Bloom Locksmiths

04/11/2026

Chapter 9 — Day Three: D***y Goes Missing, and the Gremlin Is the Prime Suspect 😈🥾

Day Three on the Bibbulmun Track.

I woke up to the realisation that the absolute worst had happened.

Forget the faulty plane.

Forget the diverted flight, the road closures, getting lost and the gas cooker that seemed determined to set fire to Western Australia.

I'd lost my Disney D***y hat! 😱

Now, to most people, losing a hat might not seem like the end of the world.

But this wasn't just any hat.

Years ago, we'd taken the family on a holiday to Disneyland in America.

I'd spent a small fortune thinking I was giving the kids the holiday of a lifetime.

Only to discover that Disneyland was really the ultimate dream of my generation.

The kids?

They were more interested in Xboxes.

An expensive lesson in the importance of understanding whose dreams you're actually fulfilling!

But that holiday gave me something special.

My D***y hat.

A reminder to think a little more deeply about life, assumptions and the choices we make.

And that hat had been everywhere with me.

Ten Kokoda Challenges.

The Kokoda Track in Papua New Guinea.

The eleven highest points in Australia, with Batman along for the adventure.

Through the exhaustion, the mud, the mountains and the ridiculous things I'd talked myself into doing, D***y had always come along.

Until now.

I searched.

I retraced my steps.

Nothing.

Gone.

And I knew exactly who to blame.

The Gremlin. 😈

These things never happened when Batman was travelling with me.

Batman had standards.

The Gremlin apparently had a different job description.

With D***y missing and my mood considerably darker, I turned my attention to the next problem.

The gas cooker.

Surely, after a good night's rest, I could repair it.

Another attempt.

Another adjustment.

Another spectacular burst of flame. 🔥

Apparently, its ambition was to become a bushfire rather than a cooking appliance.

While I was conducting this latest experiment in questionable engineering, an elderly gentleman wandered over from the campground.

He seemed surprised to see me.

Apparently, people don't normally arrive at these huts after dark.

We got chatting.

He was in his eighties.

He'd already completed the entire thousand-kilometre Bibbulmun Track four or five times.

And he was doing it again!

Here I was, three days into my first attempt, missing my treasured hat and trying to avoid being incinerated by my dinner.

And this bloke was setting off on another thousand kilometres.

I was impressed.

Later, the hut's residents gathered for one of those wonderful conversations that happen when strangers share a roof in the middle of nowhere.

The old fellow mentioned that his water bladder had broken.

He was heading back towards Perth to get a replacement.

I must have looked puzzled.

How exactly does one pop back to Perth from the middle of a wilderness walk?

Easy, apparently.

Arrange for a taxi to collect you at an upcoming highway crossing, head back to the outer suburbs, sort out the problem and return.

I hadn't realised the Bibbulmun came with a taxi service. 🚕

Meanwhile, one of a group of overseas walkers generously passed on a cooker they'd rejected because it leaked.

The idea was that it might get me through until I reached somewhere I could buy a new one.

Someone asked the obvious question.

"What happens if all the gas escapes before you reach town?"

"Cold food," I replied.

Problem solved.

But somewhere in all this, a thought began to form.

If the old fellow could catch a taxi back to Perth...

So could I.

At first, it was just a practical solution to the cooker problem.

Then perhaps a break.

Then perhaps...

Maybe this was one adventure I wasn't going to finish.

I'd spent months training and preparing.

I'd overcome obstacle after obstacle just to reach the starting line.

And now, three days in, I was seriously considering pulling the pin.

Was it the cooker?

The catalogue of mishaps?

The sadness I'd been hearing in Deana's voice each evening?

Or had losing D***y finally been the straw that broke the camel's back?

Perhaps it was all of them.

At the highway crossing, I rang Deana.

I told her I'd decided to come home.

Her joy was instantaneous. ❤️

No hesitation.

No carefully considered response.

Just happiness.

And suddenly the backpack that had seemed to grow heavier every evening felt a little lighter.

The taxi was arranged for the following day.

So I turned around and walked back along the track to the previous hut.

One last night in the bush.

And, as it turned out, a very special one.

Just the two of us.

An eighty-something-year-old who'd already walked the entire Bibbulmun four or five times and was back for another go.

And me.

Three days into my first attempt, missing my D***y hat and organising a taxi home.

We swapped stories.

He talked about his adventures.

I listened.

