The Legend 2025

 What is adventure racing?

An adventure race is when two to four people decide they want to ‘challenge themselves’ and pay eye-watering sums of money to a race organiser who will facilitate their adventure. It says ‘race’ on the tin, but unless you’re at the pointy end it would more appropriately be called ‘survival’ as merely making it to the finish line, having completed the entire course, is an achievement. In return for their handsome bounty the race organiser sets the course (around 500 - 600 km) plans where to put the checkpoints (CP - like orienteering flags with hole punches to prove you have been there), provide basic sit-on-top kayaks, negotiates with a bazillion land managers for permits, transports racer’s gear between transition areas (TA), makes the maps, and magics up some staff who don’t mind camping out at TAs for up to 6 days and remaining cheerful. In retrospect, the entry fee seems unlikely to cover all of this. The core disciplines are trekking, mountain biking and kayaking, but others may have additional ones like packrafting. Racers are given maps just before the start with CPs and TAs to navigate to using a compass, and they must plan the route which they believe will be the fastest. 

The Legend

My husband I met in 2016 during this race in its previous iteration of XPD. It was the World Championships that year and we were placed on a team together which was the most extreme first date ever. Fast forward to 2025, we got married four months ago and, and since the race was on our doorstep outside Hobart, we thought it would make a fitting ‘honeymoon’.

Leg 1 - Huon River Kayak, Huonville to Franklin, 15km, 3 hours

We ended up quite well on this river paddle despite being absolutely crap at paddling. We made a late course change to avoid going all the way around the bottom of an island to TA. We joined other teams, cutting across the reeds by carrying and pushing our boat whilst falling into the marsh and struggling to get up. I'm unsure if this gained us any time but we are willing to go to great lengths to not be in the kayak.

Short cut? Pushing the boats through the reeds.

Leg 2 - Bike, Franklin to Hartz Peak Carpark, 51km (1756m ascent), 4h 45m.

After a brisk TA we started the relentless grinding climb up to Hartz Peak. We love riding but we did not love this climb. We took it in chunks and tried to pace ourselves for the trek at the top. Lots of supporters from the local clinic where John works were out to wish us well. Apologies to the lady I flashed while getting changed but it’s really just par for the course in AR.

Leg 3 - Trek, Hartz Peak rogaine, 9km (470m ascent) 2h 45m

The majority of the CPs are numbers which must be collected in order. But there may be intermittent rogaine legs where CPs are letters, and can be collected in any order, with teams picking the best route to attack the CP from. This was one of the few legs with off-track CPs. The Tasmanian scrub is so thick there are few opportunities to get off track. If you push through the bush here, it pushes back. John did well navigating through this one and we finished quite quickly. Some teams had hair-raising experiences with moving rocks and boulders though, with one guy losing the top of his thumb to a sliding slab, and needing to have it reattached in the local hospital. It is a reminder that this is definitely NOT a controlled environment. 

Leg 4 - Bike, Hartz Peak to Tahune, 30km (355m ascent), 1h 45m

It was a nice feeling whizzing back down the enormous climb and on to Tahune. The first night fell and we donned the lights and were on the lookout for wildlife which tends to jump out in front of you and take out your wheel. We didn’t see much until we arrived at the Tahune airwalk office and saw some delightful spotted quolls. It’s so rare to see these so it’s always so special when they appear. We were initially puzzled by the road end and a closed gate, until we saw the event flag beyond the gate and found the lock was actually open. As we approached TA we were given a map for two ‘bonus’ CPs which were on the airwalk itself. These would have been spectacular during the day but all we saw was the metal walkway before heading back to TA for the night paddle.

Leg 5 - Paddle, Tahune to Judbury, 26km, 6 hours

On most races I’ve been in, any white-water paddling was either done early in the race in daylight, or was ‘dark zoned’ forcing teams to camp on the bank until the sun rose. But these were ‘easy’ rivers apparently - Grades 1-2 with one grade 3 rapid which could be portaged. To the non-paddler giving me gradings is like telling me how many knots the wind is blowing - totally meaningless. But the red race mist had fallen so in the river we went, with our borrowed paddling cags and a new 1200 lumen waterproof headlamp I recently bought. Even with this light it was very difficult to see a way through the rapids before we were already in them. It was after midnight when we first went upside down in the river. It was a bit of a shock, as we had assumed that the boats were pretty stable despite the white water. The paddling gear I had wasn’t waterproof for actual swimming so I got quite wet, but was still quite warm and full of adrenaline. Our gear managed to stay attached to the boat with bungee cords and John had made an excellent Temu purchase of some paddle leashes so they didn’t float down the river without us. Sadly, our comfortable gel padded kayak seats were lost though, leaving us to contemplate hours of discomfort on the later paddle legs. We fell in again later on what seemed like an easy section. Choosing to portage the grade 3 rapid we had a lot of difficulty carrying our boat over the rocks. Even once we took our gear off and carried it separately, it seemed extraordinarily heavy. Pulling up at the pontoon in TA, we were told we had to carry our boat up to the shed. This involved walking up a very slippery metal ramp which I had to grab on to the handrails just to navigate, sans boat. This didn’t seem possible until John realised our boat had a hole in it and spent 5 minutes emptying water out of the bung hole. Either, we were unlucky to get one with a hole, or, we had actually punctured the boat on our many bumps into river rocks. Oops - sorry Chris. Getting fully changed into dry clothes for the next leg, we then entered a fully heated hut and were offered hot chocolate. I cannot stress how much this is the exception in adventure racing, but it was very welcome after such a cold paddle. It was at this point we were given the maps for the rest of the course, which we then had to sit and mark up with our route. It was quite difficult to think and we spent too long enjoying the warmth while other teams headed out, but eventually we set out on the long trek leg before sunrise.

