The hills called and keen Taieri runner Rob Urquhart answered, putting his best foot forward on the trail.
When it comes to running, I am a reluctant spectator. I have been a runner since I was 10 years old, and it remains difficult not to be involved.
So when a recent trip to visit family in Brisbane provided the opportunity to experience a little trail running, it wasn't a difficult decision to tag along with my daughter, Fiona.
The plan was to head into the Wild Horse Mountain area: the mind boggled.
My 4-year-old grandson piped up saying, ''Don't go Granddad!''.
Did he know something I did not?Darkness descends on Brisbane in the winter months at about 5.30pm. The trail run was due to start at 6.30pm. But trail running was something I had not experienced.
As we travelled 70km north-east of Brisbane along the Cook Highway to Wild Horse Mountain, where the Beerburrum and Beerwah State Forests straddle the highway, I kept my thoughts under wraps: ''What have I let myself in for this time?''. I had been there when my daughter tackled the Routeburn Challenge and the Dunedin Moro Marathon and the Oxfam 24-hour challenge in Rotorua, but this was something different again.
We turned off the Bruce Highway into an exotic pine plantation, with open eucalyptus rainforest and coastal wallum remnants. Not knowing the popularity of the sport in Queensland, I was astounded that there were runners everywhere doing their warm-ups, and fitting lighting gadgets to their heads, feet, legs and bodies. In a clearing at the end of the road there were tents set up for registration, portable toilets and a mobile coffee outlet with tasty food on offer. This was serious stuff.
As start-time approached, the atmosphere was electric with enthusiasm as all the runners, (more than 150) lined up.
Apparently it was compulsory for everyone to have a good time; failure to do so was frowned upon.
I was really there as a spectator, and of course to support my daughter, who had entered in a 25km run. There was also the option of 10km and 15km distances.
''I will probably take a good two hours. Hope you don't get cold waiting. I will try to be quicker,'' Fiona said.
The temperature was 14degC, so cold was never going to be an issue.
The instructions for the runners were to always turn right. There was to be reflective tape on some of the corners, but if not, turn right.
''We do not want anyone going off course, as we want to go home tonight, not tomorrow! There will be checkpoints at various points along the way, which you are required to find, and if you do not comply, you will be disqualified,'' the officials instructed.
As the excitement intensified, I wondered whether to join in. It would save hanging around. I could do the 10km.
The reluctant spectator made an impulse decision to run. I had not officially entered, but no-one would know there was a stranger in the field. I had borrowed a headlight, I had my running gear on.
The starting gun shattered the eerie silence and the field surged forward, yours truly at the back. Off we went into the forest, along formed roads covered with a healthy layer of sand from the nearby beach.
The field spread out, the serious runners settling into their task, while I quietly slotted on to the back of the main bunch. It was a challenge to see the trail, but the lights of the other competitors helped. It was fascinating seeing all the lights at different intervals through the trees. For the first 3km progress was good, even with a lack of real fitness. The roads were good, relatively clear, with plenty of room.
It was too easy. Queensland was having its driest season for 117 years. Then we rounded a corner at about the 3.5km mark. All of a sudden, the going got tough, my new running shoes were filthy dirty: we had struck possibly the only wet patch in the vast forest. But we were soon clear of the obstacle and while the stride was heavy for a while, the sand helped to remove the mud. It was onwards towards the 5km turn-around. The field was thinning out, as was my breathing. At the 4km crossroads, there were marshals with torches and headlights, encouraging everyone on, and making sure all stayed on course. Jay and Karla, a couple of middle-aged women escaping the clutches of family for a night of fun, were within hearing distance. Their ''girls'' conversation covered a wide range of topics, and meant little to me, but I was happy to be drawn along by the chat and the extra lighting available. Their lights were brighter than mine.
The conversation was broken in one instance as we skirted around what some said was a small black snake on the track, and at different intervals there were small frogs hopping around. It was obvious that we had to share this forest with nature. Rather to our surprise, this was the only wildlife we came across. I had expected more, but it was dark, so who knows?.
The 5km checkpoint was a welcome relief (years ago this distance would have been nothing to a young buck), officials using generated light to keep track of runners, and then it was the return 5km of the out-and-back course.
Barely had we left the checkpoint when there was the sound of gunshots from some other part of the forest, probably a hunter, and quite probably it was some distance away, but in the darkness, the adrenaline kicked in. Jay and Karla even stopped talking! We were safe, really, but it made us question whether we really should be there.
Jay and Karla's silence was brief, and they recommenced their conversation, I was amazed they could carry on the patter of chatter for 10km, but it was very helpful to carry us over the final part of the course. At varying intervals, the faster runners doing the 10km, and then some of the 15km group, came past still brimful of enthusiasm.
''How far have we to go? Are we on the right track?'' we asked. ''Keep it going, not far now!'' they replied.
Everyone made the most encouraging comments. I used what breath I had left to respond. Remember, I had never set eyes on these 150 people in my life, bar one, my daughter. But trail runners and walkers are known for their friendliness.
The remaining distance was achieved without too much drama, there were no more encounters with nature, further occasional gunshots echoed in the still night, but we were in no danger. We managed to skirt the bog on the return leg, and by this time my shoes were looking considerably better. As we neared the finish, the tent village with lights blazing came into view. It was a welcome sight. Even more welcome was a deep cowbell, which reverberated through the forest. Jay and Karla were still chatting, but the pace increased, though legs and lungs were screaming for a rest.
Cameras snapped the finishers across the line, and times were recorded, but these were irrelevant. There was a feeling of exhilaration, and the coffee never tasted better.
No-one was lost, which was apparently a first for Queensland trail running.
It was 10pm and the runners drifted off home, beaming with satisfaction, the adventure over.
It was an experience I will never forget and would recommend to anyone.
- Rob Urquhart is a lifelong runner and former president of Athletics Otago and Athletics Taieri. He is interested in seeing similar trail-running events established in the Dunedin area.
