Going back for a climb I never forgot
Last Friday I went back for a climb I have been thinking about for years.
Not for a race. Not for a training block. Just because I have a body that can still do it, and because a day out in the bush is one of my favourite things in the world.
13.24 kilometres. Nearly 1,000 metres of climbing. Over five hours out there. But to explain why it mattered, I need to take you back a few years.
Top of the Grose to Richmond, in a day
Not long after the 2019 bushfires tore through the Grose Valley, and just before COVID hit, another ultra runner and I had an idea. We wanted to go from the top of the Grose Valley all the way to the bottom.
The plan was to enter from Mount Victoria, drop down to the Grose River, and follow it without a track all the way to Richmond. Somewhere around 50 kilometres, we figured. A big day, but a day.
We set off around 5am on a Thursday. I told my wife I would be home that night.
A night against a rock wall
The river was brutal. Rock hopping for hours, floating down a couple of rapids, picking our way through country that does not care about your plans. We passed two death adders and two brown snakes along the way.
By midnight we were nowhere near the end, and no closer to getting home. So we tucked in against a rock wall, wrapped ourselves in our little foil safety blankets, and slept for about four hours.
Around 5.30am, once it was light, we got moving again and made the call. Richmond was not happening. We needed a way out.
The climb that stayed with me
Using the Earthmate app on my phone, I could see a line out towards Bilpin that would bring us up onto the Paterson Range Fire Trail. There was no track. We left the river and climbed one huge, steep and, honestly, slightly scary climb, then pushed through the bush to the fire trail.
We started at 5am Thursday and finished around 6pm Friday. You can imagine the state we were in.
That climb out never left me. For years I have wanted to go back and do it again, on purpose, on fresh legs, and actually see it properly.
Same climb, very different bush
So that was the plan last Friday. Hike down to the Grose River, find the spot where we exited all those years ago, climb back up it, and work my way through the bush to the Paterson Range Fire Trail, just like we did back then.
I made one silly call. I did not wear long pants.
I had also forgotten that the first time through was only months after the fires. Years of regrowth since then have turned the bush into a wall. It was hard back then. Last week was a different animal. In some sections it took me over an hour to cover 800 metres. That is how thick it was.
The numbers from the day
I set off at 9.30am from the Paterson Range Fire Trail side, in the Blue Mountains National Park, and made a loop of it.
- The first 3 kilometres were easy fire trail, gently downhill.
- Then the drop. Around 270 metres straight down to the Grose River in under two kilometres.
- A stretch along the river, rock hopping on the valley floor, before finding the old exit point.
- The climb out, the same one we took all those years ago, then thick bush back up to the ridge and the fire trail.
All up: 13.24 kilometres, 998 metres of climbing, 4 hours 24 minutes moving and 5 hours 20 minutes out there. Some kilometres took me close to half an hour.
This is what got me into ultra running
I love ultra running. It tests my fitness, it tests my head, and it pushes me in ways I need. But what I really love is heading out the door for a day and having an adventure.
It had been years since I had done a proper off track hike. I had forgotten how much I loved it. I had also forgotten how physically hard it is, because I have spent so long running and training in one particular way.
Last Friday was a completely different kind of work:
- Rock hopping and scrambling on hands and feet down to the river and back up.
- Lifting my legs up and over branch after branch, pushing them down, using muscles running barely touches.
- Five and a half hours on my feet with my heart rate sitting around 150 for most of it, even when I was moving at walking pace or slower.
Aerobically it was a beautiful day of work for my long distance running. And yet it never felt tough in my head. Even when the scrub was slowing me to a crawl, it was just a hike. The day was magic. Exactly what I wanted.
A body that can move is a gift
This day reminded me that not every training session needs to be planned and tailored to the minute. I did not train specifically to move like that. I could do it because of the way I live, day in and day out.
That matters to me, because years ago I was living in a prison of my own making. I was carrying more body fat than I wanted, living in a way that left me tired and flat, and I did not feel like doing any of this. Days like last Friday are the clearest reminder of how far behind me that is now.
I love moving my body. I love an adventure. And I get to have both because of the small, ordinary choices I make every day.
You do not need a river to feel it
You do not have to hike 50 kilometres down the Grose to feel what I felt last Friday. A long walk, a bush track you have never tried, a morning somewhere you would normally drive past. Start there.
If you want help building the kind of everyday fitness that keeps those doors open, that is exactly what I love helping people with.