It seems normal now to get up at 5am, and we move efficiently around the house, doing what we need to do to get ready and depart at daybreak.  Today, day hadn’t quite broken, thanks to a heavy fog that was hanging in the valleys, severely reducing visibility.  Once we climbed up to the plateau, it dispersed, and we had another clear blue sky and warm temperatures.

Our destination was Maidenwell, south of Nanango.  We were on another farm property.  The rocks here were huge, and they were interspersed with grass trees, their emerald needles glistening in the sunlight.  The arena was spectacular, and we could see at least half a dozen potential final controls, dotted about an enormous ampitheatre-like broad gully and the surrounding forested slopes.

I’ve learned that the more inviting the terrain looks from the arena, the less likely it is to actually live up to expectation.  Straight out of the start triangle, we were on very uneven and boggy ground, the grass longer and thicker than either of the last two days (how much does it grow overnight? I wondered).  I found it difficult to move through, and just plodded slowly along, trying not to fall over hidden rocks or logs, twist my foot in a hole, or get tangled up in the grass.  It took a lot of concentration.  Luckily the rock features were obvious, being so big.

The first control was quite close to the start.  The control was well hidden from view, on the steeper side of the slope.  It quicky became clear that the course setter wasn’t intending to give away the locations, and was quite happy for those of us on courses meant for the oldest competitors, to scramble in and out in order to reach the flags.  This became a source of real frustration, when coupled with the difficult going underfoot. You’ll see on the map that there is a lot more green and hardly any yellow.

No 2 was on a 5 metre boulder which I spotted from about 300 metres away.  But it seemed to take forever to get there, wading through hip high grass, and brushing aside the spiky tips of the grass trees.  It was going to be that sort of day.  There was nothing to be done other than press on, with teeth gritted.

None of the navigation was difficult.  Control 5 was really silly – the description was “boulder cluster”.  It was very easy to find the cluster, but no control appeared.  The course setter had again placed it on the steep side where the ground fell away, and had buried it as close in to the rock as possible.  I felt sorry for the 75 and 80 year olds who had to clamber down to it.

Eventually I reached what I thought was the last control – thankfully out of the rocky slopes and thick vegetation, and in a large open clearing.  Problem was, it wasn’t actually my control at all; I just wanted it to be, but wishing it so didn’t make it happen.  My control was back up in the rocks (of course), which I thought was rather pointless, having already spent a considerable amount of time in there already.  Grumbling, I hunted round in the wrong rocky bit – my only significant error of the course.  But I’d been so slow anyway, it barely mattered.  It was a huge relief to finish, and get out of there.

A few of the other women in my age class had noticed me using a walking pole, and they were checking in on me to make sure I was OK, which I thought was really nice.  We swapped our war stories, knowing we would meet up again in 6 months time in Victoria.

Pete had an even more unfortunate time, scraping a lot of flesh from his forearm.  Luckily he was near the end of his course, but when I returned he was sporting a rather impressive bandage.  As a result, we abandoned thoughts of visiting the nearby Bunya Mountains, and went in search of an open pharmacy – no mean feat on Easter Monday.  We ended up in Kingaroy, which gave us the chance to have a quick look at the largest town in the area.  It didn’t exactly inspire us to return, but then I guess its not a tourist town.  Apart from the supermarket, which was very busy with people grabbing post-Easter bargains, it was dead quiet, with many stores permanently closed.

One more long drive back via the now-familiar roads to Somerset Dam.  It has been a LOT of driving, and we are looking forward to the Sprints on the Gold Coast, where everything is 10-20 minutes away rather than 2 hours.  And we won’t be thrashing through all that grass! We also have a much-needed sleep in tomorrow morning.