On a cold and blustery winter’s day, we decided to test our athletic ability while climbing the Glasshouse Mountains’ most accessible peak, Mount Beerburrum. Little did we realise it would test us quite as much! Had we done a little more research, perhaps we wouldn’t have attempted it. As it was though, it turned out to be a great expedition and a fabulous achievement for all.
I had read that it would be steep, but at only 700 metres, I bargained that the pain wouldn’t last forever. How wrong was I?! In fact, the only time the path became just a gentle slope was right at the end. This is the bit that is evident in most of the photos taken from the top – lulling you in to a false sense of security when you do a quick internet browse.
I strapped Connie to my front, leaving Stephen to carry the supplies and have hands free to wrangle John if need be. Thomas, we had to assume, would conquer it on his own.
It was pretty much straight up from the get-go. The boys initially found it exciting, running upwards and onwards. Their physicality impressed me. As I was gasping and shuffling up the steep incline, Thomas and John were racing and chasing each other. About half way up, the novelty wore off for Thomas. He didn’t complain or sulk but you can tell he was finding the going difficult. Our solution was a marching tune to keep his spirits up and before you know it we were at the top. John continued to run up the ascent until he needed a miss-timed nappy change (a number 2 – isn’t it always the way?!). I think the break broke his momentum and he needed to be carried the remaining third of the way.
Upon reaching the top, we climbed up the ladder to the fire tower and were greeted by an exceptional 360 degree view. If the walk hadn’t already taken our breath away, the view certainly would have. From Caloundra in the north, Brisbane in the south and the spectacular Glasshouse Mountains in between, it was most definitely worth the hike up.
After taking ample photographs and finding a geocache (another of my past-times), it was time to tackle the descent. Although less cardio-vascularly straining, muscularly it was just as difficult. Being as clumsy as Bambi on ice, I was hyper-conscious of my joey strapped to my front. It didn’t help much that both boys decided they must hold Mummy’s hand and hers alone. I wasn’t confident in John’s eagerness to get down the hill and I had visions of him bowling us over, careering like a snowball down the mountain side. Or like this dog, only not so cute.
As it was, we all made it down without incident, with burning calves, quads and hamstrings for the rest of the week to remind us of our effort. It was a meritable experience for us all and a great post-natal workout to boot!