Orienteering Australian 3-days Easter Hunt

The Australian 3-days Orienteering Championships (aka Easter 3-days), presents itself to the outside world as a high-level competition: selection event for World Championships, Junior Worlds, Bushrangers, World University and World Youth championships. It has World Ranking points for the elites. For those not young or old enough for all that, it emphasises that national rankings hang on these events. People assume it’s all about orienteering, and doing well.

This event involves skill and concentration. Already the boys are fighting, and the race is only just beginning.

However, the fact is that all this hype is just a cover to conceal the real event. If you talk to competitors like Justine Hobson or Sam Woolford, Liana Stubbs or Euan Best, they’ll go along with this game and lead you intentionally astray by talking about selection trials, World rankings and the like, indicating to their interlocutor no clue that the purpose of their presence is to participate in The Easter Sunday Egg Hunt (conducted by Tasmania).

The eager competitors fan out.

This event is so prestigious that it is an “invitation only” happening. And to throw people right off the scent of their real purpose at Easter, we had many participants in the Hunt who feigned interest in orienteering by producing some outstanding performances, such as Justine’s 1st in Women’s Elite in the Prologue, 2nd on Day 1, 3rd on Day 3; Liana’s 2nd W20E day 1 and 3rd Day 2; Euan Best’s 1st in M20E (ie, junior elite) in the prologue; Jett McCombe’s 3rd in M20E on Day 1; Sam Woolford’s 6th M21E in the Prologue; and Ella Hogg’s 4th Day 3 W20E.

Quick off the blocks, the small combatants are off and racing, their determined faces demonstrating the seriousness of this event

In younger, A grade classes, Sophie Hartmann put people off the scent by coming 1st in W16 A on days 1 and 2;  Sanda Halpin 3rd W16A day 2; Angus Hewitt won the short hard in the Prologue and came 3rd in M14A on Day 3. Isaac Buttler popped in a 4th, while younger sister Aria claimed two 4th places.

The normally smiling and pleasant Liana begins a fight with Mick, who possibly pushed in.

And don’t be put off by the diminutive size of little Abby and Walter, whom you see in the Hunt line-up. Walter came first M10A on all three days, and Abby produced a 2nd W10A on day 2. Had she been a boy, she would have finished 3rd, 1st and 2nd on each of the three days. That’s tough for a nine year old girl.

Rioting youths lose control in fierce competition.

So, a summary of the paragraphs above is that a huge degree of subterfuge was taking place, with competitors in the Easter Hunt posing as highly successful orienteers in the cover event. This is, in the end, not a bad thing, as these seemingly demure and pleasant young people gave way to cheating and fighting once the real race began.

A soldier brought in to quell the fighting points at a chief offender to sedate him.

Boys rolled on the ground, brawling; girls hid their stash in kangaroo pouches made from jumpers or t-shirts; clothing was torn, and the military was brought in to settle things down, in the form of bronze soldiers, who seemed to take very careful aim at chief offender, Euan Best. One could suspect that alcohol was also brought in if one looks carefully at the odd skipping behaviour of Kelvin and Sam, and Abby’s cheeks looked surprisingly full at times when participants had been told to eat later.

Showing off her pouch to the competition … but we hardly saw you getting any for yourself, Justine.
Sanda and Katy look satisfied with their winnings. Neither of them was spotted cheating or squabbling

Justine also had some interesting tactics that need to be examined to make sure she is not disqualified: she gave the impression of sauntering around eating a lollipop, not diving or fighting for eggs like the others, and yet at the end she produced a humungous kangaroo pouch of eggs to show off to the others. One suspects theft may be involved, especially as Liana, who dived and climbed quite busily and fiercely, appeared at the end to have no eggs at all, and was seen staring wistfully at Justine’s pouch.

Paired event
Posing as an octogenarian couple out for a Sunday stroll
Further more sedate scenes. competitors are getting tired perhaps

In part two of the hunt, competitors had to leave behind their booty from round one and link arms with a partner in order to retrieve more eggs. I find it hard to believe, but although the normal fighting and brawling took place, not one pair unlinked arms. I guess the penalty for breaking this rule was confiscation of eggs, as all pairs obeyed this one dictum.