And somewhere in that conversation, I caught a glimpse of a future I'd be delighted to have.

Still walking.

Still exploring.

Still curious about what might be over the next hill.

If I'm lucky enough to reach my eighties, I hope I'm still looking for adventures rather than reasons not to have them.

As the night settled around the hut, I thought about everything that had brought me to this point.

The closed mountain.

The faulty plane.

The fuel diversion.

The questionable hotel.

The forgotten equipment.

The creek that wasn't a track.

The road closure.

The forty-kilometre first day.

The cooker that kept catching fire.

The remarkable people I'd met.

The sadness in Deana's voice.

And now, the loss of a hat that had accompanied me through so much of my life.

I'd set out to walk a thousand kilometres.

Instead, I'd found myself wondering whether finishing everything we start is always the right measure of success.

Perhaps the real challenge is knowing when to keep going and when to choose something else.

But there was still one mystery I couldn't resolve.

Where was D***y?

Ten Kokoda Challenges.

The Kokoda Track in PNG.

Eleven Australian summits.

Not a problem.

Three days with the Gremlin...

And D***y disappears.

Coincidence?

I think not.

Batman would never have allowed this. 🦇

Next month:

👉 The journey home — the walk might be over, but the adventure isn't quite finished.

---

To be continued... because turning back was never really an option.

16/10/2026

# # Chapter 8 — Day Two: Band-Aids, Life Lessons and a Very Heavy Backpack

Day Two on the Bibbulmun Track.

After yesterday's 40 kilometres, getting lost, road closures and an attempt to turn my gas cooker into a flamethrower, I woke up feeling remarkably optimistic.

Well, optimistic might be stretching it.

I was still debating whether continuing into the wilderness without a functioning cooker was particularly sensible.

A fellow camper, hearing of my predicament, generously offered me their cooker as a gift.

A lovely gesture.

But I had a better idea.

Tape and Band-Aids.

After all, Band-Aids have been my preferred medical treatment for just about everything over the years.

Cuts, blisters, aches, pains...

If a Band-Aid couldn't fix it, perhaps I just needed a bigger one.

Surely the same principle applied to camping equipment.

The Gremlin wholeheartedly approved.

And off we went.

Along the way, I met a lady undertaking her first adventure since losing her husband.

We chatted about life, loss, choices and the peculiar things that motivate people to undertake these journeys.

After hearing about my adventures so far, she offered an interesting observation.

Perhaps the universe was trying to teach me something.

You don't have to go through life finishing everything you start.

An interesting thought.

Particularly when you're two days into a planned thousand-kilometre walk.

I thanked her for the conversation and continued.

The Gremlin, naturally, pretended not to hear.

Further along, I met another woman heading towards Perth.

What a wonderful character.

We chatted for a while before she asked whether I'd seen some other women walking in the same direction.

I hadn't.

She seemed a little confused by my answer, but assured me she was fine.

We parted company.

At the next hut, the mystery began to unravel.

A group of women arrived looking for a missing friend.

I described the woman I'd met.

They didn't think it sounded like her.

After a few phone calls, however, it turned out that it was indeed their friend.

She'd taken a left turn instead of a right.

Now, given my performance in a creek bed the previous day, I was hardly qualified to criticise anyone's navigation.

But there was more to her story.

She was living with a medical condition that was progressively taking away her ability to remain active.

And there she was.

Out on the track.

Making the most of what she could still do.

Apparently, she'd even been interviewed for a television program.

I was genuinely impressed.

I asked her friends to pass on a message.

"Tell her she's my new hero."

And I meant it.

There's something rather special about people who refuse to let life's difficulties stop them enjoying what they still have.

After those encounters, I pushed on.

Three huts for the day.

By the time I reached the third, I was ready to settle in, put my feet up and enjoy a hot meal.

Time to test my brilliant Band-Aid engineering.

Unfortunately, the cooker hadn't read the same repair manual I had.

The Band-Aids didn't work.

Apparently, there are limits to what adhesive tape can achieve.

Particularly when gas and flames are involved.

Common sense finally prevailed.

The cooker was put aside as unsafe, and some generous fellow campers lent me theirs.

Another problem solved by the kindness of strangers.

And another reminder that perhaps I wasn't quite as self-sufficient as I'd imagined.

Finally, there was one last thing to do.

Ring Deana and say goodnight.

After the previous evening's conversation, I'd hoped she'd sound a little happier.

She didn't.

If anything, she sounded sadder.

