We continue on beside the river. It's peaceful walking.
Over a stile and we're back in private property again
There's no name anywhere, but I think we're now in Glenhope station.
Just along the way a little is the turnoff to Magdalen hut - in the style of the cullers' huts, I believe, but at 8 bunks, a little larger. We, however, are continuing on the track proper, which involves crossing another suspension bridge.
The hardest thing about this one is getting onto it. The wires all converge at one point, which means you either crouch for a handgrip, or attempt to balance on a couple of bottom wires which have a strong propensity to shift position sideways without notice.
Note carefully. Do not pay any attention whatsoever to the track sign. It lies damnedly.
Fatman time from here is a little over six hours, including a half hour for lunch. Even Carol, with lightning in her heels, takes a good four and a half.
Speaking of whom, who should emerge through the trees at this point...
We stop for a packs-off break beside the river. A discussion ensues about the Magdalen hut, whose name I hold is pronounced "maudlin" and which Carol insists is pronounced as spelled. I check this out later and conclude that my pronunciation holds only for the Oxford and Cambridge University Colleges of that name. All other uses employ the as-spelled pronunciation. I am big enough to admit my error.
It's back into the bush
but a new malevolent spirit is becoming apparent in this previously docile corner of the universe. Tree roots:
Maybe the soil around them on the path is softer or looser, more easily dislodged, than it has been, but from here on down you need to pay attention to where you step, and that gets on your wick after several hours.
Suddenly, Miranda spots a whole bunch of purple pouch fungus beside the track. Attention, attention. Such a totally unexpected colour in this green and brown world.
We're just a few metres inside the forest for the most part. The Boyle River is way across the other side of the valley, but the flats between tend to be boggy at the best of times and the track mostly avoids them.
Once in a while we have a change from tree roots.
In the wilderness, there are fewer resources for entertainment, and we have to make do with what we can find.
We continue along the path.
Hang on a minute. Things are getting just a bit negative along here.
Let's start with a swig of water and a snack. I've still got some dried banana here somewhere. Maybe lunch not too far from now? (For those interested in drying your own meals and fruit snacks, see the section entitled Food for Tramping.) That at least takes care of the internal barren places, and to a large extent the externals fall into place as well.
We stop for lunch about half an hour later. It's still a bit windy and there's a high overcast, so it's not exactly warm, but a hot cup of tea goes down extremely well.