Suspect skipping behaviour
The possibility of a ‘drunk and disorderly’ charge is being examined
Frustrated at being beaten in the egg division, further fighting broke out after the jury’s decision
And to give you an insight into the rigorous training that goes into all levels of this competition, here are two training shots to inspire you, should you want to participate next year.

 

Birthday wish mountain

My first-born daughter traditionally gives me a birthday wish to celebrate the fact that I was born. It’s always my favourite present, time and company being so much more important to me than things and possessions. My wish is always to sleep on a mountain.

Sunset climbing

Luckily, Gus was able to come too, so the three of us slept in a tent big enough for all. That was interesting, actually, as it was very cold up there – a thick layer of frost decorated the ground in the morning. I discovered that being one person in a good solo tent is warmer than being ‘piggy in the middle’ in a generous three-man one. The large tent had too much free space for the three of us to warm up as effectively.

Nearing the top

The wind raged all night, making the tent fly flap wildly, and with each blast, bouncing the rocks we used to stabilise the guys. It was not a restful night for any of us. However, as I ate my rehydrated, formerly dehydrated meal in the company of my family, listening to said wind and feeling the nip in the air, it was with total sincerity that I exclaimed: “Ah. This is the life.”

Sunset afterglow

As you can see from the pictures, sunset was magic. I had lugged my tripod up there for dawn shots, but the morning was solid grey. I was so exhausted from failing to sleep that I was actually pleased to be freed of the obligation of getting up to photograph.

On the way down

The wind had died down considerably after we had finished breakfast (my usual: porridge, coffee and biscuits), so packing up was no big trial. We somehow built up a big appetite on the descent, and started dreaming of lunch at the Possum Shed even before we were half way down. It did not disappoint. The trouble was, we had booked a Greek restaurant in town for all the family to enjoy dinner together, and I was going to have real trouble fitting that in.

Ossa and Pelion Plains 2024

This trip to Mts Ossa and Oakleigh was a trip in which I didn’t do anything I was supposed to do, but ended up doing wonderful alternatives, seeing some absolutely magnificent scenery (including the best wildflower display ever), and meeting heaps of incredibly nice people.

The forest within several kilometres of Pelion is superb.

So, for starters, I left on the “wrong” day. Originally, we were to leave on the Monday, so I had booked my dog into the kennel, and even delivered her, before I got news we were now to leave on the Tuesday (due to bad weather coming).  But my dog was already gone, and I had ants in my pants. I decided to just weather the weather and set off anyway, do my own thing for a day, and then meet the others. As it turned out, A and T had decided similarly, so three of us set out early.

Dawn after rain

A and T elected to sleep in Pelion hut, reached after a few hours’ walking, but I unctuously declared that I was bushwalking, so would sleep in my tent, not in a hut. Tent pitched, the rainforest in all directions from the hut thoroughly explored, and several streams followed, I went down to the hut to be sociable. There were some terrific people in the hut, and I had lots of pleasant and  interesting conversations until it was time to depart for bed, for which I had to wait for a break in the deluge.

All waterfalls in the area were pumping

The phrase “bucketing down” gained a new meaning that evening, as I waited for a pause in the tumultuous downpour to run the fair distance to my little isolated tent. I have never heard rain quite so loud, never seen sheets of rain quite so solid. Squadrons formed on the verandah  to enjoy (and many, to try to photograph) the wild display. Conversation while it was happening was impossible.

Wildflower garden. Now we’re talking.

