Kunanyi (Mt Wellington) is considered a special place by First Nations people. It is described in the original ‘creation stories’ passed on orally through the generations. “For Palawa woman Sharnie Read, the natural land mass is considered a sacred place where ancestors’ spirits are laid to rest.”
I didn’t know anything about this beautiful, special place before I saw a Facebook post by Ali Pottinger from Squadrun asking if anyone was keen to run in the Kunanyi Mountain Festival. When I watched the promo video, I was hooked! As I said to Ali in the conversation I had with her for Dirt Church Radio, it was the ‘sexy, skyline ridge’ that grabbed me! I love getting up high, looking down on the world and seeing it in all its splendour. It grounds me when I see how vast the world is and how small I am.
The 46km Alpine Marathon was a first for 2025, with only 100 entrants, and we had to show that we were capable of navigating challenging terrain with little or no support. The legs were long, remote and exposed. Could I? Should I? I wanted to!
It was also my birthday the week of the event – what a great way to spend it – in Tasmania – a bucket list destination, and pushing myself to take on a challenge. It was my sort of event, heaps of elevation, rugged and varied terrain, ‘sexy skyline ridge’, some scrambling and some running. I wouldn’t have to run the whole thing – plenty of excuses to walk!
I hit ‘enter’ on the 46km Alpine Marathon in one of those ‘do or die’ moments. If I thought about it too much, I would talk myself out of it – too old, not good enough, too challenging, too difficult …. Once done, there was no going back, and I just had to make sure I could get to the start line!
I’ll fast-forward through the next eight months of training. It was a mixed bag, as training often is: some days were great, others were, to put it mildly, ‘stink.’ Summer saw me in Te Wai Pounamu climbing every steep, bouldery, technical hill I could find and loving it, getting stronger every day. The Goat Tongariro was great preparation 6 weeks out, and I had a great run. Despite a sore left foot, I was feeling fine. Until I wasn’t. The sore left foot didn’t improve, and I had to stop training for a couple of weeks to let it settle. Then just as I was getting back into it, I fell – tripped up on a blooming paving cobble – and injured my shoulder. Two weeks out from the event, I felt like the decrepit old lady I am, trying to convince myself I am not! I couldn’t sleep because I couldn’t get comfortable, work was manic – travelling all over, so no time to get to a physio. I had to take heart in the training I had already done, reminding myself that there was nothing more I could do now. My only option was to suck it up, get to the start line, and see what happened.”
Kunanyi is present everywhere in Nipaluna, Hobart. It stands proud and imposing. It is majestic, and I can understand why the Palawa people regard it as a special place. I am still processing how my need to stand on top of mountains is counter to the relationship indigenous peoples have with the landforms that they live among. Is it my Western upbringing and worldview, the need to conquer and dominate? When I am in the mountains, walking or running through the forests and then standing on the summits, I feel connected to them. I draw strength from them by being within them. I feel healed and renewed. I feel awe and wonder. But I need to be on top!
So, back to the event. I had been surprised, coming from Aotearoa where Māori culture and practices are visible in many places, to find little or no evidence that Aboriginal peoples ever existed in Hobart. Indeed, as an old friend whom I managed to catch up with said, as soon as they arrived in Hobart, 20 odd years ago, they felt at home. I had felt that same familiarity, as if I was coming home when I first saw it. Grand, sandstone buildings in the same architectural style as in the north of England, where I grew up. But, no sign of the ancient culture that was there well before the British arrived.
I was heartened by the invitation to a cultural welcoming to the event. The “Welcome to Country‘ is a relatively new thing in contemporary Australia, and I believe that the practice varies from region to region. In Nipaluna, Hobart, the Palawa people have a smoking ceremony. This is a spiritual practice involving the burning of native plants to produce cleansing smoke. This smoke is used to welcome people to the land, acknowledge ancestors, and purify spaces. It then drifts across the land and advises the ancestral spirits that “we are now on Country”. After an elder spoke to welcome us, and he and a younger tribal member chanted and used sticks to create rhythmic sounds, we were invited to walk through the smoke, breathe it in and waft it over our bodies. It was a beautiful, spiritual way to start. I felt calm and ready to go. It helped me focus on what was in front of me, and it gave me the strength to face the challenge.
