The CrossingDeparture day
Today Is The Day
I woke with the full weight of what I was about to do in my head. A wet Canning River parkrun got me out of bed, surrounded me with people I cared about and sent me walking east.
The public version of Day 1 began at Canning River parkrun. The private version began in bed.
I had spent months talking about the day I would leave Perth and start heading east on foot. Then it arrived, and for a few minutes it was not a grand adventure. It was just me lying there with a whole range of thoughts in my head.
Reality had finally caught up with the idea. It was today. It was right now. It was now or never. There were moments of who am I to think I can do this? There were doubts, fears, and flashes of wondering whether I was stupid to think I could even try. There was also the thought that I could just not show up.
But if I did not show up, I would be letting myself down, letting everyone else down, and nobody would believe a word I said ever again. So the only way to face it was to get on with the morning as planned.
So I went to Canning River parkrun. It was wet, crowded, generous, awkward, funny, and very public. My son was there. My running world was there. So many friends stood around in the rain to send me off. Jamie Richards, a workmate, made the effort to come down and wish me well. Wendy from the Heart Foundation was there. Peter Abetz was there. We had made efforts with the media, but I did not really know whether anyone was coming, and the feeling was that maybe it was not happening. Then Channel 7 and Channel 10 both turned up with cameras, which was amazing.
I ran five kilometres, my 50th parkrun, at Canning River event 103. That was a lovely little bit of symmetry to carry into the morning: one familiar parkrun before the most unfamiliar thing I had ever tried. Near the end, friends who had already finished came back out and joined us, so my son and I crossed the finish with a large group around us. It was a very wet parkrun, but that finish made it special.
After the finish, I milled around in the damp while the media pieces were done and the excitement kept building. Peter Abetz, my local MP at the time, was there after his office had given us a donation. Jamie being there meant a lot too. We had both taken voluntary redundancy a few weeks earlier, so technically we were ex-workmates by then. His turning up was unexpected and awesome.
There were little moments everywhere. Ben Harris’ attempted high five somehow became a televised fail, because of course it did. People were smiling and freezing and hanging around far longer than the weather deserved. Steve from Poppet’s Pantry had already sent us into the day with donated food. Even the Richard Branson joke found one more early-morning excuse to appear because Steve had a former Necker Island connection and apparently no thread was too ridiculous to keep alive.
At 10:09am I started a second Strava activity called #HAA2015 #day001. That second start matters. parkrun was the farewell. The next activity was the crossing beginning for real.
It still felt like a special day for most of the day, really. A few friends came with me for the first few kilometres. Ben Harris and Michelle Brown stayed with me for a while in the morning, as far as Orrong Road. Grant and Richard showed up for a few kilometres too. The Harris clan also appeared later on the Heritage Trail, most likely at a road crossing. The exact place has blurred a little with time, which feels fair enough after a long, wet first day and all the years since. But once we cleared the start, the high fives, and the media cameras, the crowd thinned into a smaller group jogging and walking along the river, then along the paths beside Roe Highway. It was familiar territory, the kind of place I had run through many times in training. But it felt different now, because this was no longer training.
Day 1 still felt close to Perth: friends could appear along the way, lunch was at Maccas in Forrestfield, the Heritage Trail was familiar, the support van could keep moving around us, and people were already solving problems before we had properly left the city behind. Lunch was great, partly because Jon phoned Tim Oberg, who was head of parkrun Australia at the time. Tim spoke to me and gave words of support. parkrun Australia backed HAA beautifully throughout, and parkrun would become the focal point in each of the capital cities.
The campervan had a roof leak almost immediately, so Ols and Ben had to take the new home back to Apollo while I kept moving. That was a fairly quick introduction to how HAA was going to work: I would walk, and the support crew would keep the whole fragile machine from falling over.
Jon Storey and Abdul stayed with me for the day. Abdul had already done a big effort just getting to parkrun, then ran parkrun, then somehow got talked by Jon into carrying on to the end. Friends and runners appeared in pieces. Jon’s family became a roving support and photography crew, appearing with chocolate and pies, which is about as civilised as a cold wet first day was ever going to get. There were more familiar faces too: Alicia, Mark J, Mark K, Scott, Michelle Brown on her birthday, Jez, Kelly, Tom, Nat, Margie and probably others I am still underselling. The day had a moving village feel to it, not constant, but enough that I never felt like the start had simply spat me out and left me alone.
By evening, the neat plan had already changed. Abdul was still there, partly because Jon had convinced him to keep going to the end. The walking started to feel more real in the dark, especially as the overnight stay problem unfolded. The planned overnight stay location was shut because it was out of season, which I would probably have known if I had done proper planning. We were looking at parking opposite the Chidlow Tavern. Then Mike, who I knew from going to watch Perth Glory games rather than from running, made a generous offer and gave us a place at Helena Valley instead, with power, a shower, and the kind of hospitality that turns a logistical wobble into a memory full of gratitude.
I felt so much gratitude for that. With hindsight, it was also a sign of things to come: people stepping up, doing amazing things, and showing the wonderful side of human nature exactly when we needed it.
Day 1 ended with the simple line: 52 kilometres or so closer to destination. The number depends on whether you count parkrun, the day activity, and all the little moving parts exactly the same way, but the emotional truth was simple enough. I had left.
Videos From The Day
Gary Wilmot Departure.
Pete Liddicoat of Visual Reality Productions captured the departure from Canning River parkrun on Day 1, including Ben Harris' "Deny Five" high-five fail.
Open on VimeoImages From The Day