Leg 6 - Trek, Judbury to Styx Forest, 86km (2470m ascent), 27h 30m

This was another rogaine leg so CPs could be collected in any order. Also, there were 14 CPs total but we only needed to choose 10 to get. This leaves some room for strategy. We were with the leading teams at this point and feeling relatively good given the missed night of sleep. During racing I am always slightly hotter or colder than I’d prefer. Due to the necessity to carry gear in a backpack, and wear your race bib outside of all your clothing, doing the ‘jacket on jacket off’ routine wastes a lot of time. For teams who hope to win, this would be kept to a minimum by suffering through the freezing downhill so you don’t overheat on the next uphill. And by coordinating stoppages, like making the decision for everyone to get their lights out and mounted at the same time. Anything you need to access regularly would be kept in small pockets on the outside of your pack so that you or a team member can access it without having to take a pack off. We did this well at the start of the race, but were definitely faffing about by day 2. I could hear Gary, our previous team captain, yelling in my ears “Stop faffing”. At dawn John got an attack of the sleepies where he just couldn’t keep his eyes open. He walked, eyes closed, while holding my backpack for a while, until we stopped for a 20 minute power nap. It was too cold for me to sleep but I enjoyed the sun coming up on the next day. Getting to CP ‘S’, our plan was to ‘punch through’ the bush to R. But due to the density of the scrub, it was very clear that this would be both unpleasant and perhaps impossible. A quick route change was made where we abandoned any CPs involving being off-track, collected on track marks, and went the long way around on Styx road. This did require a leap of faith as our route involved a gap between two maps. We were reasonably sure the roads met up and matched, but there ended up being a bit more missing from the maps than planned. Some of the teams had an absolute nightmare bashing around in the scrub trying to take the most direct line. However the long flat walk along Styx road to the final CPs felt like a death march. Having so little to stimulate our brains through our second night without proper sleep, we were both having microsleeps on our feet and walking into each other and off-track. Our 90 minute sleep during the day had not been that restful. Tip: don’t sleep near a creek as this is where the mosquitoes live. We had a few 20 minute naps in the forest at night. It is so interesting how much warmer it is in the trees than it is on the fireroad. It was difficult to sleep thinking of all the creepy crawlies which could be running over me. We were so relieved to find a fire going in the remote TA at the end of 27 hours of trekking, and we got offered some more hot chocolate. We went from feeling unsure we would be able to ride our bikes safely to being full of energy when the sun came up. Fatigue is a very subjective thing and small things like warmth, food and daylight can be enough to push it down, for a while.

Leg 7 - Bike, Styx forest to Lake Pedder 60km (1100m ascent), 7 hours

After our miraculous recovery from the trek, we headed out on bikes toward Lake Pedder. The Mueller road climbs were steep but still just manageable in our easiest 12 speed gearing. John had developed some hot-spots on his feet so we stopped just short of the intersection of the dirt road with the bitumen of Scott’s Peak road. John laid down with his feet up hill to see if this alleviated the pain. I used this opportunity to reapply chamois cream to my badly chaffed crotch. There was a nice breeze blowing so I just stood there with my bike shorts around my knees and let the air do its thing. And of course this was the exact moment a worker in high viz just HAD to pull up to the gate to access this remote road. John quickly scrambled to avoid being run over and I hurriedly pulled my knicks up. The guy drove up to us, wound the window down and asked “are you guys OK?”. “Just tired” we replied, which made no sense in the context of what he’d seen but he drove off, with a good story for his mates at smoko break. 

I’d previously made an error by leaving the CP punch card in my bike shorts at a previous TA so we’d been taking photos of each CP to prove we had been there. Not usually being shouldered with such responsibility I kept forgetting I had it and wasn’t as careful as I should have been. It ended up falling out on this leg due to a partially closed zip pocket on my shorts. I was furious with myself and rode several kilometres back to see if it was still lying on the road. Alas, the road is trafficked by some enormous trucks and such a flimsy piece of paper wouldn’t stay put in a slight breeze. We learned a valuable lesson: don’t give Jodie the punch card. The CP descriptions were also on the back of the card which made finding them more difficult. We went back to taking photos of every CP and made our way to TA. By this time the pain in John’s feet was immense and he had tears in his eyes as he rode straight to the lake to soak them and hopefully reduce the swelling.