That night the mother of all storms rolled in. The thunder was roaring like a sick lion, the noise ricocheting from mountain wall to mountain wall in the audience of mountains surrounding us. The rain continued to flood the plain. I considered the fact that I was somewhat vulnerable lying there under trees should one of them get struck by the lightning that accompanied the noise, but, well, that is nature: threatening. I was aware of the danger, but also philosophical about its potential to harm. I have enormous respect for nature, so was not lying there like a fool thinking it could never affect me, or that I could somehow control it. What would be would be. Emanuel Kant would call the experience of us tenters “sublime” as we were taken into the realm of fear and our own vulnerability, yet emerged safely out the other side. Those in the hut barely noticed what they were in the middle of. Most had ear plugs in, and were also locked away from the flashing lights of electrical power. I am glad to have experienced nature in such a wild frenzy.

Ossa summit area

Ossa summit area

During the night, whilst listening to the drama, I noticed that water was falling on my face. I reached for my torch and discovered it was sopping. In mild panic I rescued my beloved camera and gps device and put them as high as I could, but was not confident, as my face was still being splashed. I did my best. My sleeping bag was more than moist. An hour later, I notice that my pillow – that is, all my emergency dry clothes, in a drysack – were now also wet. Somehow I fell asleep anyway.

Donatia novae-zelandia was enthusiastically flowering in the summit area.

In the morning I awoke to the sight of a lake in my tent. Other plans I had made for this day to be spent at my will were now cancelled, as drying my stuff  in the hut became my primary objective. First, however, I wanted to do something for exercise, so went up Mt Oakleigh in the rain (third time). The lush, mossy myrtle forest was magnificent in the mist. On the top rocks, the wind was blowing furiously and it was very cold. I had achieved my daily quota of exercise, so that was fine, and now I could try to dry things out to prevent hypothermia that night. High resolves cancelled, I moved into the hut. (No photos of Oakleigh; that might have killed my camera).

Richea scoparia, Ossa

The next wave of Overland Trail walkers entered: another group of really nice people with new friends to be made. They were most solicitous about my gear, and many helped me turn and rearrange items to get them dry. We chatted around the heater meanwhile – hardly unpleasant. I was anxious to finish as quickly as possible, as these people were wet from the day as well, so we all needed to dry things. Amongst the smiling faces was a friend of my daughter’s from primary school in Canberra. It was fabulous to catch up with him and his family. I was really warmed to see so many children on the trail happily experiencing this initiation ceremony into distance bushwalking. They were happy, loved to tell me about the birds and other aspects of nature they had seen. I loved meeting them.

Richea scoparia on the descent. To Cathedral Mountain.

The people we should have met passed through, sopping and freezing. Not one of the three of us joined them in the planned further hour and a half’s walking. I needed to get dry before I could get wet again. My tent was still a swimming pool. Two days down. No previous plans fulfilled.

Richea scoparia on the descent. To Mt Oakleigh.

On day three, the others were climbing Proteus. My tent needed attention, and Proteus hadn’t thrilled me the first time I climbed, so I wasn’t going to cry over that lost opportunity. I scooped NINE cups of water out of the tent and hoped that by the time I got back from Mt Ossa, which I had decided to climb as a shorter alternative, it would be dry, and I could join the others for Pelion West.

Richea scoparia; Ossa descent. To Oakleigh

I have never seen such a varied wildflower display on Ossa. I have climbed it seven times now but never have I seen it quite this colourful. I was floating on the wave of its beauty. Striated emu wrens flitted from bushtop to bushtop, and other birds I couldn’t see (or identify by their chirps) called to me and teased me. Apart from their twinkles and tweets, the bush was deliciously silent. I played on the summit, and on anything I could find on the way down. I didn’t want to leave the flanks of this mountain today. Luckily for me, my new friends from the hut were climbing up as I came down, so every twenty or so paces, I got to have another chat with people whose faces I now knew. It was a very sociable descent. Back at the saddle, I was still reluctant to leave, so walked in the opposite direction to prolong the excursion into flower heaven. I got back to Pelion Hut for lunch after 4 pm, feeling just a little tired. I needed lunch, quickly followed by dinner. I was in no mood to carry out my plan of packing up and walking two hours to join the others. “I can do that early in the morning”, I said to myself.

