Cooloola Great Walk: Part Two

Dutgee to Brahminy
On the fourth morning heavy dew dampened our tent, as mist sat in the valley before the sun rose.

With the Cooloola Sandpatch crossing ahead of us that day, we wanted to set of early to avoid being ‘in the desert’ at midday, even though it was a shame to leave such a pretty spot. 

It's delicious. But that's not how you make porridge!

By the time we got to the sandpatch after winding our way along the Noosa River and then joining the track up the hill, it was almost lunchtime and the sun was pretty fierce. After glimpses of the view through the vegetation on the way up, we got a stunning panorama across Cooloola. Dumping our packs on the sand we went for an exploratory wander to look at the view across Lake Cootharaba.

After climbing up over the sandy ridge we finally saw the ocean again.

Despite the warnings regarding navigating through ‘the dessert’ we had no trouble although at times I wondered if I’d lost my marbles anyway. In the very middle of this exposed, harsh environment, we heard the constant call of whipbirds, which are normally a rainforest species. Of course they were coming from the forest just on the other side, but it still seemed a little surreal.

"We are going...thadaway"

The name ‘Rainbow Beach’ comes from the coloured sands of the towering sand dunes near the town and on the ocean side the sand patch was pretty mix of coloured streaks.

Footprints in the sand

We'd already met a few groups along the walk, who had been intrigued by the fact we were walking North to South rather than the South-North way the trail was written. The very technical reason for this was that by the time we'd booked the campsites, a walking group had already filled all the spots on the days we were after. So grudgingly we booked in the other direction, while I worried that all the great views would probably be at our back. A couple of days in we crossed paths with the walking group and explained they were the reason we were going about the walk backwards. While apologising, they also pointed out that we would have fewer up hill stretches. And how right they were. The sandpatch crossing was all downhill, our backs to the sun and the ocean ahead. We really appreciated this when at the bottom of the sandpatch, we met two men, who were just about to start their way up the sand.  

Later that day, we finally got the views that had initially tempted us to do that walk in first place. From the ridge we could see all the way from Double Island Point to Noosa.

Where we came from.

Where we are going

A few days earlier, we’d met a group who’d managed to spot whales from that spot, so we waited for a while, but with no luck.

'Here looks like a good spot'

The final nights campsite was in spectacular spot, with 180 degree views spanning from the ocean to the lake. We thought it would be all ours, until a couple of guys turned up just before sunset. Dropping their packs on the benches, they immediately set about the task of drinking beer they’d carried all the way up the hill with them.

After looking at the stars that evening, we left them still on the benches while we went to our tent. The next morning the heavy dew had saturated their sleeping bags, while they had slept under the stars. It turns out they didn’t have a tent with them. At least they got a great view of the mist covering the lake as the sun came up.

Brahminy to Tewantin
From our lovely perch up on the hill, we started to descend down to the beach and towards Noosa on the last day. Just like the previous couple of days we were still surrounded by spring flowers, but this time there was also a great view.

 At the last lookout, before the rapid descent we marvelled at the massive stretch of water all around and how close they were to each other.

Lake Cootharaba

Noosa in the distance

The previous day I’d been very excited to spot a red-belly black that had slithered off the trail as we approached. On the last day, we got an even better view. This time, the snake didn’t even move despite the fact I’d stepped less than half a metre from its tail. Judging it to be an Eastern Brown Snake – a very aggressive variety and also the second most venomous snake in the world – we stood looking straight into its reptilian eyes. Head raised, it fixed us with an unblinking stare. We waited, staring at each other until finally it relented and slithered out of our way.

A few hours later, we finally stepped onto the beach, this time so close to Noosa I could almost taste the gelato that awaited us there. After just a kilometre on the sand, the track headed inland again to end of the trail and the bus stop.

Cooloola Great Walk: Part I

Standing next to our backpacks waiting for the bus felt the same. Just like always, I wondered if we were at the right stop, at the right time, on the right day. As usual we were and as we took our seats towards the back of the bus, we could hear that familiar mix of foreign languages.

