Finding comfort in the uncomfortable.
Tent in a field below Seamans Hut, Mt Kosciuszko.
In May we spent 2 weeks exploring the Kosciuszko National Park in New South Wales, a stunning part of Australia we had never been to. Both of our years had kicked off to a pretty hectic start and we were craving some slowness, so we began planning an escape. We bought some maps and did a little bit of research (if you call watching YouTube videos and scrolling through instagram research) but we had a rough idea of what the trip would look like; a mixture of camping, hiking and a sneaky air bnb stay somewhere around Jindabyne.
We knew traveling in May meant it would be cooler at night but the forecast looked good and we’d hoped it would mean places were less busy, which turned out to be true. We were lucky enough to have most campsites to ourselves and even enjoyed a coffee by ourselves on Australia’s highest peak, Mt Kosciuszko. Camping and road trips are our main form of holidays but I hadn’t done an overnight hike since I was about 15 on a school camp and although the Main Range track is by no means a hard walk, I had also done no real training in the lead up or even tested out my pack so to say I was feeling a little unprepared is an understatement.
We spent the first night at a beautiful spot in Geehi, camped by the river with the incredible mountain range we would conquer the next day hanging above us. In the morning we packed up and drove the road to Thredbo, winding our way through ghostly forests of burnt out trees from recent bushfires. It was eerie and a little overwhelming to see the power of mother nature and how destructive she can be. I’d say it was about this point that I felt an uneasiness take over me.
Once we got to Thredbo we bought our lift pass, filled out our intention form at the info center and parked in the overnight car park. We then spilled out the contents of all our belongings and got to packing our bags with everything we needed for the next 2 nights. There really is something rewarding about carrying everything you need to survive on your back, I also enjoy the tetris that is packing. Although we had very good Sea to Summit sleeping bags, I was nervous about how cold we’d be so I snuck one of my woolen blankets into my pack. It took up way too much space but we were very glad I brought it in the end as the nights were extremely cold. With bags packed, we walked to the chairlift that would take us up to the start of the track. This did feel like cheating a little but the longer the lift went on the more grateful I was that we didn’t have to walk up this section. It felt strange being on a chairlift with no snow but it was beautiful. We passed over a never ending sea of snow gums but then before we knew it, it was time to (not so gracefully) get off the chair lift with our packs in hand and head off on our adventure.
The first part of the track is the main walk people take to do the Mt Kosciuszko summit, which meant we were only seeing people with small day packs or no bags at all. We obviously stood out like a sore thumb as everyone we passed said something along the lines of “are you staying up here?” with an expression on their face that was as equally surprising as their tone. With each exchange I could feel more fear growing and found myself starting to panic that maybe this isn’t something people do, or shouldn’t do unless they were very prepared - which I certainly wasn’t.
But we continued walking, following the metal path that snaked its way over the vast fields until we reached the base of the Kosciuszko summit, Rawson Pass at about 4:30pm. With not much daylight left we decided to not do the summit but instead continue the short walk to Seamans Hut and set up camp for the night. As we walked around the corner we were greeted with the most charming stone hut, almost camouflaged in amongst a sea of boulders. We headed inside the hut and instantly felt sheltered from the harsh environment outside. We dropped our bags and spent a little while taking in the history of the hut. There was a cupboard filled with supplies, firewood stacked by the door and a touching plaque in memory of 4 snowboarders who sadly lost their lives up there. Another reminder of how harsh this landscape could be.
We headed back outside and while Andy tried to find somewhere flat to pitch our tent, I was in my element photographing the hut and the incredible views that surrounded us. Golden hour hit differently up there, I’m not sure if it was because we were the only people around but it felt like we were witnessing a private show just for us. The colours and textures were out of this world, if the sun hadn’t disappeared I think I would’ve filled my entire memory card on my camera. Once the sunset show was over and our tent was set up (thanks to Andy), we headed back up to the hut to have our dinner, a delicious dehydrated Spaghetti bog and Cottage Pie! I’m not sure what it was but once the sun had gone down and the darkness set in so did my anxiety. The cute hut was no longer charming but eerie and the fact we had the whole mountain top to ourselves no longer felt cool but isolating.