And just like that, another ten tonnes was added to the backpack.

Funny thing about carrying a pack.

You can weigh every item before leaving home.

You can calculate food, water, clothing and equipment down to the last gram.

But there's no allowance in the calculations for the weight of someone you love being unhappy.

I'd met two remarkable women that day.

One had suggested that perhaps I didn't need to finish everything I started.

The other had demonstrated the extraordinary determination of someone making the most of every opportunity life still offered.

Two very different lessons.

Both worth thinking about.

And somewhere in the darkness, with the Gremlin unusually quiet, I began wondering which lesson the universe was actually trying to teach me.

Tomorrow was Day Three.

The pack wasn't getting any lighter.

And not all of that weight was camping equipment.

Next month:

👉 Day Three — the adventure continues, the Gremlin still has plans, and the question of how far to go is becoming rather more complicated.

---

**To be continued... because turning back was never really an option.**

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.**

---

**To be continued... because turning back was never really an option.**

08/08/2026

# # Chapter 6 — The Omens Were There

The training was finished.

Well... almost.

There was one final training walk planned up Mt Edwards.

Mt Edwards was closed.

In hindsight, this may have been an omen.

A sensible person might have interpreted a closed mountain immediately before attempting a 1,000-kilometre walk as Mother Nature gently suggesting:

*"Perhaps you should reconsider."*

The Gremlin interpreted it differently.

*"Training complete."*

Fair enough.

We headed for the airport.

We boarded the plane, settled in and prepared to fly to Perth.

Then we sat on the tarmac.

Apparently the plane had developed a fault.

Eventually the fault was sorted and we were airborne.

Excellent.

The problems were behind us.

Except then we started running out of fuel.

Technically, of course, the **plane** was running short of fuel.

This distinction offered surprisingly little comfort at the time.

So we diverted short of Perth, landed at another airport and returned to what was rapidly becoming the recurring theme of the journey...

Sitting on a tarmac.

Eventually we made it to Perth.

Surely that was enough trouble for one day.

Apparently not.

I'd booked accommodation for the night before the walk.

Unfortunately, I appeared to have selected one of the roughest parts of Perth in which to enjoy our final peaceful night's sleep before heading into the wilderness.

At this point, the wilderness was starting to look safer.

Never mind.

Tomorrow morning we'd be up early, fully equipped and finally on our way.

Except...

I'd forgotten some of the equipment.

So instead of an early start, the next morning involved finding somewhere to buy replacements.

By the time we had everything we needed, the carefully planned schedule was already disappearing into the distance.

We hadn't even taken the first step of a 1,000-kilometre walk...

and we were behind.

Looking back, the signs were there.

**The mountain was closed.
The plane broke.
The plane needed fuel.
We landed somewhere we weren't supposed to.
The hotel was questionable.
I'd forgotten equipment.
And we were already running late.**

Batman would probably have called those warning signs.

The Gremlin called them...

*"A good start."*

Next month:

👉 **Day One — we finally hit the Bibbulmun Track, immediately encounter a road closure nobody told us about, rely on the kindness of strangers to get through... and then manage to set dinner on fire.**

---

**To be continued... because turning back was never really an option.**

16/07/2026

The planning was finished.

The training was about as complete as it was ever going to be.

The companions had gradually vanished.

There was nothing left to organise.

It was time to leave.

Funny thing about adventures...

The hardest step isn't usually the first one on the track.

It's the one where you close the front door behind you and realise there isn't an easy way back.

The Gremlin, naturally, had no such concerns.

He was excited.

Western Australia was waiting.

The Bibbulmun Track was waiting.

A thousand kilometres of forest, hills, mud, rain and whatever else Mother Nature felt like throwing at us were waiting.

Batman simply nodded.

He'd stopped trying to explain things several chapters ago.

As the kilometres rolled by, excitement and doubt quietly shared the front seat.

One kept saying,

*"This is going to be amazing."*

The other whispered,

*"Have you completely lost your mind?"*

Oddly enough...
..both voices sounded remarkably similar.

The Gremlin solved the problem the only way he knew how.

He declared,

*"Too late now."*

And for once...
..he was absolutely right.

Next month:

👉 **The first steps on the Bibbulmun Track... where enthusiasm is high, backpacks still fit properly, and nobody has yet met the hill that changes everything.**

---

**To be continued... because turning back was never really an option.**

06/06/2026

Many → Few → Oh dear, it's just us now.

