The beginning...

Just the very name "Butter Factory" sounds like a calorifically delicious place to begin.  I'm sure there's an app to work out how many kilojoules you burn over 60kms in 3 days, but who cares about that?  Certainly not the smiling faces of the red kerchiefed volunteers and Shaun who signed me in, handed over my name badge and a yellow bandana, which meant I belonged.  

Intrepidly climbing aboard the shuttle bus to the Botanic Gardens, I bumped into the tag team duo of Di and Gail.  Professionally suited and booted, they confided to me their impressive weekly training routine.  I suddenly wondered if I was really up to this, my backpack was already hurting me and I hadn't even gone anywhere yet.

Shaun's real mission is to raise awareness of the Hinterland trails. I'd say he's doing pretty well already considering it was only 7:30am and he'd already got a bus full of hopefuls peering at the map.  Normally, I like the reassurance of a map, but I felt a little daunted at the distances it proclaimed I would be walking. So I folded it up, put it away and resolved to follow the crowd and the well placed markers.  The only problem was that I was first off the bus and with only a couple of ladies ahead of me, I was almost the leader of the pack.  

Just as I was beginning to enjoy my own company and the warm sunshine, a vicious blue heeler hurtled from a driveway snarling ferociously. Feigning dominance over him with a trembly shout of "Go Home!", I upped the pace to nowhere fast.

The wind cooled my brow and the vast blue skies were filled with bird song and the gentle rustle of eucalyptus.  I let out a contented sigh to mark the magical moment and had a little chuckle over whether I should take the road less traveled.

With the reassuring murmur of walkers behind me and the freedom of the hinterland ahead of me, my mind began to question the real reason for this pilgrimage.  Perhaps it was to find my way? Although, with the early morning coffee and the scary dog encounter, the only thing I was hoping to find was a toilet.

Somewhere between nowhere and elsewhere, just as I was pondering the dilemma of cripping a crapple in the bush, I was joined by my first friend of the road, Annie.  We fell into companionable conversation and so I decided to follow the African proverb that says, "If you want to go far go together."  However, she was setting such a blistering pace I wasn't sure if I would  live to regret it.

The Gods were smiling upon me when we disturbed a python who was basking on the track. Annie was an official snake relocater, "But only in Western Australia," she informed me. What did I care? She shifted it with her walking stick and casually continued on. Annie had also trained as a paramedic which was another good reason to kick up my aching heels and keep up with my new best friend.

Guided into to the pop up tea tent by Wendy's wheels, the walking was more than half done.

With the restorative power of carrot cake and tea under my belt, the last few kilometers were a breeze.

Perhaps I should have taken better heed of the instructions on the last sign of the day?

 

Instead of waiting for the bus, I decided to follow the man in the felt hat who I imagined was Peter the goat herder all grown up. Or maybe the haunting melodies of Edelweiss lured me to join the Von Trapp family and escape to Kin Kin on foot over the mountain.

What's a couple of extra kms between mountain mates? Finally, I made it into Nirvana .... the Kin Kin pop up foot massage.

The last rays of sun were falling on my fellow nomads, when I made my way from tent city towards the bright lights of the art gallery.  

I had been promised of a glass of champagne. 

Making sure Shaun had at least one champers in hand, I noted a curious door at the back of the hall and wondered if this was my last chance to "exit stage left"? 

The warm buzz of alcohol in my veins persuaded me that my pilgrimage must continue until at least after dinner.  Mouthwatering food by The Black Ant Catering Company and a glass of red wine with my friends from the road convinced me that trail walking was indeed a most excellent idea.  I gaily toasted to the 22kms to come tomorrow.

Zipping into my tent, I drifted asleep to the sounds of the bug zapper on the house next door, the snoring camper in the adjacent tent, the cranking tunes of the local pub band and the occasional police siren pulling over suspicious drivers. These Kin Kin folk sure know how to put the life into the Country Life.

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