Solo Strolls

With another set of exams behind me, I was now looking at a nine-day break before the beginning of the next rotation. What could I do with myself for all that time? After the last trip to Fraser Island in May, I was keen to make a return trip. All my friends were either busy or injured or otherwise unwilling to camp in the "winter cold," so this was going to be a solo trip.

The plan: the northern portion of the Fraser Island Great Walk, taking in lakes, forests, and a long walk down the beach.

Total distance covered: 105 km.

Time: seven days.


Day 1: Wanggoolba Creek to Lake McKenzie, 10.8 km

The barge took half an hour to cross the placid strait from River Heads to Wanggoolba Creek on Fraser Island. The sun was just warm enough to cancel out the cool breeze coming from the sea. As soon as the last car drove off the barge, I stepped off the ramp and, with my backpack fully loaded with all my gear and supplies for the next seven days, started the walk.

The first three kilometers were on the sandy four-wheel-drive track. With its loose sand, the road didn't give the walk an easy start. Rounding a bend, I encountered the first animal on the island - a snake. It was just lazily sunning itself on the sandy road warmed by sunlight filtered through the trees, its presence betrayed by its menacing green-and-brown pattern that would have otherwise given it perfect camouflage in the woods. Giving it a wide berth, I gingerly walked past it on the other side of the road, knowing that it was probably poisonous.

Passing a huge sign welcoming visitors to Fraser Island, I followed a sign to the walking trail formed by the fire control line. Leaving the dusty four-wheel-drive road behind, I now entered the forested area of the island. Not a soul was in front or behind me. The only sounds were the trees rustling, birds chirping, and the rhythmic crunch of my boots stepping on dry leaves and branches.

A leisurely two-and-half hours later, I arrived at the familiar fenced Lake McKenzie hikers' camp. After the routine of setting up camp, the rest of the afternoon was devoted to sitting on the white beach of Lake McKenzie, running into the cold water for a quick swim, reading, and watching the advancing shadow cast by the trees as the sun slowly sank in the west.

Night came quickly. After a dinner of cous cous with tuna and peas, tea with dried apricot and figs, I started to do some reading when the sky opened up and a shower swept through the campground. Five minutes later, the rain passed and the half moon was again faintly illuminating the landscape.

I went to the edge of the lake and tried to photograph the lake under the moon. Then I realized what I was trying to do was beyond the technical capability of my camera. I ended up waving my flashlight at the camera with a long exposure; this is the result:

Day 2: Lake McKenzie to Lake Wabby, 11.9 km

I woke up as the sky was brightening up and birds started chirping. Talking to a few other people in the campground, I found out that there were actually three other groups of hikers heading in the same direction. For the next three nights, we would share the same campgrounds.

After breakfast, I wandered around the empty beach of Lake McKenzie. Devoid of the daytrippers that would arrive later on 4WDs and buses, the lake was a serene place. After lingering for an hour, I reluctantly packed up and headed to the trail as the first carload of people arrived.
The trail again weaved through forests of paperbarks and dense undergrowth, the air changed from damp and cool in places with tall trees to dry and warm where sunlight was able to penetrate the thin canopy.
Arriving at the Lake Wabby campground in the early afternoon, I set up my tent and had a quick lunch. Actually, lunch wasn't a meal per se, but a series of snacks as I hiked and rested.
The campground was not next to Lake Wabby, but actually over a kilometer away. I walked down a series of switchbacks to the bottom of the hill then up the Hammerstone sandblow to arrive at Lake Wabby - a small but deep lake being slowly swallowed up by the giant dunes that had created it in the first place. Another quick dip in the chilly water, another lazy afternoon lounging on the slopes of the sand dunes, plus a little bit of reading - I was happy as a clam.
In the middle of the night, I woke to the sound of rain hitting the tent. Reassured that I was dry and warm, I went back to sleep to the soothing white noise that surrounded me.