Training was progressing.

Not necessarily well.

But it was progressing.

The Gremlin was feeling confident.

The mission had been approved by Canberra.

The walking had begun.

The gym had been visited.

Surely the hard part was behind us.

Then something strange started happening.

People disappeared.

Not physically.

At least, not that we could prove.

At the beginning, there had been plenty of interest.

Everyone liked the idea of a great adventure.

A long-distance walk.

Fresh air.

Beautiful scenery.

Personal challenge.

The sort of thing that sounds magnificent while sitting comfortably in a chair.

But as the training distances increased, a curious phenomenon emerged.

Phones became quieter.

Messages took longer to answer.

Some people suddenly discovered important commitments.

Others developed a previously unknown affection for staying home.

One by one, the numbers began to shrink.

The Gremlin remained optimistic.

"They must be training secretly," he suggested.

Batman was less convinced.

He had seen this before.

People love the idea of climbing mountains.

Far fewer enjoy climbing them.

People love the idea of walking a thousand kilometres.

Far fewer enjoy the preparation.

By now, the Gremlin had started to notice something.

Every training walk seemed to have fewer participants than the one before.

Still, he refused to be discouraged.

After all, how hard could it be?

Batman simply stared into the distance.

The answer to that question was coming.

And it was carrying a backpack.

Next month:

👉 *The journey to the start line begins, and the Gremlin discovers that travelling to an adventure can be an adventure all by itself.*







---

27/05/2026

Lots of miles under the hood now.

01/05/2026

On my last training run up Mt Edwards, I passed a group of future adults — teenagers — heading up as I was coming down.

At the bottom I noticed a Kokoda Challenge bus, so I assumed they may have been part of one of the Kokoda Youth Foundation programs. It brought back a few memories.

In the early days, Bloom Locksmiths sponsored teams in the Gold Coast Kokoda Challenge fundraising event — including a team I remember as the “Mixed Nuts”, who did us proud and came away with a couple of trophies.

More importantly, it reminded me why I have always thought so highly of this organisation.

Kokoda Youth Foundation works with young people through challenge, discipline, mentorship, teamwork, community service and the Spirit of Kokoda — Courage, Endurance, Mateship and Sacrifice.

Having once sat on the fence myself, I have a lot of respect for any organisation that helps young people fall on the right side of it.

It is good to see they now have a presence in Ipswich as well.

For anyone who wants to learn more, support, donate, volunteer or simply see what they do:

Kokoda Youth Foundation:
[https://kokodayouthfoundation.com/](https://kokodayouthfoundation.com/)

Youth Programs:
[https://kokodayouthfoundation.com/youth-programs-we-fund/](https://kokodayouthfoundation.com/youth-programs-we-fund/)

Donate:
[https://kokodayouthfoundation.com/donate/](https://kokodayouthfoundation.com/donate/)

The Kokoda Challenge:
[https://www.kokodachallenge.com/](https://www.kokodachallenge.com/)

A worthy organisation, and one Bloom Locksmiths still thinks very highly of.

If you need more information about Donating, applying to Volunteer and how to join our Youth Programs, please reach out to our team and we'll be in touch!

21/04/2026

With the mission officially approved by absolutely nobody in Canberra,
there was now only one small detail left.

Preparation.

The Gremlin announced that training would begin immediately.

Batman asked what the plan was.

“Simple,” said the Gremlin.
“We walk.”

And so… training began.

There were walks.
There were hills.
There were discussions about “pace” and “distance” and “not collapsing halfway.”

The Gremlin approached it with complete confidence.

“How hard can it be?” he said.

Batman didn’t answer.
He just kept walking… slightly ahead… at a pace that suggested experience.

But the Gremlin had his own ideas about preparation.

Apparently, this included… strength training.

There was time spent in the gym.
There were weights involved.
There was absolutely no clear connection to walking 1,000 kilometres.

Still… it felt official.

At first, there was enthusiasm.

Fresh legs.
Big ideas.
Optimism everywhere.

But it didn’t take long for reality to start quietly tapping on the shoulder.

Distances felt longer than expected.
Hills seemed… unnecessary.

And somewhere along the way, a very important realisation began to form:

Announcing an adventure…
and preparing for one…
are not the same thing.

The Gremlin, of course, remained confident.

Possibly overconfident.

Definitely underprepared.

Next month:
👉 Companions begin to disappear… as the true scale of the journey becomes clear.