Oakleigh dawn

That night (after a third wave of OT walkers had arrived and befriended me), all of us were  … er … “blessed”?.. with the booming thunder of a snorer, trying to compete with the recent storm. His noise lasted much longer, with a regularity that was utterly unnerving. I did a Lazarus, and moved my bed to the kitchen. In the morning I observed that four others had done likewise, We could still hear him through the closed door, of course, but at least the sound as a little muted.

Dawn Oakleigh

I was so lucky in the morning, as somebody bumped me, and I thus got to witness a superb dawn. The bumper later sheepishly apologised, but I pointed out that I would be forever grateful. If she hadn’t accidentally disturbed me, I would have missed that wonderful dawn. I had wanted to wake up for it, but was so tired after the many disturbances during the night that without her assistance, I would have missed it.

Melaleuca squamea had come into full profusion while I was watching rain. It likes the bog under Mt Pillinger.

Exhausted from lack of sleep, and perhaps having picked up a bug, I started feeling sick. I set out to join the others, as planned, but decided that I really didn’t have such a long day in me. It was time to get out. I turned around and returned to the hut. Yet another action that was not according to the orginal plan. My dog, picked up a day early, was thrilled at the unexpected day’s reprieve from the kennel. (It’s a great kennel, but she loves being home with me.) She sang with delight at my appearance, almost dislocating the shoulder of the carer fetching her.

Nelson Falls and more Oct 2024

As I drove towards Miena at the start of our adventure, the snow began to fall. The further I drove, the heavier it got. This was an exciting start to our adventure. But my mind asked: How cold would the forest be, bushbashing through new snow? Climbing steep slopes with ice-laden leaves dropping their bounty on our backs? Time would tell.

Snow, Central highlands

I unloaded my gear at the bunkhouse at Derwent Bridge, and cooked dinner, waiting for my friends. When they arrived, they brandished photos indicating that the snow was now settling. Tomorrow would be interesting. We huddled by the heater, exchanging news, storing up on warmth that we wouldn’t get on the morrow.

The next morning revealed a wondrous white world. I was so tempted to skip waterfall bagging and just photograph delicate rainforest leaves in the snow. They knew I would be like that, and kind of set a schedule that prevented me squandering the day on the “wrong” activity. Past fairyland we drove, with me aching to see such beauty but knowing I would regret dipping out on new waterfalls if I did.

Crossing the creek that our waterfalls would lie on, higher up.

The waterfalls we were to bag were just below the snow line, so at least we didn’t have to bother about little ice bombs dropping from the sky. This was actually my second attempt at these falls. On the first attempt, I had a broken hand, and got not much further than the start line.  I didn’t dare risk a re-break. Some forests you can do with a broken bone, but not this one. Denied excuses this time, here I was, dreading crossing the creek below the main falls at the start of a day where the car thermometer read a mere 2 degrees, but trying to put on a brave face anyway.  Luckily, the guys were no more eager than I was to get wet in such conditions, so we chose to do the three easier falls first, before tackling the mightily steep ones, where the slopes dropped at 89.9 degrees straight into the river below. Even the third of the easy ones would have some “interesting” moments.

Lower Nelson Step Falls in mossy glory

Such challenges were for later. At first we just enjoyed walking at a pace that allowed us to stay warm, passing through kangaroo ferns, Dicksonia antarctica  and mossy nothofagus. There were a few fallen trees to negotiate, but not too many, and very little actual bush bashing was required. Some short steep drops added interest to the mix. We even happened upon some out-of-season fungi. But we were on a mission, so I just privately called “Hello” en passant and forged ahead on our goal of finding waterfalls.

Lower Nelson Step Falls

Any reluctance to forgo spending time with snow or fungi was quickly forgotten once the first of our waterfalls was reached, about 45 mins after leaving the main Nelson track. Sometimes I forget how wonderful waterfalls can be.  At last I didn’t have to worry about time or holding anybody up. Out came Caedence’s tripod (and out came mine). Adrian is faster, using just his phone, but is totally happy to wait while we two do our thing with heavier, slower equipment. I take lots of shots with different f-stops and times, so I can determine my favourites later, while seeing the outcome in more detail on the computer.