Day 3: Lake Wabby to Valley of the Giants, 16.1 km

I woke to another bright morning with blue skies and singing birds and had another leisurely morning with breakfast of warm muesli and tea. Then I headed north towards Valley of the Giants.
The trail north of Lake Wabby was supposedly "remote," according to warnings on the map. However, I found that it wasn't anymore so than the previous sections. Perhaps by "remote," they meant that that section of the trail was not as easily accessible by vehicles as were the earlier sections. I kept to my easy pace of covering about four kilometers in an hour. The trees around me started to become taller and taller as I entered the original old-growth forest. The well-marked trail never failed to keep me on course. As I ascended a steep hill via switchbacks, I came upon a sign pointing to Badjala Sandblow six hundred meters down a side trail. Leaning my pack to a tree, I wandered off and climbed up the steep dune to get to the sandblow.
As soon as I summitted the dune, I was hit by the stiff wind from the Pacific Ocean just a few kilometers away to the east. The wind whipped up the sand ever so slightly, carving small ridges on the faces of the dunes and depositing the find grains to the leeward side and, in the process, slowly advancing the dunes to swallow up the vegetation that stood in their way. A few shrubs and grass managed to grow on the dunes and clung on to life defiantly, as if engaging in a constant struggle against the combined forces of the Pacific winds and the mighty sand dunes and attempting to help their brethrens down the slopes.

An hour passed before I was back on the trail to the campground. Arriving at the Valley of the Giants campground almost 5 1/2 hours after setting off from Lake Wabby, I attended to the chores of setting up camp. A 4WD pulled up and down came nine sleeping bags and tents. Someone got out and proceeded to set up tents in four of the seven campsites. As a result, the campground became overbooked and the four groups of us had to share three campsites. I later found out that they were a group of hikers on a walking tour with full car support. The campground was supposed to be reserved for hikers only. Yes, they were a party of hikers, but with car support, is that cheating?

Day 4: Valley of the Giants to Lake Garawongera, 13.4 km

A couple of kilometers from Valley of the Giants, the trail emerged from the forest and led into a much drier landscape of short ferns and palms. Continuing on, the trees became taller again and soon the trail was again flanked and shaded by dense vegetation.

Without a lake to take a dip in the day before, I was starting to get sticky and odorous. Arriving at Lake Garawongera only four hours later, I quickly set up camp, ate another snack, then headed to the lake with my book.
Lake Garawongera, while not as "clean" as Lake McKenzie, look mighty inviting. I jumped into the water for a quick swim. Because of the shallow depth and the sun, the water was very pleasant. I swam around the reeds not far from shore and felt the two days' worth of grime coming off my body.

I sat on the beach, reading and relishing the feeling of being miles away from "civilization," until the sun dipped behind the trees to the west and the nighttime chill set in.

bright red plant that grows on the lake beaches, each no more than an inch in diameter

Day 5: Lake Garawongera to One Tree Rocks Camping Zone, 23.1 km

Today was going to be a long day, with over twenty kilometers on the agenda. I packed, said goodbye to the other hiking parties, who were either staying an extra day at Lake Garawongera or heading off to other places, and got on the trail.

It was an easy one-and-half-hour walk to the resort village of Happy Valley on the eastern shore of the island. Hearing the sounds of the rolling waves, my steps quickened. My plan was to camp at one of the camping zones along the ocean beach tonight where, unlike all the previous campgrounds, water was not available. I filled up both my water bottled and the hydration bladder - adding four-and-half kilos to my pack.

With just another short walk, I came upon the beach stretching to my left and right for as far as the eye could see. Seventy-Five-Mile Beach, which is in fact only fifty-eight miles long but who am I to argue about the name, is a wide stretch of sand covering most of the eastern shore of the island. I turned right and started walking south. Destination: seventeen kilometers down to One Tree Rocks Camping Zone along the beach.