I remember sitting there in the dark, waiting for our dehydrated meals to cook, breathing slowly trying to calm my racing mind. The reality of where we were, all by ourselves had hit and it hit me hard. We ate our dinner which was warm and comforting, made a cup of tea and headed back to our tent to settle in for the night. I always find it funny how comforting a tent can be, even though it’s a thin piece of fabric, once you enter it you just feel safe from the outside world. We got settled into our sleeping bags and listened to some walking podcasts about the area, which certainly helped keep my anxious thoughts to a minimum.
I think the part I found most eerie up there was the silence, there were no animals and hardly a breath of wind, we were completely alone. Although I was tired from the walk, neither of us slept a wink that night. I don’t think I’ve ever been so cold in my life, every time you moved cold air would quickly seep in. I remember just laying there willing the sun to come up but also arguing with myself trying to work out what it was I was afraid of. We were completely safe, with a hut nearby if the weather turned, we had a satellite phone for emergencies but to be honest we both had 1 bar of 5G up there anyway. So what was it that made me feel so uncomfortable? The only answer I could think of was the unknown.
Like anything you do for the first time, it felt weird and awkward. It took us a while to figure out the best way to set up the tent, how to configure our packs, even cooking the dehydrated meals was something new to us. As people who go camping a lot, it felt embarrassing to struggle with the simplest of things. But I think that’s the point, as we become adults we don’t like to feel those feelings so we avoid situations that put us outside of our comfort zones. And as cliche as the saying goes, that really is where the magic happens. There’s nothing like hours of walking (and also hours of not sleeping) to really get deep into your head and work through your emotions. When the sun finally did rise it was such a relief, I’m not a morning person by any means but I’ve never been quicker to get up and grab my camera so I could capture the beautiful sunrise. What I didn’t expect though was the overwhelming feeling of confidence I had after making it through that night. Heading into the next day of hiking, the landscape no longer felt scary but like a friend.
The rest of the hike was incredible. Open valleys filled with rivers of boulders and surrounded by never ending mountain ranges, it felt as though we’d stepped into a scene out of a Lord of the rings or Game of Thrones. We also saw more hikers and realized how close the village of Charlotte’s Pass was, so all of a sudden we didn’t feel so remote. The second night we slept much better, probably because we’d walked 23km that day but also because we had learnt some lessons from the mistakes of our first night. We woke the next morning and made our way to the top of Australia, enjoying the 360 views all to ourselves and face timing my grandad to show him the view. It was a really special morning, one I won’t forget.
When we came home and shared the stories of our adventures to family and friends we heard a resounding chorus of “that doesn’t sound like a holiday”, which made me stop and question our choices. Yes we could’ve easily gone on a lovely holiday somewhere warm or relaxing but where’s the fun in that? Don’t get me wrong I love sitting on a beach reading a book as much as the next person but sometimes I feel the need for more. Trips like this challenge you, they wake you up and make you see not only the world but yourself differently. It’s not until you put yourself in a situation that is uncomfortable that you really realize how much you are capable of.
I always find it funny that during the trip I’m filled with so many emotions; fear, exhaustion, and a few “why am I even doing this” moments, but they are also mixed with feelings of awe, joy and a level of superiority as not everyone is going to get to see these same places. It’s generally not until after that we’re back at the car, warm and fed that the “shit that was cool” sinks in. Maybe it's your mind's way of keeping you on edge in the moment to ensure you get back to safety and then once you are safe you’re allowed to enjoy and bask in the epicness of what you just did. I know walking up a mountain with a heavy pack and sleeping in -3 degrees isn’t for everyone but there is something special about testing your limits - physically and mentally and being able to find some comfort in the uncomfortable.
