Hiking the Larapinta Trail in style and comfort with World Expeditions. Photo / Anna Sarjeant
Anything can happen when you put a precious pom in the Outback. Fortunately for this one, five days tramping the Larapinta Trail only resulted in the highest of hiker’s highs, writes Anna Sarjeant.
Whenever I hear the notion that “money can’t buy happiness”, I am reminded of flying economy. Specifically, the occasion I was herded past a lady flying Premium Economy on my way to the rear end of the plane. Said woman was sitting with a glass of fresh orange juice in one hand and a flute of bubbles in the other. Saluting both vessels to every passenger that passed, she shrilled:
“Prrrrrreeeeeemium.”
Before flashing a wickedly self-satisfied smile.
Imagine how happy she’d be in Business.
Truly, who hasn’t imagined a (better) life with a few million in the bank? When we play the torturous pretend game of winning Lotto, it’s a life spent in First-Class cabins and shiny white yachts, sipping Dom Perignon and wearing Versace.
It, therefore, came as a shock, while on a recent trip to the Outback, hiking a small part of the multi-day Larapinta Trail - one of Australia’s Great Walks - that I discovered something controversial. It turns out that significantly reducing my creature comforts leads to a surprising surge in serotonin. Who knew five days in the wilderness, with not so much as a swag and a smile could put me in a dangerously close mood to writing a TED Talk? Not I.
Now, to be clear. I was not rolling around in the dust like Mick Dundee. Please. I’m from the UK - we’re scared of Haribo snakes. Rather, I travelled with World Expeditions, the only tour company to pepper the Larapinta Trail with four extra-comfortable eco-comfort camps, allowing hikers exploring the West MacDonnell Ranges to stop nightly at safari-style encampments, enjoying the permanent canopied guest areas, which are both sympathetic to the environment and stylish without sticking out.
I woke naturally most days, albeit in the darkness of my tent. The full moon departed the day of our arrival and with the winter sun not rising until 7am, bags are packed and sleeping bags stuffed by head torch and guesswork alone. Your reward is a spectacular sunrise smeared across the sky in swathes of orange. It’s a show. Pity the fool who ignores it, so pull up a chair, a coffee too and bask in Mother Nature’s most timeless act.
If you can’t remember the last time you simply enjoyed the sunrise, whether you mostly sleep through it or drive through it in a rush to beat traffic and send emails, here’s a reminder that it occurs every day, is free to enjoy, and seems to be a luxury we rarely grant ourselves. And yet, I’ve never met a morose soul standing before sunrise and bemoaning it.
Most days on the Larapinta Trail, whether you tackle the entire 230km, or partake in a nugget, are spent walking. The terrain is an expected mix of burnt orange soil and an unexpected medley of shale and stone intent on rolling your ankles.
Divvied up into 12 sections, the rocky ascent to Counts Point is part of section eight, a five- to six-hour tramp over undulating terrain with the sun, now high and hot, searing down the nape of your neck. Like most hikes, the climax comes at the top. With views spanning across to Mount Sonder and razor-sharp ridge edges that tumble into a gorge more than 1000 metres below.
It’s at the top of nature’s playground where you’ll get a buzz that’s almost impossible to replicate elsewhere, and it’s got everything to do with the landscape you’re conquering. Because when Man sees mountain, Man climbs it. Not because we’re all blister-hungry masochists but because as humans, we’re compelled to. Something deep in our being knows that the outdoors doubles our endorphins - even more so if you add an accomplishment like a mountain peak.
It’s this very high that we gorge on while trekking back down through the red soil and thicket. Feet are aching but we’re practically gliding; soothed by our triumph. It’s an additional two-hour walk to camp, but the sense of achievement supercharges our descent - straight to the pre-dinner cheeseboard.
The “hiker’s high” is reiterated the following day while traversing the 9km Ormiston Pound, a side trip off the Larapinta Trail and mercifully, much flatter. So called because the circuit walk is flanked by towering ridges, akin to walking in a giant basin.
Not long before the trail ends, there is a river crossing. Not a skip and a hop to get your ankles wet, but a nipple-tickling wade in frigid water, with your backpack carried above your head like a commando sergeant. Presuming the river had been hexed, thus explaining why my legs turned to stone as soon as I stepped in, it wasn’t until I was drying off on the other side that I noticed I was in some sort of pepped-up state of euphoria. Not dissimilar to your third back-to-back coffee of a morning. Only better. I was having a Wim Hof moment. I felt immune to the cold and every other ailment in life. Wim calls it positive stress, I call it an antidepressant in a riverbed.
That evening we bunkered down at Sonder Camp, which sits at the base of its namesake mountain. As a hiker more accustomed to a tin of cold Watties come dinnertime, sitting around the campfire - the promise of a three-course meal wafting in the air - comforted me in ways I can’t quite explain.
Camp guides, your beacon by day and gracious camp hosts by sundown, create gastronomic marvels. Comparable to demigods, your guides can hike 16km per day and upon returning to camp, whip up a quick batch of damper bread and a lamb roast. I marvel at their energy while eating cheese, spreadeagled across the camp couch.
Most nights are spent in a relaxed stupor. A glass of wine around the campfire; six guests in total, putting the world to right over chit-chat and camaraderie. Only by day four do I realise I haven’t seen a television all week; the internet is a distant memory because WiFi appears sporadically. I haven’t missed habitual screentime. I’ll admit trash TV is my guilty pleasure but out here in the wilds, contentment is as simple as bringing a decent group of people together and letting the conversation flow. Belly roll laughter soon follows.
On day one, we cordially discuss the trail; by day five the group’s solved every issue in the royal household, including Harry. Collectively, we encourage one member of the group to sleep outside and under the stars. The bed frame is immediately dragged to the fireside. Then we turn – as all good camping trips should – to ghost stories. We talk of Aboriginal spirits on eternal walkabout, governing the land they fervently nurtured.
The bedframe swiftly returns to its tent.
As the trip draws to a close, the Larapinta Trail concludes with Mount Sonder. A 1380m-high behemoth that’s navigated via head torch, following a 2am alarm in order to reach the summit by sunrise.
It’s not an easy tramp. With large rocks underfoot and a four-hour ascent in near darkness, the wind rattles in our ears and robs lips of their lustre. But it’s little wonder the conquest to the top marks the final hurrah of the journey. It hits the happiness trifecta: sunrise, summits and fellowship. There’s even coffee, thanks to our ever-diligent guides who carry flasks of hot water and freshly made brownies. The only dampener, as feet start to groan, is that we’re only halfway. Another three hours back down the track and we’ll be met with a fry-up at base camp, such is the magic of hiking the Larapinta “in comfort”.
If you think I’m going to wrap this up with a revised notion that “the best things in life are free” - I’m not. World Expeditions don’t escort hikers up and down the Larapinta - with lunches of quinoa salad served on metal platters - for free. That would be ludicrous. I’m also not going to donate a Lotto win to the local donkey sanctuary in favour of a sunrise. But I am going to do more hiking. And get outdoors more. And even dip my feet in more stupendously cold rivers. I’m going to turn off the TV and simply sit, talk and laugh with my family at night. I’d say happiness is the balance of spending both your time and your money on good people and great adventures.
Scrap carpe diem - make that a quote and stick it on your throw cushion.
For all of World Expeditions’ Larapinta Trail options, see worldexpeditions.com/Australia
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