As expected, moments after pulling our packs from the luggage compartment we were approached by a couple of people from the local backpackers asking if we had accommodation for the night. And just like always, we said we did.

So the script was identical to the one we’d been through dozens of times in Argentina and Chile, but we were much, much closer to home. And yet even the familiar view of gum trees and golden grass looked different from the long distance bus.

I know what the locals sitting on nearby park benches were thinking - Stupid tourist! Look at her posing with that huge cheesy grin on her face in front of a gigantic kangaroo!

The 5-day Cooloola Great Walk is an 88km trail running from Noosa to Rainbow Beach (or the other way around) and involves car shuttling, which is why we were on a bus having public transport flashbacks (and pretending we were on a grand, many month adventure instead of making the most of a long, long weekend). Incidentally we’d always wondered if employees from backpacker’s places stood around like vultures waiting to accost weary bus travellers and offer cheap accommodation in Australia. Given that we got our answer, I would say the Greyhound experience was definitely rewarding!

Well that and we got to the start of the trail. Though funnily enough, as soon as we put our packs on, it felt like no time had passed at all since the last time we’d done this. No wait, it actually hurt a lot more than I remember which clearly shows I’ve gone soft in the last few months!

Rainbow Beach to Kauri Walker’s Camp
Given the late start and still short winter days, the first days mission was to get to camp before sunset. At the first sand patch not far from the trailhead, a woman took one look at the size of our packs and complimented us on our obviously superior fitness. So as a display of said strength we charged across the sand, muttering to each other that snow was easier to walk in and we didn’t really stop to take in the ocean views. In any case, we’d be looking at them for 5 days straight, right?

Well after 10 or so kilometres of forest, we reached a lovely little lake that reflected the afternoon light on it’s still waters. In the trees above the white cockatoos were squawking away as their black counterparts could be heard somewhere in the distance. Unfortunately, with the sun heading for the horizon, we couldn’t stay.

Not long after we heard the sound of an engine. Knowing we needed to cross a road before reaching camp, I was pretty excited thinking we were close. Except the engines turned out to be mounted on motorbikes and instead of being on the road, they ripped through the hiking trail. If they didn’t expect to see any hikers that weekend, they were in for a shock since there was someone on each leg of the hike, walking north to south. Except us, we’re rebels and walked it the other way around and for the better!

Anyway, after a bit of a climb, it was already twilight when we reached our campsite deep in the rainforest where another group where already chowing down on fine smelling dinner and dreaming about their pub meal the following day at Rainbow Beach. Lucky for us steak and wine were far from our minds since we'd carried smoked chicken for that night's dinner.

Kauri to Litoria
Leaving Rainbow Beach a few people had told us (okay they burst out laughing that we were going to camp before informing us) that rain was on the way and it came during the night. But by the following morning the skies looked clear, so we laid all our gear out on a bench ready to re-pack our bags. Moments later it started to pour down and we rushed into the only roofed spot in the campground – the toilet. But lucky for us the new pit toilet designs don’t smell much. Cooking breakfast while trying to prop the door open for some ventilation, I wondered if I’d cursed us when I wrote that we’d never had rain on a multi-day walk before.

Luckily the rain came down heavy and hard, but soon moved on and stayed away for the rest of the walk.

That day we didn’t see the ocean. In fact we didn’t see all that much except for lots of conveniently placed logs to rest our packs on when we needed a break.

Evidence of the Cooloola's past logging history.

After 20km walk through the rain forest we were relieved to get to the campsite on the ridge around sunset.

Litoria to Dutgee
By the third morning we were hoping for a bit of change of scenery. Luckily right from the outset we were in wallum scrub full of blooming flowers, grass trees and gums.

From the ridgeline we soon started to see the floodplain of the Noosa River that during the summer had overflowed and closed the whole area.

Nearer the river the ground was still a bit boggy even though the grassland seemed dry.

