Trip Report: Reconnaissance of Binnaburra Base / Into the James Hole

HELP (help)

Brogan / Liza / Peter / James

We started out by walking about 1.5 km down the road from O’Reilly’s, then bushbashing east down a spur into Canungra Creek. After briefly pretending to be respectable walkers on the Canungra Creek Circuit for a mere hundred metres, we immediately returned to our true calling of vegetation penetration.

From there we bushbashed along the creek edge to another spur and continued the eastward campaign. We picked up a genuinely lovely ridgeline for a few kilometres; a reprieve we had not yet fully earned. 

Eventually we dropped back into another creek in search of a remote waterfall, taking a significant detour as the plan was simply not difficult enough as it were. It was there we found the James Hole itself, carved by said waterfall, accessible only by campusing down a teetering old tree branch. Some of the party chose to descend, while others enjoyed the view from afar. Both options were glorious, but those who entered returned changed, exhibiting a tendency to belt out monkey noises at random intervals. Further research is required.

The James Hole

This was followed by the worst bushbash of the trip: a steep uphill with no route intel, no obvious line, and increasingly strong evidence that the jungle did not want us there. Morale remained strong, boosted by the occasional primate call. Progress was made through stubbornness alone. Fauna overcame flora. Apes together strong, even when apes split off and do their own bushbash line privately believing they are the smartest ape.

At length, we burst out at a cliffline with a panoramic view, instantly converting the previous suffering into “worth it” through the magic of scenery. After some scouting, we found a cliff break with terrain that could generously be described as passable. Careful nav brought us down onto another spur, which we followed out to a trail connecting to Binnaburra.

Cliffy Views

Binnaburra, for context, is the enemy operations base. We, naturally, were camped at O’Reilly’s. This made the incursion not just a restful break, but an intelligence-gathering mission behind hostile lines. We spent a highly civilized hour undercover at Binnaburra using the facilities, refitting, and conducting reconnaissance, all while filling up on lumpfish caviar (which I am told is an Australian delicacy; but this feels akin to the drop-bear conspiracy).

At 2:30 pm, we set off on the roughly 20 km return to O’Reilly’s via the Border Track, with the extremely reasonable and definitely not optimistic goal of holding at least 5 km/h the whole way and getting home before last light.

Outbound from Binnaburra, we passed the final waves of ops returning home, some expressing concerned looks given our direction and time of day. We spared them no conversation, focused on our goal.

For the first few kilometres, this seemed possible.

Then the mud deepened. The fog encroached. The pace faded.

It became increasingly obvious that our head torches were no longer a contingency item but a certainty. The last long slog played out to alternating blasts of Russian hardbass and medical podcasts, a playlist so deranged and specific that it perfectly captured the mood of the operation. We trudged through the sludge, the final kilometers a blur.

Total: ~45 km.

I call it a marathon, despite it not being a run. Some may judge, but they are welcome to repeat this unique form of self-inflicted psychological warfare before sharing their terminological concerns. My inbox is open.

PS: A modest provision for the spiritual fortification of the community was established at 28.212273, 153.162659.

"Giving back to the community. Ooh ooh, aah aah!" - Peter