Mt Sorrow

The name of the hike should have tipped us off, but we decided to tackle it anyway. We were told that this is the only true hike in the area, since the rest are strips of boardwalk to accommodate the oldies. Surely the path would be clearly marked off the road, I thought, but it took several drive-bys before we picked out the wooden sign next to the barely-beaten path. We narrowed down its location after asking a weathered park ranger for help. I would guess his name to be Bazza MacGilligan or something of that lot.

Dana and I are pretty fit, despite our decadent farewell month, so we were confident we could handle the trail marked "Extremely Difficult, Above Average Fitness Only". Our footwear seemed to be good enough, me in my hiking/walking shoes, and Dana in her runners. We also brought plenty of water and fruit. I was a bit overloaded with camera equipment, however. The 7 kilometer hike was supposed to take 7 hours return. The view at the top of Mount Sorrow is supposed to be breathtaking, holding views of Cape Tribulation, the beaches and the Great Barrier Reef.

Our trek began at 9:30AM, observing the rule that one must not set off after 10AM lest he may turn into a macadamia nut. The hike immediately proved to be much more difficult than either one of us expected. Not more difficult than we thought we could handle, mind you. The plants in Daintree National Park are much more aggressive towards human passers-by than I am used to. I was expecting the multitude of spider webs that wrapped my face every minute, on the minute, but the barbed vines and razor-edged ferns surprised me. At one point, when I was hopping over a log, I think I was completely suspended by the plants... the thorns and hooks had taken hold of my shirt, backpack and even my shorts. Dana cut me loose with a machete.

There were warnings at the start of the hike, informing bushwalkers about cassowaries. Cassowaries are very large, flightless, colourful birds. They are about the size of an ostrich, but they have been known to get aggressive and attack people. Their claws could cut you open like something out of Jurassic Park. Actually, these animals date back MILLIONS OF YEARS. Cassowaries are generally shy, but if they think you're getting near their nest or threatening their chicks, they will charge. Dana was hoping that we would not see a cassowary on our outing, nor did she want to see any of the many feral pigs that inhabit the area. The pigs were introduced and do quite well in the rainforest, unfortunately for the rainforest. Besides eating lots of food that native animals rely on, as well as some of the animals themselves, they also root around in soil that's not meant for rooting, causing entire areas to be washed away when it rains. We passed about 20 of these wallow pits during the hikes.

It was much to our dismay that the adversaries for the trip were neither cassowaries nor pigs, but something much, much smaller: leeches. Just 20 minutes into the walk, my clothes were soaked through, but that's to be expected. Little scratches and nicks from the strangling figs and TAKEFOREVEREMS were not a worry. A fair bit of mud had somehow worked its way up my legs... so what? About an hour and a half into the adventure, I wiped a bit of dirt and branches off of my ankle, only to find that one piece of branch wouldn't budge. I plucked it off and it started wrangling in my fingers as blood trickled down into my sock. I shouted to Dana to check her ankles, and we each removed about 15-20 from ourselves and each other. Few had successfully taken hold and begun chewing away, but the experience of picking so many from your shoes, ankles, legs, and then fingers, arms and hands as they cling to you.... is a bit unnerving.

Dana decided to stick it out and continue up the mountain. We had made it quite far, and we guessed that the leeches had jumped on us at one point when we stopped for too long. For another half an hour we continued, picking at them every third step or so, cursing and trying to flick them off our fingers as the searched for a place to grab hold. This was difficult given the slipperiness and steepness of the terrain. Finally we decided to head back... only to meet two other climbers (the only other two on the path the entire day) who convinced us to continue on. We did. The path grew wetter, steeper and more leechful, if that's a word. It was after about another half an hour that we decided safety had to come first. Did we want to be those tourists who head back before reaching the top, or did we want to be those tourists who lose their footing and break their necks? The question wasn't as easy for me as it was for Dana, but we agreed to turn around.

On the way back, we passed a sign that we missed on the way up. We discovered that we were about 100-200 meters from the end before we turned around. We had nearly two more hours of downhill leech battling to contemplate that. It hard to explain the feeling of seeing a leech disappear into the eye-hole of your shoe. There isn't much to feel, physically, but it is not a pleasant emotional experience. Towards the bottom of the mountain, I would see the occasional leech make his way back out of my shoe, abandoning ship before I reached the car. That site made me feel more confident about our decision: even the leech bailed. And yes, I did remove one from under my shorts.


Leech-free photos here. There was a long stretch when I didn't bother with my camera.