Leg 8 - Kayak, Lake Pedder 36km (700m ascent for hill climbs), 18 hours

This was the leg all non-kayakers were dreading. 50km on a lake, with at least some in the cold of night. This day was also John’s birthday and he got the present he really wanted - a shortened paddle leg. The original course was deemed ‘too epic’ and would have teams out well past cut-off time. We paddled out on the most glorious day - warm, cloudless blue sky, no wind. Far from being our worst leg it became our favourite - while the sun was up, at least. Another rogaine leg, we had to get 6 CPs at least, but we got up to 8 hours time bonus for getting all 8. This included two on the top of Mt Solitary and Scott’s Peak. We chose to go all in and so knocked off the mountain-top CPs first. Being on top of Solitary for sunset was the most special part of the event. Surrounded by the significant mountains of the South-west we could scarcely believe we hadn’t done this before. Arriving back at the boats just as it was getting dark we thought paddling along the shore at night would be relatively easy to get the rest of the CPs. 

At no time in the past 8 years have I said to John “Hey let's go out on the kayak tonight and try to navigate in the dark”. The situation was not helped by there being no moon and the night so inky black that we couldn't even see the outline of the mountains to get our bearings. It turns out we missed one optional CP by about 100m. But the real trouble started as we rounded a headland to go back to TA and a strong westerly wind had waves breaking over the boat. Sitting on the kayak was like riding a bucking horse. With the sad realisation that the camping gear we had packed back at TA was out of reach, we got changed into dry gear, made a nest in some long grass, and climbed into our emergency space blankets to wait for sunrise. Whilst not exactly luxury, it was comfortable enough for us to oversleep, and wake up to a beautiful morning on the lake.

Who needs a honeymoon hotel when you have button grass?

Losing so much time we started to really lag in our transitions. We remarked that we didn’t really mind as we had met some lovely friendly people who we wouldn’t have had the opportunity to engage with if we had rushed more. And this was our last adventure race (I now have John on video confirming this!) so we should enjoy it and soak up the atmosphere. Going into another our third long night on the bike we were just hoping to finish the race and without a major relationship blow up. I won’t say there weren’t tense moments. But it was easy to chalk them up to being tired or hungry. I think we were far more generous to each other’s moods which is often not the case in everyday life. Because telling your partner to “snap out of it” always brings relationship harmony, right?

Leg 9 - Bike, Lake Pedder to Bushy Park 133km (2170m ascent), 21 hours

Known as ‘the long bike’ we were relatively in our element. Riding along firetrails at night is the perfect way to fill your Tasmanian animal bingo card. We saw wombats and the first Tasmanian Devil I had ever seen in the wild. We had our lowlight of the entire race when we opted for an alternative route called Tim’s track, after receiving some local information that the main route, Cook’s track, was in appalling condition for riding. Tim’s track started fine - a little narrow for riding so having to negotiate spiky shrubs hitting our knuckles. But the connector Adamsfield track was just literally not there anymore. The trees blocking the track were so big that I had to hand my bike UP to John to carry over them. The trail got more faint but we were convinced we were still on it. Eventually we could no longer see it and did not really know where we were or how to get back. I can’t really describe the full extent of the badness here. It was thick rainforest, 7 foot high ferns and lots and lots of large fallen trees - and we had bikes. We called a halt to reconsider our options, ate a can of rice cream, and then decided to take a bearing for a road further up the hill which was a) hopefully there, and b) joined back on to Cook’s track. We were moving at maybe 500m every hour for 2.5 hours. John was flattening the ferns and trying not to break his leg walking on the rotten logs which formed the ground. My job was to ferry the bikes individually up to where John was making progress. 

One of the 'easier' parts of Adamsfield Track.

After burning a lot of energy we got back on track. The CP right inside the Junee Caves was a nice touch and John chivalrously got it so I could keep my shoes dry. I thought doing this leg at night would spare us from the logging trucks which frequent the forestry road. I absolutely did not know that loggers work at 2am and we were occasionally forced into a ditch to avoid being squashed by a truck. It was day 4 by this stage and we were well and truly sick of all our race food. Rolling into Maydena at 9pm we were very surprised to find Maydena Eats still open and serving food, and we were ever, ever so grateful. We warned the staff not to get too close to us as it had been quite some time since we had seen a shower. After downing some Coke and two of Maydena’s finest burgers and chips we rode on to the next TA and into our fourth night on course.

