Two out of three ain't bad

I first heard about the three peaks in the Blue Mountains from a friend
of mine whose mother was the first woman to climb Mts Cloudmaker,
Paralyser and Guouogang, and return to her starting point near Katoomba,
all within 48 hours.  My appetite was further whetted by a terrific
article by Trevor Lewis in a 1993 Wild magazine entitled "Three peaks, a
cup of tea, and a good lie down".

Blue mountains tiger walkers of the 1960s had identified the three peaks
as an ideal benchmark weekend walk since the start and finish points
were accessible from the Katoomba railway station.  The 75km route takes
you over the 11 km of the Narrow Neck fire trail, before descending
1000m to the Cox's river.  The next 25 km involve three separate 900-1000m
ascents and descents, almost entirely off-track, returning one
eventually to the junction of Kanangra creek and the Cox's river, for
the final 24km (and another trifling 1000m climb) back to the road head.
Notable "walkers" include John Fantini, who did it in 17 hours, and
Peter Treseder, 13 hours.

I'd originally thought to do the Peaks solo over 5 days in late 1995
after writing my thesis, but the years, and a recent discovery of the
joys of running, had evolved this plan into something rather more
energetic.  Filled with an optimistic idea of our own strength, David
Singleton (hitherto "Dave"), David Baldwin ("David") and I decided to
try and conquer the peaks in a single day.  The idea was that the
lighter weight in our packs would enable us to move significantly
faster, and also eliminate that well known time-wasting activity, sleep.

At 3:30am one October Saturday morning we staggered, bleary eyed, from
the tent next to the car, packed our bags, forced some food into our
unwilling stomachs and trotted off down the road.  The weather was
forecast to be hot (around 30 in Canberra) and we were rather
apprehensive about where we would find water.  The Cox's, despite being
one of the major sources for Warragamba dam, and therefore Sydney's
water supply, is horribly polluted from mining activities, so the first
water would be, at the earliest, at Dex creek, just near the summit of
Cloudmaker.  Knowing that covering 35km and climbing Cloudmaker in hot
weather would be thirsty work, we each carried 4 litres of water at the
start, making something of a mockery of the "light" part of our light
and fast approach.  Later on we'd make a mockery of the "fast" part as
well...

I was feeling really bad during the road run in the dark along
Narrowneck -- I'd competed in a running race the weekend before and had
felt very sore and sorry all week.  I wondered just how much I'd be
slowing down my companions, and tried to determine the last point I
could turn around without spoiling the trip for everyone.  The other's
must have wondered, as I hobbled along behind them, just how much of an
anchor they'd brought along.

Just as in a rogaine, however, our spirits received a huge lift as the
sunrise began in earnest, revealing the awe inspring sandstone cliffs on
both sides of the ridge.  The end of the road signalled a temporary end
to the running as we broached the cliff line via Taro's ladder and
followed single track past the wild dog mountains and down, down, down
to our first views of the Cox's river, a silver band glimmering in the
early morning light.  We hit the river at 6:15am.  A good time.  Lots of
room for optimism, although David had been suffering pretty badly for
some kilometres from quadricep cramps.

Much stuffing around, taking off and putting on of shoes for the 5 river
crossing during the 2km section along the river that took us to the foot
of Kooricone spur.  It seemed to take forever.  We followed the spur up
to Gentiles pass, and onto the Gangerang plateau, by which time it was
clear that our water situation was marginal at best. The sun was now
very intense, and we'd all hit the bottle pretty hard during the sharp
ascent.  It was also becoming clear that we were slipping dangerously
behind schedule.  Dave, clearly the strongest of us at this time, was
acutely aware of this and trying to maintain a rapid tempo.

Navigating the Gangerang plateau can be confusing -- it is sprinkled
with difficult-to-distinguish ridges and gullies and would be a
difficult place in poor weather.  The sunshine was rapidly becoming our
enemy, however, as we downed our last drops of water and struggled
towards Dex creek, where we hoped to find water.  We were all rather
dehydrated by this time, and the uncertainty of finding water didn't
help our pessimistic state.