I had decided to walk with a running friend who was also rather under the weather – she had been sick in the run-up to the event. Given the small field and the forecasted poor weather, we planned to roughly stay together. On the first 12km up the mountain, Sarah went ahead. I stuck to my plan to take it really easy in the first part of the event and reached the summit about 5 – 10 minutes behind her. What a climb it was! Up through the bush to start off with – a few wallabies around but no snakes – steady climbing on wide fire trails. Then we doglegged up and across some huge, dolerite boulder fields – we just had a view through the swirling clouds to the harbour below. At this point, I held a little hope that the forecasted rain would not come.
The first part of runnable trail came as we crossed the road and onto the trail beneath the Organ Pipes. Spectacular! And so good to run instead of fight my way, making sure my feet weren’t going to slide off or between the boulders. It was a glorious 2 km until we started to climb, hands on knees, up the ZigZag track – it has a very apt name. As I climbed into the mist, the temperature dropped, and I stopped to put on my jacket. Into the aid station, passing Sarah on her way out, a quick bite to eat, refill my bottle and then down the road to the longest, most remote section. The clouds cleared again as I descended, and I caught a glimpse of the city and harbour below. It would be fabulous on a sunny day!
I caught up with Sarah just as she was about to enter the Thark Ridge Track. It was very gloomy by now; the rain was starting to fall (my vain hopes of earlier good weather well and truly put to bed!), we could hardly see the path, and certainly not much in the way of views. We decided to stay together. It felt like we were the only ones out there! It was also strangely beautiful and we talked about how it felt vaguely familiar – a bit like some of New Zealand’s trails – the stunted, layered trees that are on the higher slopes, blown sideways by the prevailing winds. But also very different – we were making our way through reddish rocks that became increasingly large as we went. It was cold! We had all our clothes on, and they were all sodden!
It is difficult to remember what order everything came in, as it all merged into a misty, wet mess! The ‘sexy skyline ridge’ was felt rather than seen! We climbed humongous boulders and stood atop one of them with white space and a sense of nothingness on either side of us! Eerie and amazing and scary all at the same time! The exposed, rocky terrain gave way to forest and tall grasses that drenched us even more than the rain as we ran through them. Despite the grim weather, we talked about how much we loved it – perverse, I know. We both rose to the challenge of the varied terrain, enjoying the climbing, the route finding, and the unpredictable nature of the course. This was exactly what we had come for!
Down to the aid station where we ate and drank, sorted out our gear and prepared ourselves for the next big hill. The run description says – “head up a short(ish…) steep climb.” Short-ish is highly debatable! It went on forever, it seemed! Up and up, steeper and steeper, more and more slippery and very muddy. But it did indeed come to an end, and then there was 7km of what might have been very enjoyable flat fire trail. However, it was at this point that we decided we weren’t really enjoying it any more! There is always a slump in a race, and this was it! I think because we weren’t having to struggle against the elements and the terrain any more, we sort of gave in. It was a bit of a grind, so we walked for a few hundred metres, then ran, then walked and kept up a pretty steady pace. By this stage, we were counting the kms and ticking off the waymarkers. We reminded ourselves to take notice of the surroundings and be grateful that we were here in this amazing place.
The aid station at Silver Falls was a big goal – we wanted to arrive in time for hot soup! We did! It was so good! We didn’t linger, though, as the end was in sight! In theory, according to the description and the profile, it was all downhill after the aid station at Silver Falls. Jokes! Well, it was, but the terrain was rough underfoot, and every step when my feet didn’t go down flat was excruciating! My ankles were toast! My knees were toast! My hips were toast!
Sarah was struggling by this point, and she urged me to go ahead. But we had been together for so long now, I wasn’t going to leave her in the last few kms. So on we went together. We could hear the finish line from way off, and it urged us on. The last bit is through paddocks, and suddenly, we were there, coming through the finishing chute. We grabbed each other’s hands and ran through, arms aloft. We had done it! 10 hours and 26 minutes, relieved, happy, proud and humbled to have shared such a tough, beautiful, and culturally rich experience in a place like no other. We came 77th & 78th out of 81 runners. I ws first in my age group – you’ve got to be in it to win it!
Will I go back? I would love to. I want to see it in the sunshine, the ‘sexy skyline ridge’ in all its glory is still waiting for me. Laters Kunanyi!