Leg 10 - Paddle, Bushy Park to New Norfolk 24km, 6 hours

Getting into TA a few hours before dawn, we did not fancy another paddle/swim in the dark, and this river had some serious rapids on it. I bundled up in my space blanket for another night and napped on the concrete floor in a shed. I am like the princess and the pea at home, but during races I am always surprised at where I can sleep. Once it was light, we got in the river for the final time. In the daylight, rapids are actually fun. We made the hectic ones and then fell out on an easier section after getting caught on a log. I didn’t even care and was happy floating down the river before John started yelling at me to get back in the boat. The next TA was actual luxury and we took up the offer of a hot shower before the final ride. It was our first taste of civilisation for days and, lacking towels, we dried ourselves under the hand drier in some sort of ‘full body bidet’ experience. 

Leg 11 - Bike, New Norfolk to Huonville 62km (1620m ascent), 6h 30m

We were back on home turf now and were familiar with the tracks for the final leg. This was unfortunate because we knew the Eastwest track was horrible and we do try to avoid riding it at all costs. The leading teams had taken the original climb up to the Eastwest but were turned away by the private landowner who knew nothing about the race. A quick course change later and we were going up Jeffrey’s track which was quite nice. It was so relaxing that John fell asleep while riding and woke up looking over a cliff. After a 20 minute nap while laying in a ditch on our packs we were on our way to more suffering. The Eastwest track is meant for 4WD access, not riding. It has steep pinches made harder by a surface of loose rocks - some small and some the size of babies' heads. This means a lot of walking uphill in bike shoes, which is everyone's least favourite thing. Many teams abandoned their bikes to walk the final pitch to the start of the Collins Bonnet track. But I was adamant we were riding all the way down and grunted and groaned my bike up the hill. A quick selfie at the top of Collins Bonnet before we bombed it all the way down to Crabtree.

We had to stop halfway down to shake our hands out from the fast rough track and aggressive braking. The last time I did this descent was when we were bike packing and I had a saddle bag getting all up in my business, so making full use of the dropper post was a welcome change. We crossed the line just on sunset and were treated to ginger beer and hot meat pies.

The End (107h 39m)

When Covid stopped all racing in 2020, I had drawn a line under it for myself as well. I didn’t feel there was anything I had left to do to demonstrate my skill at suffering. Some people can sing and others can build things. When your special skill is being able to fight pain and fatigue you end up in endurance sports. They have brought me so many experiences, friends and joy, but once you have no ‘why’ they can just be a bit miserable. It was only during the race that I understood John’s ‘why’. Since 2019 he has had a series of medical issues - stroke, open heart surgery, shoulder, wrist and Achilles surgeries, and had been hit by a car with 5 spinal fractures. He wanted one last long race to prove he had physically recovered from all the setbacks. I’m glad my special skill of suffering meant I could share that with him, and it certainly gave me a reason to keep pushing through the difficult times. 

As usual I have a new appreciation for hot showers, freshly cooked food and a warm comfortable bed. After doing something extremely physically difficult, I have a different perspective on the truly hard things in life. It is the most amazing feeling having no phone for 5 days. No email, no news, no constantly being fire-hosed with information and things which demand my attention. We were surprised the pope was still alive when we finished. You want to know what the difficult things in life are? Try dealing with HR when your pay is incorrect. Or any contact with any government bureaucracy. These feel like the very difficult things that want to make you want to claw your own eyes out in frustration. What about deciding what you want to cook over an entire week and then wandering around the store looking for niche ingredients you’ll never use again? When your only concerns are keeping warm, eating, and moving, things get really simple. Many of the things we do each day are perhaps not difficult, but they are not simple, and this feels hard. Life feels hard because it is full of complex choices which we feel we must weigh. Some of these choices are needlessly complex and our decisions arbitrary, but for some reason they don’t feel this way. It feels like not ordering the steak will retrospectively actually affect our enjoyment of a significant occasion. There is a difference between difficult and frustrating. Frustrating is when your efforts to complete something which should be easy on the face of it, are obstructed for obscure reasons. Sometimes doing 530 kms on very little sleep seems easy, and makes more sense, than a lot of what I do, day to day. I expect some other people may feel this way, but there doesn’t seem to be an obvious solution to divorce ourselves from the noise of the modern world, which doesn’t leave us sleeping in the dirt.

Dishonesty Continues To Stoke Controversy In Women's Sport.

 A furore has erupted around a biologically male boxer being permitted to compete in the female category at the Olympics. There are questions around whether it is a wise idea to let a male punch a female in the face in the name of ‘competition’. I have no strong feelings around fairness in boxing and think a more pertinent question is whether any sport should involve punching another person in the face. But the situation of men in women’s sport isn’t confined to boxing and has become a more pressing issue as more sports are affected. In this case, it is not a man who has declared himself a trans-woman. The athlete in question has a disorder of sexual development (DSD) which affects the development of male genitalia in the foetus and results in a baby being born which either has ambiguous genitalia, or which appears to be a female. In developed countries the condition is often investigated at birth, however in underdeveloped countries without access to medical specialists, the children can grow up believing they are girls. Their true sex is often not suspected until they reach puberty when the high levels of testosterone their gonads produce make them stronger and more masculinised than their female peers. 

