Written by Jo Powell
My sister Karen and I headed to Nundubbermere, Queensland last weekend for the Australasian Rogaining Championship — about three hours south‑west of Brisbane and, as we discovered, an event that held a few surprises.
We arrived by bus in the dark, greeted our fellow South Aussies, Shanti and Cath, pitched our tents, and were immediately rewarded with a dinner that could convert anyone to championship rogaining: huge, perfectly cooked beef chunks, roast veg, fresh salad and sticky date pudding with cream – yum! After that feast, sleep came easily.
Morning revealed our first surprise. Instead of the lush Queensland greenery we’d imagined, we woke to rolling hills, brown grass and drought‑stricken trees. The cool air filled quickly with 240 competitors collecting their event bags — maps, an event pen, a flyer for next year’s World Rogaining Championships in SA, and… water purification tablets. Not something you normally get handed in South Australia.
Over dinner we’d chatted with locals and picked up some valuable intel: the national park to the south was notoriously tough, the Severn River Gorge had high cliffs and was tricky to escape if you wandered too deep, and ticks were a genuine concern. Again — not something we worry about in SA. “So how do you stop ticks burying themselves into your flesh?” we asked. The answer: long pants under gaiters and a generous slathering of DEET. We complied.
When we finally opened our maps, the second surprise hit. Contours packed tightly together. Green vegetation covering more than three‑quarters of the map. The Hash House sat fairly centrally, with rolling hills to the north and big, track‑poor hills sliced by the meandering river to the south. At the briefing we were reminded about the high, unclimbable dog fences (to keep dingoes out) and the equally high stiles placed at crossing points. Out on course we encountered plenty of these towering fences — plus many smaller ones that were challenging to climb.
Water drops were well-spaced, and some watercourses held water too, hence the purification tablets. With all this in mind, we chose a route that tackled the big southern hills first while we were fresh, keeping our loop down there deliberately small. After that, we planned to work our way north into the flatter, more open country — lower points, but easier travel. We intended to stay out all night, though we kept an escape route back to the Hash House if we changed our minds. We made sure our route passed two water points, but decided not to venture far enough south to visit either of the All-Night Cafés.
The hills were brutally steep — the kind where climbing up was far easier than fighting gravity and loose earth going down. The drought showed itself in every brittle branch of callitris, hopbush and other shrubs that took turns poking eyes, ears and any exposed skin. At times this vegetation was painfully thick to push through, even resulting in some crawling.
By the time we reached our sixth control in that tangle of slopes and scrub, we were very ready to escape northward. The afternoon heat chewed through our three litres of water and our energy. Nightfall was a welcome cool change, and by midnight we’d finally cleared the vegetation and were pace‑counting and bearing our way through a quieter, more subtle landscape.
We rolled back into the Hash House with an hour to spare — happy with our 66km route, happy with our clean nav, slightly less happy with our speed. Burgers revived us, and then came another surprise: second in Women’s Vets and Super Vet. As always, the top teams were on another planet entirely — the winners covered 135 km with 5,000m of climb.
Karen’s final surprise was a hitch-hiking tick she discovered the following day behind her ear. DEET didn’t work after all or maybe the sweat washed it all off.
Huge thanks to the organisers and volunteers for a tough, beautifully run event. 24‑Severn is one we’ll remember for a long time.
