To Grafton

28th April : Following beaches I've made it to Arawara, staying tonight with a mate. Today was relaxing so tomorrow I can set my sights for Grafton. There's lots of friends in this part of the world.

Letter

Walking up 30m from the surf, lying on freshly cut turf after a comfy nights sleep, is a fairly reasonable way to start a new day. The only thing is that people start wandering around early at Emerald Beach and a swaggie could be caught making his bed.

From Emerald Beach to Arawara, where my mate was staying, is a relaxing stroll compared with some walks. News had passed around and I was meeting people on the beach who knew my name! It's a strange feeling when reputation proceeds you.

In Arawara a resident called 'oi!' from across the street. When there's a chance that you're in trouble for something you never answer the first 'oi'. I answered quite promptly to a man offering me a beer. All he wanted was to let me know that 'life is beautiful - enjoy it'.

At my mate's caravan park a dinner was snuck to me and the managers were casually detoured so that I could stay on the sly. A bright moon shone on the ocean and the air sat perfectly still waiting for a body to breathe its care-free scent.


29th April : The McLean river is a peaceful welcome to Grafton. It was a 50km walk with little else to recall. I'm staying here with a mate and I don't want to rush while I'm here.

Letter

As sun dawned on the caravan park it also dawned, the amount of distance I had to cover. Grafton lay 51km along bush-lined highway and I wanted to make good time to visit another mate. With ears pinned I spent the first few kilometres warming up my boot soles - for added performance.

The only worthy note was an eviction of a tick hitch hiker from a spot unmentionable.

When you're trying to cover such a distance the last thing you want is to think about it. The word is 'focus' and any thought left or right of it is not useful for your motivation. Stand up straight and keep moving ahead, only think of the next 5km and try not to fall asleep on your feet. I don't recall much about the day until I came across a ridge to look over the twinkling stars of Grafton town. Beyond the town was a mountain range, sillouetted by the red tail of daylight.

My thoughts quickly turned to personal safety as the swaggie lane fell away into a dark uneven roadside. On these nights a swaggie must assert a dominance on his personal space, starring the traffic aside.


30th April : A sunny and placid Saturday morning as I make my way back to the track. Founded by a convict on the run, Grafton is spread out and laid back, it's sad to say goodbye. Onward!

Letter

In Grafton I rested, trying to summon some magical inspiration that would drive me through to Brisbane. Walking about town without my swag was quite liberating, merely for the fact that it felt like walking on cusions of air. On a wall I read some of the place's history.

The area was founded by an escaped convict, Richard Craig, who'd escaped from Moreton Bay (near Brisbane). In the 1830s he managed without roads, signs, hot bread shops and text messages, through the bush on a lonely path. This story of spirit, determination and survival made me consider my little stroll like a quaint tea party. I have a new pioneering hero.


1st May : I know what it feels like to see your motivation slip away. By thinking I should have made it by now I've lost focus on the very next step. It's easy to trip up not paying attention.
I've made camp after trudging out a 40km lead from Grafton. All daily distances are distorted by my 50km effort into Grafton. In these silent cane fields I should sleep well.

Letter

There was probably no spectacular marketing plan when towns like Ulmarra and Brushgrove were being built. Their buildings, streets and town greens were constructed with a care, instilling an atmosphere that whispered 'stay a while'. Today it whispers 'stay a while and listen to my stories'. The old country pubs in this region also have a particular allure.

Maybe I've been listening to people too much when they discover how far I've walked. One bloke swore with amazement when I told him I was walking to Brisbane, then he sware twice with astonishment when I said I'd walked from Melbourne. When I think of how far I've walked it makes the distance remaining seem like a meaningless painful extra. It's just 250km or so! I can't wait to finish but I want to make the most of my freedom. Just plodding away at the last of it wouldn't be very enjoyable, but I'm almost inclined to set my sights and finsh promptly. Where's the beauty in that though?

As I walked the dark road along the Clarence River, making up time, the distant horizon glow of old Grafton town made me wonder why anyone would wish to travel more than a day's walk per day anyway? So many questions without answers.