Males with 5α-Reductase 2 deficiency who are allowed to compete with females dominate the sport due to male-equivalent levels of testosterone. Caster Semenya is the most notable athlete with this condition and won the women’s 800m gold medal at the 2016 Olympics. What is less known is that both the silver and bronze medallists in that event are also males who have DSD. Results such as this have led to international sports bodies preventing these athletes from competing in certain events where they would have an extreme advantage, or competing at all. The boxer in question was disqualified from international competition for failing two gender tests, in that the tests revealed an XY chromosome. The Y chromosome designates a male, particularly one which contains the sex determining region Y gene (SRY). These men are able to father children with sperm from their internal testes, something a female is unable to do as they don’t produce sperm.

Females with DSD can also have increased testosterone levels, although they don’t approach male range. Those with congenital adrenal hyperplasia (CAH) are genetically female, but can have ambiguous genitalia when born due to exposure to higher levels of androgens. They can be more masculinised, but also suffer other health problems such as obesity, cardiovascular disease, polycystic ovarian syndrome and infertility. While they may have some advantages from higher androgen levels, they may also suffer disadvantages due to their cortisol deficiency.  More severe types of this condition lead to life threatening electrolyte imbalance and require supplementation with synthetic cortisone. Taking of cortisone is generally banned for athletes, however those with CAH can receive an exemption to allow them to compete. This raises the question of the use of therapeutic use exemptions (TUEs) in athletes, not just in sex disorders, but in other conditions which many athletes suffer from.

Many would argue the pinnacle of ultra-distance trail running is Ultra Trail Mont Blanc. It is very difficult to qualify and then apply for a lottery entry to reach the start line of the brutal 171m race through the French mountains. In an effort to ensure clean sport, UTMB and other trail races adopted the Quartz ‘athlete wellness’ regulations which banned everything on the world anti-doping agency (WADA) list, as well as commonly permitted medications like paracetamol, ibuprofen and asthma inhalers. While some decried the exclusion of athletes with medical conditions, I did wonder if this had validity. Most athletes don’t have asthma. Should people with asthma be permitted to ‘level the playing field’ by using salbutamol? Isn’t improving breathing a performance enhancement in an athlete if their ‘natural’ level of ability is compromised? What do we mean by ‘cheating’ when so many of the medications we use day to day are designed to enhance our performance?

As someone who has benefited greatly from the separation of sport into male and female categories, I have a natural bias to supporting that status quo. Biological sex is not a genetic mutation. Women make up more than 50% of the population, so creating this separate category affords equality of opportunity to a large portion of society. Those who are intersex or transgender are a very small proportion who have an outsized impact on women when they are permitted to compete in the female category. If the purpose of women’s sport is primarily to have a category for women, my view is that we cannot allow men to compete, period. Even those with conditions which make them uncompetitive in the men’s category. They merely join the majority of men whose genes make them unlikely to reach the pinnacle of sport. However, I think we must also allow athletes, in their correct sex categories, to compete as they are, unassisted by exogenous substances of any type. Introducing a nebulous value such as ‘fairness’ may lead to arbitrary biological thresholds which are exceeded by biological women, but satisfied by biological men through suppression. Before we start getting into a heated discussion of ‘real’ versus ‘fake’ women, I have said it before but women are NOT men with low testosterone. Simultaneously, women with high testosterone are ‘real’ women if they have a XX chromosome, and I don’t believe they should be made to artificially lower their levels to make them ‘normal’ women. 

Despite some misunderstandings by the public, I don’t believe any of the controversial athletes in question have been shown to be women with high testosterone. Nor have I been able to find any examples of exceptional biologically female athletes with DSD and high androgens. If someone has an example of such an athlete, please let me know. Every single athlete which has been subject to this controversy has been a biological man with DSD who has competed against women. The arguments regarding the Algerian boxer have been framed as differences in power and the danger to the female athletes. But would people be happy to see a ‘real’ woman, who is physically superior due to training or a natural androgen elevation, breaking the nose of another woman in competition? How does this change the outcome or the ‘fairness’? What if the male boxer had won on a close points decision? Would this have made it OK? Some part of me wonders whether the public are just not ready to see women physically whaling on each other. Although the growing popularity of women’s MMA possibly rebuts that notion. I recall watching Rhonda Rousey lose her title, with a kick to the head, with my 13 year old daughter who was enthralled with her at the time. While I agree that the male boxer should not be fighting a female, it is not for the same reasons that people are arguing. It’s because I value diversity in women’s sport, as long as the athletes are female. I believe the value of ‘fairness’ should apply across the board, and that the granting of ‘exemptions’ for athletes to fit into a ‘normal’ box has been an incredibly slippery slope. As Charlie Munger said “show me the incentives and I’ll show you the outcome”. 