Adrian and Caedence climbing between Lower and Middle Falls

The Middle Falls are sighted at last

The second waterfall was even more beautiful than the first. They felt terribly special, so hidden and yet so wonderful. They are part of the whole wider pleasure of needing a semi-challenging journey to get there; of not having the falls just being served on a ready-made NPWS dish. I like to have to work for my waterfalls. Stuff that comes too easily is not valued as highly. My brain and body both enjoy working for their outcomes. Anything too easy is boring.

Middle Nelson Step Falls up closer

More photos taken, more oohs and aahs uttered, and off we set for the most challenging of the climbs to the third and final fall in the series. Here the ground was very steep indeed, and long legs were required to make one of the climbs that offered a wide range of injuries if one missed and fell. Kindly, Adrian offered me a knee to place my foot on, and moral support by standing below me. (On the way back down, I used his shoulder to cut the journey short, as it were.) I would not have liked to have done that particular climb without a safety net below me, and amongst his many assets, Adrian is an excellent safety net.

Looking back down from the top of the Middle Falls

Climbing. It wasn’t all a walk in the park.

I had cut breakfast short so as not to hold the others up. It was nearing midday and this animal that needs constant feeding was wilting. Why did these guys who are twice my size not need feeding? Why and how was their breakfast so small? At last we stopped for a snack, but the others had finished and I was only half way through mine. I knew we were about to enter some seriously tricky territory. I didn’t want to foul them out by not being able to do it, and I also didn’t want to just wait in the forest in the cold for them to come back. I also didn’t want to get so deeply into difficulty that I couldn’t get out by myself. I had had a snack but was not satisfied. How many hours would this bit take? I decided to quit while I was ahead. If it was doable for me, we would come back some other time, but for now, they could be more daring without me and I wouldn’t have to feel guilty about dragging them backwards. I pulled the plug and went a got myself soup, fruit buns, juice and coffee to quiet the beastie within. It began to rain. I was not unhappy to head for home and collect Tessie a day earlier than expected. As I entered the kennel, I could hear her yelping with joy at the sound of my approach.

Upper Nelson Step Falls

Tasmanian Native Hen (Gallinula mortierii) plus chick on the way home

Orienteering Aus Champs NSW 2024

Running, reading and sorting things out

From the moment I heard that the nationals were in Armidale,  I was excited. We lived there for five years, and both our children were born there. Of course I wanted to go – but also, of course, I wanted to compete in the nationals anyway. The Australian Championships and the Australian 3-Days are the two big events of each year, and the two events that determine your national ranking. Quite apart from having the best races and competition, giving great excitement to those of us who love this sport, they are also the best chance to catch up with old friends from across the years, as they cast the biggest and best net.

Eastern rosella. I managed to shoot quite a few birds in between racing

Eastern rosella

I had been careless in two of the three days last Easter, and had paid a big price, being excessively lucky to finish on the podium. I was thus pretty focussed with regard to the nationals, wanting to redeem my lost self-esteem and prove to myself that I could do nice, clean races again. Winning would be nice. However, right at the last minute w.r.t entires, my old friend-but-competition-foe from the 1980s, with whom I have had countless exciting experiences, fun shared times on national squads, teams and training camps, and endless races, Jenny Bourne, entered our age class. Jenny is a force to be reckoned with. She has won four Australian elite titles, and four Australian 3-day elite titles, as well as at least one (if not more – I can’t find out in google) World Masters title in orienteering. I have won many World Masters titles, but they are in sports other than orienteering, and that’s what we were to race in.

After racing, it was fun to spend time on my friends’ farm

Farm fun. The kids are obviously exhausted after racing.

