United States of America
Huddart County Park, California
Once the 50kers jogged out of sight I left the marathoners and halfers to their butterflies and shortcutted through the trails to where I hoped my map reading skills had not deceived me was the confluence of all the trails, where the sunlight broke through the canopy in beams. I waited without a peep or sign of a soul, a solitary picnicker on a mossy throne. There was a cough in the distance and I jumped, thoughts of Magdalena foolishly swelling to the surface, but there was silence and then the sound of cars, the road must be nearby. Then finally the first of the marathoners founded by, fluorescent yellow he paused for directions before scrambling out of sight. Then a steady stream of runners, half marathoners down a distant trail, the marathoners metres from my perch. Hours passed.
Once the novelty of playing with shutter speed had worn off, a lady stumbled up the trail to divert me. She was a half marathoner completely off track, I redirected her and ran with her sending her back down the pink ribboned track. Then the fluoro marathoner came passed me again and double taking paused to tell me tale of woe. “Someone lied to me, they told me I had to go all the way up the mountain, I was going to be the champion, I was first you saw, now I am like 51st, this is devastating, I should have won, they lied to me, I was first, you saw!” I commiserated with him, but as he continued his run his stream of laments and shouts could be heard all the way down the hill until he was finally out of earshot. This was not to be the only mix-up of the day due to random interventions, luckily Dylan was not affected by these wicked woodland sprites.
Rested and fed, he told how there were some women with horses on the track who had been yelling at runners for scaring their horses, rather comically yelling at Dylan “what are you in a race or something?!” I overhead another group of half marathoners bemoaning the same women saying that one had threatened to sue them if she broke her neck, it was obviously the consensus that inexperienced riders, with untrained horses had no place on the trails on a designated and signposted race day. then all chaos broke loose, people started arriving at the finish line form the wrong direction having done 5 extra miles, the first female 50ker arrived from the right direction, but saying she had gotten lost because the ribbons were all on the same tree at one point and she had taken the wrong turn. The forest tricksters were at it again, someone had moved the ribbons, stories of misdirection and indignant horse riders coalesced and it became clear who the culprits were. The ribbons were fixed and rangers sent out to find some lost marathoners, confusion eased and everyone settled for a quiet afternoon picnic on the grass.
Pricey, but the vegan raspberry cheesecake is amazing!
Fisherman’s Wharf Hostel
Also pricey, but fun for the novelty of staying in bunks in a barracks. Filled to the brim with Melbourne Grammar students though, haven’t heard that accent for a while!