Back in the days when drug taking was rife in cycling, a 50% haematocrit threshold was set by the federation to prevent rampant abuse of EPO. Those who were cheating ensured their levels were close to the acceptable threshold. While those who had naturally high haematocrit were unfairly discriminated against. Whenever targets are set, people will strive to game the system to fit within them. Newer technologies aim to track athlete values over time and also directly detect exogenous EPO. Similarly with biological sex, where we previously used indirect methods to identify a person as male or female, we are now able to use more advanced genetic methods to detect a person’s actual sex, which is leading to some athletes being made ineligible for women’s sport. 

While it pains me to say, it is difficult to mount a strong argument for the existence of a women’s category in sport. The athletes are slower and less powerful than men, on average, which is why they are separate. Is there an argument for having only one category which includes everyone? If so, we would never see a woman on the podium. And nor would we see transgender women or male athletes with DSD. Which is probably why they are not arguing for this solution. If we are to continue to have two categories, but allow biological men into both, then I don’t know what we have, but it isn’t women’s sport. And we should just be honest about that.

Letter to the AusCycling CEO

To whom it may concern. 

I have held a MTBA/Cycling Australia/AusCycling membership continuously since 2006 I believe. I have proudly represented my state and my country at cycling competitions worldwide. I recently declined to renew my membership primarily due to the UCI, and by governance, the AusCycling policy on biological men competing in women's competition.

In June 2022 the UCI claimed to be in the possession of new scientific evidence and reduced the testosterone threshold to 2.5 nmol/L and doubled the time that biological men must keep it at this level for international competition to 24 months. But no scientific study can compare the athletic performance of a man who has taken hormones for 2 years, to the fictional woman he 'would' have been had he been born with two X chromosomes. No study can do that with any accuracy, because one of those subjects has never existed. Women are not the sum total, nor should be defined by, their testosterone levels. Correspondingly, there is no testosterone level at which a man becomes a woman.

While I am not aware of specific transgender athletes currently competing, I believe continuing to make policy on the run when one presents, and performs 'too well', is cruel to the individual and needlessly makes questions of competition fairness personal. Until bodies such as the UCI and AusCycling stipulate a separate competition category for transgender athletes, I will not be forwarding any further funds in support of such bodies. I sincerely hope women's categories are afforded more respect in future, and that the UCI and its associates reconsider their position, as bodies such as FINA and the IAAF have done.

Regards,

Jodie Willett.

Frenchman's Cap: Take 3

 Having poorly executed this hike twice before, we thought we'd nail it this time. It was also a good excuse to use up all the expired trail snacks which had accumulated over the years of missed adventures due to injury and COVID. It was forecast for sunny and 28 degrees and for once the BOM looked correct as we headed to Derwent Bridge on Thursday afternoon. After a delicious if slightly over priced Sri Lankan curry at the Derwent Wilderness Hotel (there's not exactly fierce competition for business out there) we slept in a carpark the back of the Subaru. If the Tesla station cameras were actually working I apologise to the reviewers who caught my 2am underwear run to the public toilets. 

Some would say 'out of date', I say 'vintage'. To be honest, this one tasted a little funky.

After a 5am wake up, short drive, coffee and breakfast at the trail head, we set off in the crisp morning. The thermal top only lasted until the first climb and it was t-shirt weather for the rest of the day. Although there are some exposed stretches, a good deal of the hike is under the forest canopy, surrounded by moss and tree ferns. It's one of the loveliest walks in Tasmania, especially along Lake Vera. 

Barron Pass

The one working-arm bandit and some scenery

From Tahune hut there was a lot of scrambling we didn't remember from our last rushed summer trip. It's not that extreme but was certainly complicated by the fact that John had surgery to repair his broken scaphoid only 7 days before and was still in a cast. It was pretty impressive him getting up and down with one arm. What a view from the summit! It couldn't have been a more perfect day with very little wind or cloud. 

Making friends at the top. Ollie left around the same time as us for his first Frenchman's.

What a view from the summit.

Obligatory couples selfie at the top.

The trip down reminded me that I'd had knee surgery 3 months ago and had done zero hiking since our Overland adventure in June. As a result, we can both barely walk 2 days afterwards. We got back to the car 11h 40m after we left which was faster than we thought and not too far off our run time. The track is quite technical so there's a lot of sections which are better fast-walked. We checked in to our room at the Tarraleah Estate and hobbled over to get a drink. Every step was an act of supreme will and I only saw the upstairs floor of our cute room once because walking back downstairs made me cry. The best thing about this hotel is they arrange a slow cooked meal for your room if you're going to be late getting in. Huge chunks of fall-apart beef Rendang, rice, and sticky date pudding for dessert. Just amazing. It also has Highland cows which we were told we could go in the paddock to see better. I wouldn't recommend it though as they are enormous and we had to back away calmly after they became a little too friendly (or aggressive, it's hard to tell with those horns). Is it an adventure if everything goes to plan? I don't know but this is such a fantastic hike so please check it out. There's a registration system to manage numbers but you only need to register if you're staying in the park overnight. If you're prepared to have a long day, you can certainly tick this off without camping.

