Ballarat to Bendigo.....on foot.

The ocean didn’t look very wild from the shore. The waves rolled in gently, lulling me into a false sense of security. As soon as I stepped in however I felt the strong undercurrent tugging at my ankles, the reminder of the power of Mother Nature and the danger of the ocean. I cautiously made my way deeper, unlike Hubby who threw himself into the waves like a dolphin released from captivity. He urged me out deeper, assuring me it was safe, despite my fear of rip tides. I followed willingly, diving into the cold water and coming up, swinging my hair like a mermaid, relishing the cold salty water on my still aching body. Hubby turned around to body surf the next wave and I prepared to duck under it, realising at the last moment that it was going to break too early. “This might throw me around a bit” was my last thought as I tried to dive deep under it, remembering Dads advice all those years ago.

Unfortunately the shallow sand bar stopped that thought and before I knew it the wave had picked my feet up from the sand, tumbling my body around like I was in a washing machine. “Never panic” I heard Dad telling me as I didn’t know which direction was up or down. Water flowed into my nose, my ears, and came out my mouth as my bathers dropped down, exposing far too much to the fish. Eventually I found the surface, coughing and spluttering, putting body parts back into my costume and also laughing. This was ‘recovery’ from another big adventure. The first thing I noticed was my headache had gone, the second was my body felt like it was laughing with the joy at being thrown around in the ocean, not pounding the trails like it had the week prior. Hubby laughed at me as I cried out, “I got dumped” and laughed at myself. It had been a while since the ocean reminded me who was boss.

It was less than a week since I had finished my latest adventure. A day after coming home I had jumped on a plane to the Gold Coast for work and after 4 days of work Hubby had joined me for a long weekend of sunshine. Sometimes an adventure can give you so much more than you expect, teach you so much more than you ever thought and take you so deep within yourself that you come out a completely changed person. I was seeking a long weekend away from the noise of the world. I wanted to challenge my body and I wanted to quieten my mind. I decided to tackle the Goldfields Trail; running from Ballarat to Bendigo in three days, 180km in total. I couldn’t hike that fast with a heavy pack so I took a much lighter, smaller pack and booked some local motels along the route. I kept the adventure relatively quiet with only my running coach and Hubby knowing my plans. This was to protect my friends from worrying about me, but also to ensure that I was completely solo - with no offers of help to distract me from the solo adventure I sought.

I finished up work on Thursday afternoon, grabbed my little running pack, that at its heaviest would be about 7kgs, and caught the train to Ballarat. There was a big hug with Hubby and the fur baby as I left. I love the goodbye hugs when I head on one of my adventures. We hold each other that little big longer - just in case. Which is silly really because shouldn’t we do that every day. I could get hit by a car or have a heart attack any day of the week. Why is it when we do something different, considered ‘risky’ that we hold each other longer?

The first challenge was the train ride, as the Vline had closures so I had to swap to a bus half way. I looked out the window at the stars as we zipped down the highway into Ballarat with my motel right across the road from the train station. Once in the room I threw everything on the bed to sort it out and re-pack it properly. I had one change of clothes for night time, including some warm clothing as well as my raincoat. Otherwise I had the same running gear for each day. The rest of my gear was basically emergency gear. I could carry up to 4L of water, I had an EPIRB (Emergency Beacon), an emergency drinking straw (this allows me to drink from puddles safely if I needed to), a first aid kit, a lighter, my bivvy bag, 2 headtorches and a power bank. I needed to know that if I got stuck and had to wait overnight in the bush for rescue, I would be ok. With a burger in my belly from the local pub and a last study of the maps I was tucked up in bed early excited about the adventure ahead!

Day one:

I was a little too excited because I was wide awake at 1:30am and couldn't wait to get going. I thought about leaving then but I didn’t want to leave too early and get into Creswick before the bakery opened as it was on my to do list to have a feed at the local bakery. I stayed in bed until 2:30am and decided it was time so I got up, made my porridge, had a coffee and got ready! I put on my pack and by 3am I was quietly heading out the door and into the streets of Ballarat. It was a smart idea to leave so early because the streets of Ballarat were absolutely ghostly so it was nice and quiet as I navigated my way out of town, finding the trail and dropping onto it. I often get asked whether I am scared of running in the dark and the truth is that sometimes it can be eerie, not scary. There’s a sense of being the only one out there. The scary part is when you hear a noise and a big kangaroo jumps in front of you or when your head torch catches the big eyes of a possum in the tree staring at you curiously. For this section however, it was incredibly eerie - particularly when I was running on the trails behind properties and came to a tunnel taking me under the Western Freeway - the tunnel looked like I was running into a time warp! I could hear my friend Holly in my head "Oh F-No" and I giggled as I ran through, cautiously poking my head out at the other end.

