The Crossing Rest, repairs, massage, and the next phase
One More Night In Kalgoorlie
Day 16 was the last Kalgoorlie rest day: a proper slow Sunday at Rydges, a sports massage, the RFDS visit for Ben and Ols, vehicle problem-solving, sponsor gratitude, and the shift toward Kambalda, Norseman, and the Eyre Highway.
The second day in Kalgoorlie actually felt like rest and recovery.
There was always some kind of planning and admin happening, even on rest days, but this one had the shape of a proper slow Sunday. There was no 50-kilometre walk, which helped. There was still a campervan to worry about, gear to sort, a body to patch, people to thank, food to organise, posts to write, and the small matter of the Nullarbor beginning to loom over everything.
The campervan update was very Ben: good news and bad news. Vehicle number two was drivable, but the leak needed watching and the oil would need topping up. Vehicle number three was due to meet us at Norseman on Thursday. The plan was to leave Kalgoorlie in the current van, get through Kambalda to Norseman, transfer everything again, and then point ourselves at the Eyre Highway.
That counted as a solution. We faced what was in front of us, made the decision that kept us moving forward, and trusted that the next answer would appear when we needed it.
Rydges kept looking after us. The heart display had pride of place in reception when it was not outside or in the bar with the footy club. Jemma from the day spa gave me an hour of sports massage and chat. She was a runner too, so naturally I was already trying to recruit her to Kalgoorlie-Boulder parkrun.
While I was resting and getting patched up, Ben and Ols were getting their own Kalgoorlie bonus: Shane Miller, Louise’s husband, showed them around the Royal Flying Doctor Service facility. Even on a rest day, the support kept arriving from different directions.
My body was holding together better than I probably had any right to expect. We had covered 600 kilometres in two weeks, bang on schedule, and I was not falling apart.
That did not mean the days were easy. Earlier in the crossing, I had been trying to think in neat 15-kilometre blocks: 15, 15, 15, 15. Ben noticed that was not working. The effort was too blunt, the impact was too heavy, and it was affecting how I got through the day. He suggested a more tapered pattern, and by this point the rhythm had become 15 km, 10 km, 5 km, lunch, 12 km, 8 km, maybe another 5 km, dinner, then collapse with painful feet and communicate in small grunts and moans.
The breaks changed depending on how each session had gone, and some days stretched out to 14 hours for all of us. But the shape mattered. The day was no longer just a pile of kilometres. It had sections, recoveries, resets, and a way of getting me to the end without breaking me too early.
The main problems were sore feet, a little chafing, and extra tiredness. That was it. No disaster. No major injury. I put a lot of that down to shoes, socks, Tailwind, food, hydration, recovery, the reduced impact of walking, Ben spotting what needed changing, and Ben and Ols doing the endless support jobs. Runwest, Hoka, Tailwind, Lightfeet, USANA, and the crew were not just sponsor names on a list. They were part of why the first 600 kilometres had been possible.
I was also still trying to do the public-facing part of HAA. That night I posted about the reason behind it all: active lifestyle, lifestyle change, heart health, and raising money for the Heart Foundation. I asked people to invite friends to the page, not just share it, because in my head the maths of social media made the big target feel reachable if enough people helped spread the message.
Looking back, it was a lot to be carrying on a rest day. Body check. Vehicle check. Fundraising. Sponsors. Supporters. The next route. The next town. The next enormous unknown.
There was another lovely bit of help tucked inside the Kalgoorlie weekend too. Steve from Poppet’s Pantry had already donated food before we left Perth, and then offered another batch. My friend Melinda happened to be in Kalgoorlie for a public speaking event, so she picked the meals up and brought them with her. HAA kept being built out of those moments: a useful coincidence, then a person choosing to help.
That night we took one more chance to eat properly at the hotel. Lamb shank in pastry and chocolate, beetroot and chilli cake for me. Wagyu burgers and Super Pit chocolate mousse for the lads. One of my basic rules had become: because most of the food was practical and functional in nature, whenever an opportunity to eat well appears, take it with both hands.
Kalgoorlie had been a celebration, but it was also the last planned pause before the walking changed scale. At 7 am the next morning we were meant to head for Kambalda, probably arriving sometime around 8:30 or 9 at night.
After that: Norseman, a half-day to restock and swap vehicles, and the first steps onto the Eyre Highway.
Images From The Day