A little further along, the track almost disappeared in a sea of yellow flowered shrubs and the sound of buzzing bees filled the air.

It turned out to be a short walking day and we spent a lazy afternoon at one of the nicest campsites of the trail. It was located on the bank of the river, shaded with huge gums and surrounded by flowers.

Los Glaciares: Laguna Torro...rained out

After so many days of sunshine the Patagonian weather gods were clearly bored. And our luck ran out.

With the sky in an obviously cantankerous mood, we walked away from El Chalten – in a different direction – for our last overnight hike with Sebastian and Hannes.

Maybe it was because we would soon be heading in different directions after two weeks of travelling together, or I was still tired from the last four days or maybe it was just the steep hill we were hiking up, but the one thing I was sure of was that I didn't want to be there.

We'd been warned that the track was boggy in places which wasn't great news for my boots that were losing their sole. Yes, that on top of worn inner padding. But in the end, it didn't really matter. We had a few good moments of bright sunshine and happiness, until we hit the boggy section and it started to rain. Hoping that things would improve we were carefully picking our way through the mud to avoid wet boots.

Then, for the first time in our hiking history, it started really bucketing down. No we're not sheltered, just really lucky. Oops, I don't think I should have written that.

Add to that gusts of wind which were almost knocking us off our feet, along with driving rain so hard it felt like needles on my cheeks, so I didn't even want to look up from under my hood. Effectively there could have been pink elephants flying through the air and we wouldn't have seen them.

By the time we reached camp after walking for 4.5 hours, our pants were soaking wet as were our boots, because at some point it had seemed useless or even impossible to avoid the bog. The camp site was empty and it was still pouring, but luckily there was a tiny shelter about 3m by 2m where we could hang up our clothes and wait out the afternoon. We crowded in and pooled all our sweets, eating them all for lack of anything better to do. With the way things had turned out, we knew that Jeff and I had missed out on seeing Laguna Torro and the last glacier.

The next morning, the rain had turned to light snow and the ground was still frosty from the cold night. As we left camp at 7am to get back to El Chalten before noon, the sun was just coming up over the mountains. With the clear skies we got to see what we'd missed the previous day.

Well except pink elephants of course.

So while the weather gods smiled once more for us, the ATM ones did not. But that's a story for another day.

Los Glaciares: Four days, five glaciers

There's two videos uploaded to this post, so if you're an email subscriber click through to see them. Other video's you may have missed:
- Penguins sounding like they've swallowed a harmonica at Seno Otway
- A short clip of the outdoor concert in Valparaiso

If day one offered only a glimpse of a glacier, then day two was all about getting up close to them. Too close for my liking in fact, but let's be sequential about this.

Two close and too far

I was extremely excited that morning, as I'd read about a day trip to Cerro Electrico from this camp site that would take me 'well into the realm of mountaineers'. “Well hello there Challenge, I'm very pleased to meet you. And yes I would love to take you up on your offer, Challenge,” I said looking from my beloved guidebook to Cerro Electrico and back. Well, at least it was in the general direction of Cerro Electrico.

And what did the other members of the group say to Challenge? Well, they snubbed their noses mumbled a 'meh' and all agreed to go to the supposedly beautiful Lago Electrico. Needless to say that was the easy trail option and I was outnumbered three to one. 

 

“Pussies,” I muttered under my breath as we started walking around the great big rock that sheltered our camp site and along the flat valley floor. Admittedly the landscape was stunning.

After a bit of a climb we reached the desolate hook of Lago Electrico, before turning left and picking a path up towards Glaciar Pollone.

As we climbed over the moraine wall, we were hit by the view of the lake, the glacier and completely cloud free granite towers directly ahead. Of course this glacier was no Perito Moreno, but to be honest I was more blown away as we stood silently, completely alone in this extraordinary rugged landscape. 