Eventually I left the streets of Ballarat behind and entered the Creswick Forest and the eeriness was heightened. The quiet of the bush around me, the lack of any moonlight, the white-trunked manna gum trees standing tall above me, hiding the secrets of the forest. The light of my head torched bobbed along, guiding me along single track through the forest, sometimes along a wider 4WD track. I purposely stayed on the 4WD track for one short section as I knew that the single track would take me past campsites and I didn't want to disturb anyone, as well as I didn’t want to be going past campers on my own. Safety is always on my mind when it comes to my adventures.

I knew I was coming close to Creswick when the sun started to break and I could feel the lightness of the day washing over me. The temperature seemed to drop even more as I shuffled closer to town. I had left Ballarat in tights, long sleeve shirt, fleece, beanie and gloves but now I was down to my shirt and tights only, warmed by my constant movement. I suddenly popped out of the forest onto the main bitchumen road in Creswick, still quiet before the morning rush. As I stepped out onto the shoulder of the road I was startled by movement to the side. I looked to my right and there was a large dead kangaroo that had obviously fallen victim to a vehicle, and feasting on the carcass were two large wedge tailed eagles. I scared them, they scared me. My mouth dropped in awe as they took flight, their large wing span blowing me away, their majestic nature filling me with joy. I squealed out loud at what I had just witnessed, and how incredibly close I had been to these beautiful creatures. I shot off a text message to Hubby, as my phone beeped at me that I had been moving 4 hours. The plan was to message him or send a GPS message from my SPOT device every 4 hours so he could track me for safety reasons. My next message to him was a photo of my ham and cheese croissant and coffee courtesy of the local bakery, who were surprised to see a runner in town so early, amid the high-vis shirts of the local workers seeking their morning caffeine hit.

One of the stunning eagles waiting for me to move on.

"Foraging" for food along the way.

I meandered through the town of Creswick, past the University of Melbourne Campus, until my feet felt dirt underneath me again. I had stocked up on water at the local toilet block, throwing in my sanitiser tablets to be sure I was drinking clean water. I alternated between single dirt track and 4WD track until I came out into endless farmland as far as I could see. It was a stunning site, but also rather heartbreaking at how dry everything was. It was very obvious that the farmers were in drought. The bush was dry and barren and the farms had hay over their dead grass to try and feed the livestock. Still there were signs of life, as sheep bolted from the fence to escape me shuffling past, little lambs pranced around their mumma’s and stared at me curiously. I went past the town of Dean, where the local hall was throwing their annual ‘potato festival’ that night - potato cooked every way possible. I very nearly stopped there for the night! But alas, instead I ate my cheesemite roll from my pack and kept moving, the next town I entered being Mollongghip which was basically a community hall and a sign. From here I was back in the bush and loving the scenery around me.

With only 26kms to go and 50kms under my belt I saw the perfect fallen tree for a stop and sat on the log for a break, resting my feet and having a snack. My food had been a range of bananas, cheesemite scrolls, croissants, bars and nut mix. I had enough for a few days but planned to restock in the towns at the local supermarkets along the way. I plodded along, following old tram cutways whilst also reading my screenshots of the guide book, taking me down a history lesson of old settlements and tram cuttings and waterways from when gold and survival was the only thing on anyone's mind. I got excited about the upcoming ‘Mullens Dam’, thinking it might be a water source, but also keen to see it as I had heard people swim in it. I was very disappointed when I came around the corner to a large puddle instead of a dam - another sign of the incredible drought hardship in the area.