A friend from the homeland?

The Overland Track - Tasmania June 2022

 My friends think the Overland Track is a bit easy. That's no reflection on people who do it as a personal challenge. I think it’s great people get out there, and push their own limits. But my friends do it as a day run. One has done it up, AND BACK, as a single push. I hang with a tough crowd which means usually needing an additional element of difficulty to an expedition. Being cold is my personal challenge. I am a tropics girl, 39 years, and 5 years in Tasmania has not changed that. I also have Raynaud’s which means my fingers stop working when they get cold. This is annoying when I’m at home, but is quite dangerous when I’m in the wilderness and can’t zip up a jacket or get food out of my pack. For me, this is a problem to be tackled and solved. It did not get solved on this trip, even with fleece-lined Bunnings gardening gloves and waterproof motorcycling over-mitts. I have some Gortex snow mitts on order. But for this trip John got to feed and dress me again. It’s good practice for when I get dementia, I guess. So here is a brief-ish account of our winter Overland Track.

Day 1 – Ronny Creek Carpark to Waterfall Valley Hut

After hitting the hot breakfast buffet at the Cradle Mountain Hotel, we took our bacon-lined stomachs on the bus to Ronny Creek, the official OT start. It was actively snowing and windy, but that did not deter the inappropriately attired day-trippers from their forays as far as Kitchen Hut. No wonder people die here. The snow got a little deep so we put on our snow shoes for about 3 minutes before realising there really wasn’t enough snow. We did not use them again for the rest of the trip. I declared that we must not pass Cradle Mountain without climbing to the top. Yes I know it’s snowing (hard) and the rocks are icy, and we eschewed snow spikes for useless snow shoes. Shoosh. Climb. We could barely see Cradle Mountain, there would be no view, but refer to the opening paragraph – it was the challenge. Well the challenge proved a little too death enticing so we aborted just short of the plateau. In my head the plateau was a field of soft snow, rainbows and unicorns. But it could have just been chasms of death so I guess I’ll find out on another trip.

The climb up Cradle Mountain

Cool snow patterns

I put my sunglasses on soon after, to keep the sideways hail from piercing my corneas. I did not use them again, due to lack of more hail, and because the winter sun is almost always at your back while traveling south on the OT. After 6 hours we fell into Waterfall Valley Hut, and a group of university students from the UTAS bush-walking club. I showed my age by saying something about how good it was to see ‘young people’ out enjoying the wilderness. We were introduced to a game called ‘Spoons’ which was played with a headtorch, battery, pot handle and a packet of Carbonara, due to the lack of spoons. It was quite physical, and required equal amounts of dexterity, lightning-fast reflexes, and aggression. So naturally John won. 

Wombat count: 1

Day 2 – Waterfall Valley to Pelion Hut

We rose to see the snow had stopped falling, it was completely still, and Barn Bluff was peeking through the cloud. Ten seconds after leaving the hut we saw our second wombat for the trip. With blue skies and the sun at our backs all we had to do was move forward and marvel at the scenery. Obviously, it is different to summer. But there’s a special thrill which comes with white-dusted peaks and squeaky snow underfoot.

Barn Bluff from Waterfall Valley hut

Some sun, finally!

This leg would normally be done over 2 days. But the going was good, despite the snow, and it’s achievable in one, for those who would like to do more side trips further along the track. We only stopped briefly at Windemere Hut so I could give John a shoulder massage as his pack was killing him. There were two revelations for me on this trip, in terms of equipment. The first was merino hiking underwear. Why did I not know about these? I bought two pairs of Macpac women’s merino boxers and they are literally the most comfortable thing I’ve ever worn. I will only wear these for the rest of my life and they will bury me in them (hopefully this model, not this specific pair). The other revelation was walking poles. With my recalcitrant hands I could not be bothered with the faff of poles, but after a trip of using John’s nice carbon ones, I am sold. They prevented many expeditions to the ground on slippery terrain and came into their own while hopping between rocks and random bits of wood people have thrown into mud bogs. Less than 6 months after my knee exploded, they also took a lot of pressure off while descending and hopping down from things. But I still think I look a bit like a ‘Landstrider’ from The Dark Crystal while using them (old person reference). 

I fell in love with the north-west face of Mt Oakleigh, with the sun accentuating the dolerite columns and the curl of the south-west ridge. Unfortunately, all my photos are crap (cold hands, mobile phone quality) so I settled for the often-photographed southern aspect when we reached Pelion Hut. It was such a special track section surrounded by Mt Thetis, Pelion West and Mt Achilles, with Ossa just obscured by the cloud. The hut was surprisingly crowded with several groups walking the track south to north, which is not possible in summer. The hut has lots of rooms but only a small gas heater, which is temperamental to light and is only warm if you’re standing right beside it. The cage around it was full of people’s wet socks cooking away which gave the hut a special aroma. I had the worst night’s sleep with a chainsaw-snorer in the room beside us. Also, note: it is very antisocial to wear heavy hiking boots around the hut while everyone is still asleep. A pair of cheap slides could prevent a spork stabbing.

