01/09/2026
Chapter 7 — Day One: And We're Off... Eventually
After months of planning, training, disappearing companions, a closed mountain, a faulty plane, an unexpected fuel stop, questionable accommodation and a morning spent replacing forgotten equipment...
We finally made it.
The **Bibbulmun Track**.
A thousand kilometres ahead.
The pack was on.
The boots were tied.
The Gremlin was ready.
And we were late.
Very late.
Still, we were finally walking.
There is something special about taking those first steps after months of preparation.
The excitement.
The anticipation.
The confidence that all the problems are finally behind you.
And then I found myself walking down a creek bed.
I kept going.
Downhill.
Following the creek.
For some time I wondered why anyone would design a walking track that ran along the bottom of a creek.
It seemed a little unusual.
But this was Western Australia.
Maybe that's just how they do things over here.
So I continued.
Eventually, the penny dropped.
**The Bibbulmun Track wasn't following the creek.**
I was.
The Gremlin had no comment.
Which was probably wise.
So, already running late, I now had the pleasure of retracing my steps **uphill** to find the track I'd managed to lose almost immediately after starting it.
Not long after getting back on course, I fell into step for a while with an older retired chap who regularly ran the local hills for fitness.
Naturally, I shared the story of my recent exploration of Western Australia's creek system.
A little further on, he pointed out a **right-hand turn that apparently a lot of walkers miss**.
I looked at it.
He looked at me.
Given my navigational performance so far, there was absolutely no doubt what would have happened had he not been there.
I'd have missed it.
Almost certainly.
Possibly while wondering why the Bibbulmun Track had suddenly become something else entirely.
We eventually parted ways, and I continued on — grateful that Western Australia had apparently provided me with a temporary navigation supervisor.
Right.
**Now** the problems were behind us.
Then we reached a road closure.
There was an event underway and the route we needed wasn't accessible — and it wasn't a closure we'd known about when planning the walk.
Fortunately, some wonderful people involved with the event took pity on a bloke carrying a backpack and travelling with a Gremlin and helped us get through.
We were back in business.
Except now we were even further behind schedule.
So Day One became a game of catch-up.
Walk.
Check the time.
Walk faster.
Check the distance.
Walk faster again.
The Gremlin, who wasn't carrying the pack, remained extremely positive about our progress.
Eventually we made camp.
Somehow, despite the late start, getting lost, walking back uphill and the unexpected road closure...
we'd covered **about 40 kilometres**.
On Day One.
The Gremlin seemed impressed.
My legs were less enthusiastic.
At last, I could relax.
Set up camp.
Get the gas oven going.
Cook dinner.
What could possibly go wrong now?
**The gas hose caught fire.**
Not the dinner.
Not the oven.
**The hose carrying the gas.**
This wasn't one of those moments where you stand back, admire the situation and consider your options.
Quick action was required.
Very quick action.
Fortunately, the problem was dealt with before our first night on the Bibbulmun became considerably more memorable than intended.
Eventually I sat down and contemplated Day One.
Started late.
Got lost.
Walked down a creek while wondering why the track had become a creek.
Walked back uphill.
Had a retired local runner save me from almost certainly getting lost **again**.
Hit an unexpected road closure.
Relied on the kindness of strangers to get through.
Walked about **40 kilometres** trying to recover the schedule.
And then discovered that even cooking dinner apparently required emergency procedures.
There was just one thing left to do before bed.
Ring home.
I called the business phone to say goodnight to my wife.
She answered.
And something in her voice caught me.
She sounded sad.
After everything that had happened that day, that was the thing I found myself thinking about as I settled down for the night.
I'd spent months worrying about kilometres, equipment, food, water and how much weight I could carry.
Nobody had mentioned that sometimes a backpack gets heavier without putting anything else in it.
The Gremlin was unusually quiet.
Tomorrow was Day Two.
There were still hundreds and hundreds of kilometres ahead.
And for the first time, perhaps the biggest challenge wasn't looking quite so much like the track.
Next month:
👉 **Day Two — the kilometres continue, the pack gets heavier... and not everything weighing on you is in the backpack.**
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**To be continued... because turning back was never really an option.**