I left the old ‘Wombat Station’ behind; where no sign of the old gold mining town still actually exists but I was soon shuffling along a trail with massive walls on either side of me, the old railway cuttings. I then passed the sign where the Goldfields Trail was launched back in 1992. A quick selfie with it and I pressed on, eager now to get to Daylesford. When I came to the turn off to Sailors Falls I knew I was close to town. Unfortunately the little out and back to the falls was closed so I continued on, keen for a hot shower and a feed. As I spotted houses and came up behind them into town I ran into the first person I had seen on the trails all day. A lady walking her golden labrador. She called back the dog as he bounded up to me, tail wagging and tongue lolling. I immediately crouched down for pats and cuddles and told her not to bother calling him off me. “I’m a dog lover” I told her laughing. We had a chat about hiking and the lack of water on the trail before we went in opposite directions and I came up the beautiful Lake Daylesford, calling Hubby as I walked the last few hundred metres to my motel. I gave him the update and picked up my key from the lovely owner of the motel. She not only walked me to my room, but offered me breakfast for the following morning. When I said I would be leaving too early she offered to put breakfast in my room that night so I could eat it early and go. Such a lovely gesture - country motels are the best!

After a quick shower it was straight down to the local pub, a mere 100m away for a big chicken parmigiana and chips, which I struggled to finish and then back to the room to snuggle in bed with the electric blanket on. I was exhausted, the feet were rather angry and swollen but I had popped into the supermarket for some tape for them, as well as some food for the next days adventures. I put the Hawks game on TV but I was asleep within the first quarter, dreaming of wedge tail eagles.

Sleep was intermittent. The body shook a lot, heaving with the exhaustion of 75kms on the feet, a long day, and my right foot in particular would give me shooting nerve pain that ran from the heel to the big toe on odd occasions. If I wasn’t sleeping, I was meditating, trying to calm the body down as much as I could.

Day two started at 4am and it was icy! The bathroom tiles froze my feet as I got ready for the day ahead, enjoying my corn flakes and a coffee. The bread that was provided for my toast was instead turned into a sandwich for later and with gratitude I said goodbye to the lovely motel and made my way through town. Parts of the trail were closed so I went through town instead up to Hepburn Springs before re-joining the trail where it re-opened. I was joined in the dark by lots of kangaroos, sitting next to letter boxes and hopping down suburban streets, escorting me out of town. I saw the sign for Jackson Lookout and almost made a right turn before laughing at myself, realising it was still pitch black and I wouldn't see anything at the lookout. I continued on through winding single trail as the sun broke over the horizon and I took off my head torch as well as my beanie and my fleece. I could hear traffic on the highway as I had an upcoming highway crossing. As the bush cleared I saw the road ahead of me, as well as a sign for the Chocolate Mill. Unfortunately I was far too early for it to be open to taste any samples so I crossed the road instead and pressed on, passing an array of letterboxes before turning down a 4WD track.

This was a long stretch of road so a good time to eat some snacks as the sun completely broke, strangely dropping the temperature to an icy chill. I was starting to regret taking off layers! I eventually left the road and dropped back into single track bush, with stunning views of rolling fields, full of sheep. At one point I stopped for a break, putting my aching feet up on a tree branch. I took a quick photo of my feet up and it hit me. This moment. The beauty of my surrounds took my breath away. Everything was so still and so beautiful. I was out here in the elements pushing my mind and body and there was no schedule to adhere to, it was all my timeline and my terms. I felt a peace that I am not sure I have ever experienced. With that sense of peace came an incredible sense of happiness. Absolute pure joy coursed through my aching body. I sat with that feeling for as long as it took for my body to start feeling the cold and I knew I had to keep moving.

I was blown away by how dry the bush was as I continued on, my feet crunching on dry leaves that were meant to be creek beds and I was grateful that I had carried so much water. I was getting low on my water as I approach the Vaughan Springs, knowing there was a picnic area which meant public toilets, which meant water!

The springs had water flowing, however levels were very low and I heard the picnic area before I saw it. Voices and laughter of people that I had not experienced all day came to my ears as I dropped down to the open space. I sat down at one of the picnic tables, took my shoes off to air out my feet, particularly my poor right foot that was sending shooting nerve pain through the sole of my foot every chance it got. I made up some lunch - tuna in soft tacos and some of the tourists checking out the springs asked me about my adventures. I would have looked, and smelt a site - I had popped out of the bush with a large pack and running poles, I was wearing yesterday's running gear and also smiling ear to ear! I took my time, enjoying some food, again on no schedule and just loving the peace. I found the toilet block and topped up my water. I had about 20kms to go but it was warm in the sun so I grabbed about 3L of water and headed off. The last 20kms was done in a mixture of agony, with my foot screaming at me, and in ecstasy at the beauty of the bush around me, and the joy of being alone out in the elements. I was torn between the pain I was putting my body through and yet the joy of the adventure of it all. I was on a 4WD track, close to Castlemaine when I started to see signs of the town - the first house I came across with a letterbox was number 53. Dad's lucky number. I knew I had him watching over me and cheering me on as I hobbled into the outskirts of town, and into my motel room.

