The CrossingDown The Hume
Wrong Way, Go Back
I left Holbrook before sunrise, ignored a very clear road sign, put out a call for Sydney and Brisbane coordinators, met four brothers-in-hi-vis, and got another sign that the Canberra decision I was leaning towards was the right one.
The day started in Holbrook before sunrise with a very clear instruction.
WRONG WAY. GO BACK.
I posted the photo with the only caption it needed: “oh no!”
Useful advice, probably.
Entirely useless to me.
Holbrook disappeared behind me in the dark. HMAS Otway was still sitting there in the pre-dawn light, a long way from the sea but not completely random: Holbrook had been renamed during the First World War in honour of Royal Navy submariner Norman Holbrook VC.
Then New South Wales slowly opened up again: low cloud, hills, paddocks, bridges, trucks, and the long stretch of Hume Highway ahead.
There was support logistics happening online as well. I put out a call for anyone interested in helping with a Sydney or Brisbane coordinator role. As we had gone along, willing volunteers had stepped up in different places and become a sort of link between us, local Heart Foundation people and local parkrun teams.
Kalgoorlie and Canberra, in particular, had local parkrun teams who had effectively taken that on. Sydney and Brisbane were still ahead, and HAA worked best when people on the ground could help turn the big idea into something practical.
Brisbane would be interesting, I was sure. Lol.
Around the middle of the day, a Hume Highway sign gave me the next places to think about: Tarcutta 43, Gundagai 88, Sydney 468.
I was curious why Canberra was not shown on the sign.
Canberra was the awkward bit. It had been added to the original route on the basis that if I was going to do something as ridiculous as cross the country on foot, I may as well include the capital of the country.
Now we were close enough to deal with the reality. We were in danger of slipping behind schedule, and people were making plans around where we expected to be. Canberra already had Gungahlin parkrun, rest and support lined up. Sydney and Brisbane were still ahead.
Walking in and out of Canberra from the Hume was effectively a one-day diversion. Getting that day back was obviously a good thing, but I was still grappling with the decision. Canberra had been in the route for a reason, and the idea of removing it from the part I would cover on foot was tough to come to terms with.
If there was a way to get that day back without leaving a gap in the Perth-to-Brisbane route, I had to take it. The plan was to finish somewhere short of Tarcutta, do something similar short of Gundagai the next day, then drive to Canberra.
Monday morning, we would start again and head for Sydney.
Classic project management, really: reduce the scope to stay on schedule.
The best roadside meeting of the day came from four equally fashion-conscious blokes in hi-vis.
Mark, Jamie, Tom and Andrew had seen me a few times, stopped for a chat, and ran through some of the questions I was hearing a lot: “you’ve done some ks today”, “where you going?”, and “you’re kidding, right?”
They were really nice to talk to, and one thing from that chat stayed with me. They described the road into Canberra as “an angry road”.
The “angry road” comment did not make the decision for me, but it was a sign that the decision I was already leaning heavily towards was the right one. We could drive forward for the weekend, do parkrun, rest properly, enjoy the support that was waiting there, then get back to the Hume and keep moving toward Sydney.
So the Canberra weekend became a drive-forward, parkrun and rest weekend, with the walking route staying on the Hume.
Near the start of my final 6 km, another person stopped. Andy, or Andreas, offered me a lift. When I explained what I was doing, he made a donation and told me he had needed two stents even though people had been surprised because he was healthy, not obese, and did not seem like an obvious heart-disease case.
He was extremely grateful for the research and technology that had made his surgery possible.
There was no selfie. It was a busy highway, with a narrow hard shoulder, and it was cold. That was a very reasonable no-selfie situation.
The final sign photo told the honest number: Tarcutta was still 25 km away. The midday idea of finishing about 12 km short had not quite happened. Instead, we stopped at a rest area about 25 km short of Tarcutta after 54 km, and that was enough.
Images From The Day