Wombat count: 3

Mt Oakleigh from Pelion Hut

Looking down the Forth Valley

Day 3 – Pelion Hut to Bert Nichols Hut

This was known as ‘the wet miserable day’. It was raining lightly, all the shrubs were wet and I was grateful for my head to toe waterproofs. Most of my dampness was generated on the climbs in said non-breathable waterproofs. The pit zips on my jacket worked somewhat, but it was essentially a choice of which direction I wanted to the moisture to come from. We decided to climb Mt Pelion East as it was an easier climb than most, even in the winter. Starting out on FRP grating it quickly turned to snow then to a river of ice on the track proper. A lot of off-track walking was required to not slide back down the mountain. Some sketchy scrambling at the top but we finally summited a peak! (No view). I am so pleased at how less afraid of heights I’ve become in Tasmania through sheer exposure and peer pressure. I could barely stand on a kitchen table without vertigo previously so scrambling exposed rock is some small progress.

I was feeling less pleased when we returned to our packs and found that the currawongs had stolen all my remaining trail mix and banana chips. These thieving birds have learned how to work zips so taking all your food with you in a day pack (or buried deep in your bag) is highly recommended. I hope they choked on a pecan. We did a side trip to see the waterfalls before the climb to Du Cane Gap. They were quite impressive, especially D’Alton Falls, and are well worth seeing if there has been decent rain.

D'Alton Falls

We descended from Du Cane Gap, past the site of our infamous scramble down Falling Mountain. Bert Nichols hut is enormous, with a heater that is even more difficult to operate (hot tip: you can’t actually see the pilot light, so just assume it’s lit and proceed with the instructions) but as there were only three of us there, it left ample room for socks and other garments to dry. A first year UTAS medical student, Wade, was part of the university walking group on Day 1 but was fast hiking to make it back to guide a rafting trip down the Picton River. We were at all the same huts during the trip so he got to hear many of our war stories, which were mostly lessons in what not to do and where not to go. I hope he took notes.

Day 4 – Bert Nichols Hut to Echo Point

Reasonably good weather in the morning meant a cracking photo of the Acropolis and Mt Geryon as we left the hut. The track lost some of its appeal from there as we left the spectacular mountains and entered less interesting track, with more mud bogs. On long stretches we fall into our regular routine. John points out relevant geographical features and historical landmarks, while I pepper him with burning questions like “When koalas fart, do you think it smells like eucalyptus?”. By now we were already planning the first thing we were going to eat when the hike was finished and were looking forward to our warm home and comfortable bed. As John was swearing at the difficulty of getting the coal fire going inside Echo Point hut (be very thankful we no longer have to use coal fires to stay warm – what a faff!), we worked out that neither of us actually wanted to stay in the hut. Both of us were just pretending to want to because we thought the other person wanted to stay there, and was taken with its ‘rustic charm’ (read: run down) or something. But the fire was finally kicking off, our shoes were drying for the first time in 4 days so we settled in. John started reading the walkers log while I tended the needy fire. Literally every story mentioned the hut rats and how they enjoyed nibbling food, sleeping mats, and the occasional face. We promptly set up our tent outside. It was the quaintest hut we never stayed in. 

The Acropolis above the trees

The Scotsman knows his way around a coal fire

Echo point hut has the best location

Love a mossy log

Day 5 – Echo Point to Lake St Clair

Best night’s sleep ever. Face, unnibbled. I’m so delighted with our new tent and that we got to use it, finally. It’s great to have my own side entry and annex to facilitate the inevitable 2am wee without climbing over John. It was only a 2 hour walk to Lake St Clair but it felt like an eon stood between me and a burger-with-the-lot at the Hungry Wombat. Most people don’t do this part of the track, opting to get the boat from Narcissus Hut. But John loves it for some reason, and I guess the Myrtle forest has it’s charms, although the multitude of huge fallen trees over the track detracted from them. Have you really done the OT if you don’t walk right to the end? Obligatory photos by the official sign done, we indulged in the complementary hot showers at the visitor centre and the fresh clothes from our car we’d parked there 6 days before. 

The end!

Burger inhaled it was a little jarring being back in ‘civilisation’. I feel confused about which world constitutes ‘real life’ after these types of adventures. It usually ends up in a compromise of gratitude for soft beds, hot showers and lattes, and a yearning to pare back the superfluous trappings of daily life, and to escape from the ‘noise’ of constant 'information'. On a recent podcast the interviewee used the difference between Western and Eastern art as a metaphor for different approaches to life. In Western art we start with a blank canvas and fill it with everything which constitutes the masterpiece. In Eastern art, we start with a block of jade, and carve away everything which is not the masterpiece. Some carving may be required.