Thankfully the key was in a lock box for me so I didn't have to talk to anyone, exposing them to the smell of my sweaty body or witness my fatigue. I opened up the door to my beautiful little room, complete with balcony and pre-prepared breakfast and I collapsed onto the bed, almost in tears with the pain in my foot. I had a VERY long hot shower, then turned on the electric blanket and jumped into bed, calling Hubby to give him an update. I was relishing the absolute luxury of a motel room, much further away from the tent and sleeping bag that I usually carry on multi-day adventures. I lay back and meditated for a few hours, recalling time and time again that moment that I had sat on a tree stump, with my feet up, watching sheep frolic in the fog. What an incredible day!

The motel had a restaurant attached and I was grateful I didn't have to go far for food. I got the last table available in the dining room and ordered slow cooked lamb on polenta. I devoured it - it was delicious! With a full belly I limped back to my room, mere metres away and collapsed into bed with a cup of tea. I was tired and exhausted but sleep would elude me all night - my poor foot was very unhappy and continued to send shooting pain from my right heel to my right big toe, at times causing me to cry out aloud. I was torn between what to do with 60kms to go the next day, and knowing I had no water sources along the course, so I would likely need to carry 6L of water, particularly if I was slower than usual. I decided I couldn’t do anything at that moment and I focused on meditating, calming the body and trying to get some sleep.

I woke at 6am, made coffee and sat looking at the ice covering the world outside my window. It was a beautiful site and I enjoyed the warmth of my electric blanket and my coffee and the peace of the morning ahead of me. I decided to pack up, run the 2km to Castlemaine and then see how the foot, and the body felt before making the decision to either catch the train to Bendigo, or continue on foot.

I loaded up the pack, put the smelly running gear back on, shoes on and headed out the door. I knew almost immediately that I would be catching the train instead. The foot screamed at me, and I knew it was far too dangerous for my foot, and also being alone on the trails to try and attempt 60kms through the dry bush to Bendigo. I took a deep breath, trying to quieten my inner ‘achiever’. I didn't come here to ‘achieve’, I had nothing to prove to anyone. I would still get to Bendigo but the adventure would look a little different than planned. Adapting is the biggest part of any adventure anyway!

I hobbled into town where a local farmers market greeted me. I donated $20 to the local SES to get entry, because that was all the cash I had - they recommended a gold coin but I figured they could use my $20. I loved wandering the stalls, buying some local fruit, being tempted by local wine and cheese but gauging the space in my bag. I fell into a local book shop, picking up a novel for the train ride to Bendigo and then headed to the train station where I drank my coffee and ate an entire punnet of giant blueberries! The ride was short, but beautiful - much shorter than a 60km run and when I arrived in Bendigo I was at a loss what to do. I couldn't get into my motel until 2pm and it was only 11am. I found my way to the town centre and as the sun was shining, I parked myself up on a bench in the local park and enjoyed the sunshine, with shoes off and read my book. I had at least changed out of my smelly running clothes so at about 12:30pm I found the local pub, and enjoyed a lamb salad and a pint of beer whilst reading my newly loved novel. It was peaceful, relaxing and a joy to just be in the moment, not worrying about kms, or timeframes, or anything but just the moment. Again the sense of peace overcame me. Despite the pain in my foot I felt incredibly happy and peaceful. I started to get the sense that this adventure was having a rather big impact on me!

I eventually checked into my motel, telling the lady my story and scoring a free upgrade to a ‘spa room’. What luxury! A massive spa sat not in the bathroom, but in the main bedroom! I could sit in the spa and watch the footy on TV. So good! I was too exhausted to head out for dinner so ordered myself Uber Eats - Laksa in bed. Another luxury. I was enjoying this far too much. I was asleep at about 7pm, with the help of some pain killers, and slept solidly for 8hours!

It was a stunning morning as I caught the V-Line home mid-morning Monday and reflected on the weekend. I was so proud of my body for its physical feat, particularly so close to a recent 100km race in the Alpine region, and I was so incredibly in awe at the whole experience. I had experienced a level of peace and a level of contentment that I had never experienced before on one my adventures and I was struggling to find the words to describe the inner quiet that my mind and body experienced on that train ride home. As I looked out the window at the passing bush, that slowly turned into buildings I knew I was coming home a different person. I was coming home quieter.