Doom and gloom can yield so easily to optimism -- within one hour we'd
found bountiful water and drunk our fill, then picked up the trail
leading to summit of Cloudmaker.  We duly crashed for a while, admiring
the great expanses of the Kanangra Boyd wilderness and marvelling how
far we'd come.  This moment of repose was definitely the high point of
the walk for me.  It was 11am.  

Then it was down, down, down, following the track over Rack, rip rumble
and roar and Mt Stormbreaker, passing a solo walker out from Kanangra, and
plunging down to Kanangra creek.  During this steep descent David was in
serious discomfort from his quads, and by the time we hit the creek
serious decisions had to be made.  Since 6am we'd been losing time
steadily against our 17 hour schedule and David had no desire for
another big descent.

After some anguish Dave and I chose to attack Mt Paralyser while David
followed the creek, alone.  We'd meet back at the Cox's river, reducing
the walk to Two Peaks.  I'm still not sure whether or not it was very
foolish to separate -- our deliberations were held 35 km from our car,
and if David had had problems during his solo walk then things would
have been grim indeed.

The climb and descent of Paralyser took a huge amount out of Dave and I,
and served to underline the enormity of our undertaking.  The view from
the summit cairn extended to little more than the next tree, but it was
still a special place to be, giving a strong sense of 'out there".
Almost all the log book entries were from 3 peakers, underlining the
worthlessness of the peak to those enjoying more sedate walks.  During
the descent, Guouogang loomed massively only 3km away, the approach
ridge appearing brutish in the extreme.  Neither of us could imagine
attacking that beast in our fatigued state.

We met back at the river a little before sunset (6pm) and soon were
pushing up the ridge for home.  We hammered confidently up the hill
before discovering, all at once, that there was nothing left in the
tanks.  We'd hit the wall!  Just as sunrise had lifted our spirits 13
hours before, so sunset drained our resources and left us wallowing in
despair.  We found that even walking along flat ground was a great
effort and the straightforward stroll around the wild dog mountains back
to Medlow gap became a forced march of epic proportions.  The world
reduced to the pitiful yellow cone illuminated by our headtorches as we
followed the interminable twists and rises of the track.  I for one
seriously contemplated crawling into my space blanket and crashing for
the night, even when the end was so close.  it was only 8pm, but we felt
sooo bad.

In the middle of this epic segment the forest gloom yielded briefly --
"This must be Mobb's Swamp".  "It is!" grumbled the reply from the
darkness.  We wondered how often poor campers here get disturbed by
would-be three peakers struggling back from their attempt.  



I've pondered lots on our collective "death" and believe it to have
been more mental than physical.  Had we been returning in triumph after
successfully demolishing all three peaks, our adrenaline would have had
us soaring back in on wings like eagles, the fatigue kept at bay.  yeah,
well, soemthing like that, anyway!  However, as dogs returning with our
tails between our legs, we quickly and communally lost the force to
drive our bodies, and the campaign fell apart like a rusty Skoda.

After Medlow gap we were spooked by the buzzing, sizzling power lines
over Cedar gap, then cut in the afterburners after taking sports gel
(complete with caffeine) to get up Taro's Ladder.  Those final 24km took
us more than 6 hours; it was not until 12:30 that we finally staggered
back to the car, where the effort to feed ourselves then go to bed was
almost too much.  I can never remember feeling so hammered as during
those evening hours, and swore innumerable times never to do anything
like this again.

The next day we were rather crippled, perhaps with the exception of
David, hard man extraordinaire, and we all felt depleted for most of the
succeeding week.  Now, as the memories of the pain fade, plans for a
return venture crystallise.  OK, it nearly killed us to climb just 2 of
the peaks in 21 hours; what sort of fools are we to return in the hope
of doing all 3 in 16 hours?  A good question indeed!  Are we driven by
vanity, by some desire to be heroes?  Andrenalin, endorphin junkies,
perhaps?  I'd prefer to believe that we are pushing ourselves to
discover our limits, and afterwards, to enjoy the satisfaction of having
found them.  For me, one thing at least is sure: the hardest moments in
my life have burned the most enduring and treasured memories.
Do these memories justify the madness?  For me, yes.