The CrossingAdelaide Hills
Adelaide Became The Start Line
Adelaide stopped being a finish line the moment I started climbing into the hills. Melbourne appeared on the signs, Somerset appeared in the landscape and 50.2 kilometres put me properly back into the daily rhythm.
After a fabulous weekend in Adelaide, it was time to move again.
Adelaide had carried a lot of weight in my head: the next capital after Perth, a rest stop, a parkrun weekend, a media moment and a place where people gathered around HAA.
Now it became the start line.
The tracker went back on in the dark, and I was heading in the general direction of Melbourne. It felt like being properly back to work: refreshed after Adelaide, stunned again by the change in scenery, and still carrying the same simple mindset. We had to keep moving forwards if we were going to reach the end goal.
At least my feet had some help.
To power the second half of the adventure, I had three new pairs of shoes thanks to Hoka OneOne Australia and Runwest: blue Stinson 3s, silver and blue Bondis, and white and yellow ATRs. The snug fit of new shoes reminded me just how comfortable the old shoes had become, but the fresh support and cushioning under my soles felt heavenly.
Watch out Victoria, here we come.
The morning very quickly became hill work.
The climb out of Adelaide and into the Adelaide Hills was a slog, but it was also breathtakingly beautiful. After so much time on huge open stretches, the landscape had changed again: green rolling hills, small towns close together, little pockets of life, and views that felt almost English in places.
I had grown up in Bridgwater, Somerset. So when I reached Bridgewater with an e, it amused me more than it probably should have. The e had been lost from my old town a long time ago, apparently only to reappear in the Adelaide Hills.
The Somerset echoes kept coming. At one point I posted a green hill and joked that not only had Bridgwater changed, but Glastonbury had too. That was how my mind worked out there. One place name, one view, one tiny connection could become enough to carry me through another section.
The signs helped with the humour as well. Melbourne appeared as 735 kilometres away, which I converted immediately into parkruns. Only 147 parkruns to Melbourne. Perfectly manageable, obviously.
There was also a very HAA miracle.
Somewhere on the Nullarbor I had lost the drinking valve from my CamelBak. I had tried to find a replacement in shops and failed. Then, while climbing through the Adelaide Hills, I somehow found one, just laying there at the side of the road. It felt like the universe providing in the most unlikely way.
Then common sense kicked in. The valve was boiled, disinfected, sterilised, boiled again and eventually used.
Spoiler alert: I didn’t die.
The later part of the day took us through a string of Adelaide Hills places that felt like they deserved more time than we could give them. Hahndorf was amazing: touristy shops, restaurants, cafes, lolly shops, curiosities, and the definite feeling that I needed to come back one day without 50 kilometres in my legs.
Then there was Nairne, which was obviously close enough to Narnia for my purposes.
By the time we finished at Dawesley, I had walked another 50.2 kilometres. We drove back to Mt Barker Caravan Park for the night, where Linda generously gave us a discount on the stay.
I only thanked her publicly a week later. The gratitude was immediate; the admin sometimes had to wait for my brain to catch up.
Adelaide was behind us. Linda’s discounted site at Mt Barker gave us somewhere to sleep.
Images From The Day
