Originally written September 2025
You know you’re not as fit as you thought when you struggle to keep up with a mother carrying both her own camping gear and her nine-year-old son’s. 
My endurance was fine, but I was very aware that carrying a heavy pack was a different kind of fitness altogether. I simply wasn’t strong enough to move quickly under that much weight.
The original plan sounded straightforward enough: ascend Mt Bartle Frere from the western approach, reach the summit, camp at the eastern campground, tackle the boulder field the next morning, then descend on the eastern side.
Simple.
Except hiking plans have a habit of becoming suggestions.
After about three and a half hours, we had covered only six kilometres. I told the group that, worst-case scenario, we could camp near the summit because at our pace I didn’t think we would reach the eastern campground before dark.
Then the plan changed again.
By around 4:30 pm, the fog was getting thicker, progress was slow, and I had a feeling there might soon be tears — and not necessarily just from the nine-year-old.
We decided to stop at the western campground instead.
Except when we arrived, it was packed. There was room for only one more tent.
So we backtracked about 80 metres and found a clearing.
And as it turned out, it was perfect for us.
The next morning, with fresh-ish legs and slightly restored optimism, we continued towards the summit and reached it around 8 am.
Then came the boulders.
I have to give the young boy credit. He tackled them bravely, although every now and then we would hear:
“I don’t want to die!”
Perfectly reasonable, really.
I’m fairly certain the same thought crossed the minds of several adults in the group. We were just old enough to keep it to ourselves. 
Eventually, we made our way down and reached Josephine Falls car park at around 4 pm — tired, hungry, and very relieved that everyone had made it back in one piece.
It wasn’t the hike we had planned.
But perhaps that’s one of the things I love about hiking: sometimes the destination stays the same while everything in between changes.
And somehow, those are usually the trips you remember most.
This was my last hike for the year. Hiking would have to wait until my next study break.
But what a way to finish.
Stories Along the Way 