After a kilometer or so, I took off my hiking boots and started to walk barefoot along the water's edge. The compacted sand gave slightly as I walked and the waves lapped at my feet as they lost their energy and rolled back to sea. Tour buses, 4WDs, and trucks zoomed past me as they raced down the beach to their next destination, some peole waved as they passed. One 4WD full of backpackers passed me, stopped, hooked a U turn and drove back towards me. "Wanna jump in?" the girl in the passenger seat yelled out to me. "No thanks, I'm just walking." I said with a smile. She gave me a thumbs up and drove off.

Yidney Rocks just south of Happy Valley

After a stop at Rainbow Gorge to check out the Kirrar Sandblow, I got back on the beach and inched along the line between rolling waves and golden sand. The immensity of the landscape made one lose the sense of scale. What looked like a rock "just over there" actually took over an hour to reach. As the hours wore on, the four-and-half liters of water in my backpack grew heavier and heavier. The beach and low dunes to my right, the ocean to my left, and the coastline in front and behind me looked just the same as when I'd first started at Happy Valley. As the sun started to dip behind the trees and my back and shoulders begged for relieve, my eyes searched the low dunes for the green signs demarcating the next camping zone.

Kirrar Sandblow

I crossed the beach toward a low dune to take a break. Then I heard the rumbling of what sounded like plane engines. Turning around, I saw a small prop-engined plane flying low and directly over me. I was near the stretch of beach that doubled as a landing strip for the next beach resort Eurong. I must be near One Tree Rocks Camping Zone! Sure enough, five minutes down the beach, a sign noted "No camping next 2.6 km," which meant the camping zone was only 2.6 kilometers away. I pressed on and within half an hour came to the sign "One Tree Rocks Camping Zone, next 2.3 km." I dragged myself to the first clearing behind the set of low dunes that served as a buffer to protect campers from direct ocean winds. Seventeen kilometers - how's that for long walks on the beach?


As tired as I was, I had to use the remaining half hour of daylight to set up camp. After dinner, I sat in the open tent to do some reading. With my head down, I heard some rustling sound approaching the tent. Looking up, I saw a small dingo sniffing around - it must have smelled the pouch of tuna I'd opened. I shined my flashlight into its eyes and banged my spoon on the empty mug. It scrambled off. Making sure I had everything inside the tent, I turned in for the night, hoping the dingo was too young to be aggressive.


Throughout the night, I heard footsteps outside the tent.


Day 6: One Tree Rocks Camping Zone to Central Station, 14.6 km

Six o'clock, I woke up, unzipped the tent flap, and saw the rouged sky beyond the beach. Feeling rested and happy that the dingo hadn't chew its way into the tent, I walked out to the beach to watch the sunrise.

Early morning convoy of 4WDs driving down the beach

Early morning rays hitting the ridge of low dunes just this side of the beach

With only half a liter of water in my backpack, I set off down the beach - drinking water taps were just three kilometers away in the beach resort Eurong. At Eurong, I turned west away from the beach, put my boots back on, and got on the trail towards today's destination of Central Station.

Dingo tracks on the beach not far from where I camped

Landing strip

The ubiquitous eucalyptus trees

Central Station is a major stop for people touring Fraser Island. Walking to the campground, I passed groups of tourists coming the other way. A couple of them wrinkled their noses as I brushed past. I must have smelled pretty ripe! Arriving at the campground, I had a good lunch and enjoyed the luxuries on offer such as running water and a hot shower.

I whiled away the rest of the afternoon by sitting among the giant pine trees with my book.


Day 7: Central Station to Wanggoolba Creek, 14.6 km

The last six days had gone by so fast, I felt like I'd just started the walk. Alas, it was time to return to civilization; plus, I was running out of food.

Wanggoolba Creek at its headwaters near Central Station

A grove of paperbark

With only the safety ration in my pack and enough water for the walk, I breezed down the trail. Just three kilometers out of Central Station, I stopped by Basin Lake - the almost circular jewel of a lake - for a break. Then retracing my steps seven days ago, I returned to the mouth of Wanggoolba Creek where the barge sat, waiting for the next trip across the narrow strait.

Basin Lake