 

But we weren't anywhere near snow, so Sebastian decided to go on an exploratory trip around the lake to the patch we could see on the other side. After a few minutes he'd disappeared amongst the boulders. As it seemed like a great idea, Jeff and I followed, while Hannes stayed on the shore having a nap. After climbing over the boulders for about half and hour and only just reaching the the far shore of the lake it hit home how absolutely immense this terrain was. 

   

Our little beach on the other side of the lake looked minuscule and certainly the person sleeping there was no bigger than a flea. 

 

The access to the far bigger and more significant Glaciar Marconi involved a glorious scramble over boulders and moraine debris all the way along the shore of Lago Electrico. 

 

Along the way we met a few small groups decked out with ropes, plastic slides and ice climbing gear. They'd spent the last few days on the glacier we were heading towards and had planned to hike a 6 day circuit from El Chalten, across Glaciar Marconi, to the much bigger Glaciar Viedma and then back into town.  

Unfortunately the weather had been so bad, they'd spent a few days in their tent before deciding to turn back on what had turned into a glorious, sunny day. Needless to say, not only was I spellbound by the idea of ice trekking on the Viedma Glaciar, but now I felt like a pussy! 

When we finally arrived at the terminal face of the glacier, I was reminded of our very different experience when we'd gone ice trekking on the Franz Josef Glacier in the New Zealand. 

There the terminal face had been cordoned off at least 50m before it and the warnings indicated that getting any closer could result in death. In Argentina, we were clearly expected to use common sense which arguably we didn't as we posed for pictures next to massive chunks of ice that had recently fallen from the face.

Next, Sebastian decided to walk into the chamber under the glacier from where the melting ice flowed to form a river. Jeff followed him.

 

Three in one

The next day we trekked back to Glaciar Peidras Blancas that we'd seen on the first day. Again, it was just us and the glacier, at least for a while, so we sat on rock on the edge of the lake just watching as little blue icebergs bobbed about occasional disturbed by the ice falling on the other side of the lagoon. And remarkably, the towers stood in the background almost completely unobscured by cloud. 

After pitching camp Campamento Poincenot, we headed towards Glaciar Rio Blanco via a barely discernible track that followed the river. 

Although I kept polling everyone on which was their favourite, I don't remember what anyone thought, so I'm going on a limb to say this was the best. At the far side of Laguna Sucia the glacier hung off the cliff face, with Fitz Roy just behind it. The ice falls produced surges in the water level pushing and dragging water in and out of the river we were sitting next to.

Sorry about the angle. If you know how to turn videos around, leave a comment or email me!

 The last glacier of the day was above us over a ridge. To get there we would have needed to go back to camp to start the trail up to Glaciar de los Tres. Too lazy to do that, the guys figured we should be able to climb up to the ridge as they had seen people there. After scrambling up slippery loose gravel, falling down in knee deep sections of snow then looking down to see just how steep the slope was I figured that some people have a strange definition of 'lazy'.  Needless to say this was one of the most fun parts of our trek!

When we finally crested we found a frozen Laguna de los Tres covered in snow, with Fitz Roy still standing naked and a stunning 360 degree view.

One for the many

The lookout at Laguna Los Tres is another one of those places where keen people slog up the hill to watch the first rays of sunshine touch the granite spires. Just like at Torres del Paine, we'd gone to the lookout the previous afternoon because the guys all wanted to stay snuggled in their sleeping bags until well after dawn. But as soon as I saw sun, I went for a wander around the camp site on the still frosty earth. 

 

The last glacier is part of a popular day walk from El Chalten. So after enjoying the other glaciers in near silence, I have to admit that sharing Glaciar Torre took a bit of a shine off it despite the crystal clear day.

On the way back we ran into another hiker who'd done the 'W' virtually with us, but had continued on to do the full circuit. He'd been caught in extremely bad weather and had sworn that he'd tell everybody and anybody to not bother doing the full 9 day loop. Of course other people had told us it was amazing. Well that's Patagonia; beautiful one day, blow's you away the next.