All the notes I made in the journal about non-physical things, from what the weather was like, to how I coped with the isolation and stress of doing a week-long walk all on my own.
Had some really nice weather for the first few days, but, just as all bushwalking lore has it, as soon as you're a day away from
the car and can't turn back, it closes in and turns nasty. I experienced the full set, from blistering sun the first day through mild cloudy days, to freakily fast weather changes - even for Tasmania. It just goes to prove the old wisdom - "In Tasmania prepare for
all weather, all day, any day." 
Lots! Sunrise was 5AM, and although dusk was 9PM, you could get by without a torch around until about 10PM. This made for around 15-16 hours of usable 'day'. This was an big change from other times I had been walking, with only about 11 hours of daylight, and about 9 of that usable.
It seems logical, but I wasn't really aware until this trip that the day is just 'stretched' in Summer, there isn't hours magically pasted into the middle of the day, or tacked on. In the long long days, between 5 and 7 is like dawn, and 7 to 9 is like twilight. Although you're really getting more hours of light, not all of it is really sunbaking weather. I found I was getting into a similar routine to pervious trips. Although I would get into camp several hours before dark, it was mostly too cold to enjoy sunbathing or swimming.
What with 15-hour days, it's important to get some decent rest. As I was moving along, I tried out a few methods. I found that short rests are good for getting your breath back (e.g. 10-30 secs every 10 metres or so of vertical travel up a hill) but don't help you recover from general fatigue. Because I was so motivated (see below) I was never really tempted to waste time, and actually found it difficult to persuade myself into resting for a decent time. I had to make reasons for myself to rest, otherwise I would have just kept pushing on.
As I found out, by resting for a decent amount of time halfway through the day, this really increases energy level later in the day, and reduces the debilitating effects of fatigue.
I thought this would be one of my greatest problems - with no one to push me along, I might have just dawdled about, wasting time. As it turned out, I was so aggressive time-wise, I actually managed to do a seven day walk in six. I found that mornings, especially were very quick. With no-one to wait for, or mess about with, 15-20 mins to pack, and the day is started.
I feel I must have been a bit like the mad german our walking group met near the Narrows on the Port Davey trip. After a few rebuffs, I think I calmed down a bit and tried a little diplomacy, rather than bludgeoning information of the people I met. At the time though, I was extremely concerned about what the Lagoon and PB were really like. I was hearing all kinds of rumours, some from people who had been there 10 years ago, and I was worried because I wasn't supposed to be going alone (according to all walk safety rules) and I hadn't been able to hire an EPIRB, as I had originally planned. Paul and some of the guys will know how conservative I am by nature, and how particular I am regarding safety, so this was stretching my comfort margin by a considerable amount.
One thing that did worry me a fair bit was how I would deal with the isolation and loneliness. As expected (and planned) I had plenty of company. In fact I had too much company and during parts, I wished everyone would just go away and leave me alone. That said, knowing I was the only human in sight, and probably within miles was a very strange and disorientating feeling. I can feel a bit of empathy with the character of 'Castaway' who goes crazy after being deprived of human contact for a few years.
The nights were particularly difficult as I'm afraid of the dark, and I realised how many stupid horror films I had watched, as visions of aliens and monsters were brought to mind by every shadow and strange noise. Thankfully, I was able to use Nick's idea of using willpower and firmly disbelieving in them and choosing another (less worrying) thread of thought.
Ironically, I remember on one day congratulating myself on not having any nightmares, despite having an overactive imagination. That night I had one of the most horrific nightmares I've had in a while (I normally get nightmares very rarely). Words can't express the terror that woke me sometime before dawn, so I won't try and write it down, but it had a lot to do with a monster tearing people in half, then devouring the still-alive parts from the feet up. I think it might have been triggered by the day's enormous walk, my legs protesting the abuse, and the feedback fed into the dream.
Even though it was midsummer, I still got it, mostly due to exposure. Six hours outdoors in cool and windy weather, damp from sweat or rain will bring on a mild case. The worst part of it is that it affects the mind first - making you do things that are immediately apparent as stupid or silly later on. In the really long day (day 5) I found I had to keep subvocally talking to myself, reminding myself to slow down and take it easy, otherwise my subconscious urge to burn all the way to South Cape Rivulet would take over. I could quite easily have had a trip or fall and injured myself otherwise.
"Okay, take it slow down this grade, it's slippery. Slow to a walk around this bush, look ahead, check the grade. OK go, now slow down for this tree root, easy. Easy, dammit! Stop jumping! Slow Down! OK stop right here, close your eyes and meditate. Centre yourself, slow the adrenalin. Right, now step down. Left. Right. Brace staff there. Check toe holds, and ease weight down, right, now continue easy. Check next obstacle..."
It sounds very silly on reflection, but was it was essential at the time to keep me from exhausting myself
too early or making a mistake - I had to literally 'think' every step through.
Looking back, I was pretty far gone, I reckon. At the time I was completely focussed (Paul might call it momentary monomania
on getting to South Cape Rivulet.
If I'd had to, I would have kept going another couple of hours, or until I collapsed.
I
recall briefly toying with the idea of just keeping on to cockle Creek, but there wasn't enough light, and I was hoping for a day on the sand, under the sun.
I wasn't even really that tired when I got to the beach, I could have just kept walking and walking and walking...