Given that I thought winning would be nice, I thought I’d have a much easier time of it if I ran an age class younger than my own (yes, that’s how good she is; and yes, my inkling was correct when I compare times). I toyed with that idea for a few seconds, but decided that was the coward’s way out. So, I stayed where I was. It was gong to be a battle royal, and I would only do well if I ran my very, very best race, and even then, Jenny would probably beat me. Also in our age class was another friend from competitions in the 80’s, Sue Key, just back from getting in the A-finals of the World Masters. (The Key family is the “Jess Fox” family of orienteering.) Yes, the same old three that battled it out forty years ago were to repeat the encounter this year. Not surprisingly, we rather dominated the podium when medals were being handed out. I find it absolutely wonderful that three of the top elites from the 1980s are still competing, albeit now in age class. (Others from teams of that era are also competing, but in younger age classes). Thus I caught up with heaps of these friends. It’s such fun to see them again. Very, very few of us have dropped out.

Getting painted up for the highlight of ASOC: the relays.

Sprints were conducted on campuses in Armidale (TAS and UNE). The main bush races were on a private property called Glenburnie. This setting was magical in extremis, especially for a granite freak like me. I don’t quite know why, but I have a real love affair with huge granite boulders. Looking at the tiny tots (1-10 year olds) crawling up and down boulders twenty times their height, I can see other granite freaks in the making. Controls tended to be hiding behind these boulders. After the race we all stood or sat around, eating, chatting, waiting for other family members to finish, and just enjoying the scene of open eucalypt forest littered with shapely giants of soft grey.

Having fun on the boulders after racing

As with other big events in Orienteering, the purpose of doing races is only part of the story. Nonetheless, with the nationals, if you do all the events, you complete seven long-distance races, four of which you really care about, in nine days. Somehow, it gets done.

Mornings were often misty. I had fun photographing while the others slept.

I never tire of seeing galahs

There were over 800 competitors, not all of whom did that many races, but most did, so that’s a mighty number of fit people in this sport. (Competitors’ ages range from those in W10, the youngest of which are usually 7 or 8, to the oldest, the cluster of people racing M or W85. They are aged between 85 and 90. Veritable gangs of M/W10N also go around courses, but with their parents to guide them; N stands for Novice. They still have their L-plates on, and some seem only recently to have left nappies behind. This category is not competitive, and everybody gets a prize [but not a prized medal].) The main races take part on the two bookend weekends. The three mid-week races comprise the ASOC (Australian Schools Orienteering Championships) and, for those of us not young enough to be on our state school team (or not old enough in other cases), there is a different event, this year called the Thunderbolt Classic. I always treat the mid-week races as training runs. The weekend races are what count. However, even so, all are distance races.

ASOC relays. They’re off. No, they can’t just follow. Nobody knows who is on their course … and then the courses divide anyway.

This year was little Abby’s first experience of the nationals, and it was Gus’s first year on the state team. How would eight-year-old Abby cope (a) without her mum, and (b) racing that often? She was perfect on both counts. All the kids were. The four in our group ( 3 x 8-year olds and 1 x 9) all raced each event and raced well. And for après-O they more than often ran up boulders or ran around paddocks. We visited a few watery places, but we also had times doing quieter craft work, playing cards or reading books.

Competing.

The last runner heads for the finish of the junior girls’ relay, followed by the state flag and her delighted team mates.

Gus was thrilled to make the team, and he told me he had a very happy time. The teams consist mostly of high-school students in two divisions: under 16, and over, and they do all the sorts of things that over-excited clusters of teenagers do (eg, seeing which state can fit the most team members into a telephone booth). A big highlight seems to be painting their faces with their state colours on the relay day – warriors preparing for war.

My first ever sighting of a Red-rumped parrot

Enthusiastic Crimson rosellas around the feed dish

And now it is all over. I had 930 photos to process, and am relieved to have finished. I have almost an equal number of birdie shots as of orienteering. Many competitors report having post-O depression once the party is over. Little kids and big ones wave to their friends: “Bye; see you at Easter”, and they start preparing and training for the next important event. My legs are still pretty flat, but after two days’ rest, I am back, training for Easter, waiting for the next exciting battle with Jenny. Jenny, Sue and I will in all probability be the Aus team for our age group in the coming Oceania Championships. We are looking forward to that!