The Great Ocean Walk - 6/8 Days - 104 Kilometres
The Great Ocean Walk was opened 7 years ago and runs from Apollo Bay to Glenample, just before the Twelve Apostles at Gibson's car park. While some crazy people run the return journey in a day most take a more leisurely route walking it between six to eight days east to west. The eight day itinerary is a bit too easy, some days consist of less than ten kilometres, meaning that you finish the walk before lunch time. Then again, if you wished to do a few side tracks, explore the land around the track or simple get away from everything, this might be the better plan. Each night costs twenty dollars for the camp site however and the idea of carrying eight days worth of food wasn't an attractive one. I chose the six days and five nights option. It involved an easy first day of ten or so kilometres followed by two days harder days, after which the itinerary is the same as the other one.
Day 1- Apollo Bay to Elliot Ridge 10.3 Kilometres 28/01/2013
Woke up around seven still sleepy after having slept over twelve hours. This was partly due to being childishly excited about the hike, but mostly the fact that my hostel in Melbourne was a drugs den I did not feel particularly safe sleeping in. My hostel at Apollo Bay, 'Apollo Bay Backpackers Lodge', was lovely however and I was in bed by six. Moreover the gentleman who ran the place let me leave a bag full of things behind which saved me from having to carry the extra weight. I'd already arranged a food drop which meant I only needed to carry three days not six. The Great Ocean Road information centre, near the bus stop, provided me with tidal times. These are essential if you are planning to do the coastal sections of the walk- I'm afraid I'm going to avoid them at all costs but took them anyway just in case. I'm afraid I'm not a fan of hiking in sand, I've neither the patience or fitness it requires.
Shifting my rucksack uncomfortably as I got use to the weight, I walked down to the official start point. Took the needed photograph with me pointing to where I was on the map and prepared to get started. Within a hundred meters I realized I still had the hostel door key and walked the ten minutes back to the to return it.
Back at the start I made my way through the town. I had to consult my map quite a bit to check, the signs aren't at every corner, but so long as your on the road nearest the sea your on the right track.
I slowly crossed from the town to farm land, my backpack already giving me grief. For the first five kms there were houses scattered across the landscape, the path easy with the feel of a country lane, pleasant but not yet exciting.
One ear phone in, the other on the alert for snakes (not an advised technique) I finally got a rhythm as I giggled my way through Terry Pratchett's 'Interesting Times' audio book. The path meandered alongside the ocean, at one point offering the option to walk across the rocky shoreline. Attempting to get into the spirit I took a few photographs but none were at all dramatic, houses still polluting the view.
The path entered a more forested area, rising and falling. Reached a car park and picnic area where I stopped and had a bite but eager to get on I followed the path down to sea level again, crossed the stream and began to climb on the other side. I reached camp at about 2:00pm and after setting up camp stood around and wondered what I should do for the rest of the day. Decided to take a stroll around the place. Promptly got lost and got back at around 5ish tired. The camp was completely deserted. I'd expected it to hold at least a few other hikers but it turns out I was a week too late and everyone had gone home. The camp site was a lot like the ones in Queensland, consisting of a large wooden shelter, toilets, two large water tanks and camping tables. Very pretty and well worked into the landscape. Hard soil though and my tent pegs were instantly bent which boded well for the rest of the week.
Day 2 - Elliot Ridge to Cape Otway - 24.7 Kilometres 29/02/2013
A sound woke me up three times night. Some sort of animal loud and close to my tent. The log book, present at each campsite for hikers to write notes it, talked of a strange monster they'd heard but not seen which had haunted their campsite. Sense told me that the dangerous things in Australia didn't make loud noises, were in fact quite small and could not break into tents. It was also a sound I recognized but couldn't place. Hard to put it down on paper in words, 'huckhuckhuck khaaaaaaaaa' noise is the closest I can get. It was as if some large creature was struggling to take in air and release it as he dragged its axe towards my sleeping helpless form. Sense is all very well in day light. Then on the third occasion I realised what it was. A koala bear was obviously in the tree above me. Grinning and feeling like a true bush girl I rolled over a fell straight back to sleep. Woke up later than I'd planned and packed up my camp in my usual hour. Saw my night's companion up in a tree before leaving, still calling out.
The second days hike skips the Blanket Bay camp site and goes straight to Cape Otway. Leaving the shore line the first half of the day goes inland through stunning forests. The trail is a rather large dirt track, easy walking and relatively flat. What made it special was the glimpses of wildlife around you. First I spotted my first kangaroo, a mother followed my a child, crossing my path. It was barely a glimpse but left me grinning. Then barely a kilometre after I nearly walk into another koala sat dopilly in the middle of the road and barely bothering to look up at me as I approached. It had apparently gotten itself high on the uchalipses leaves. Its a miracle that they're not extinct with the survival instincts this one showed.
The road eventually turns onto another track, a really pretty path canopied by trees and bushes. Still very easy terrain making a really idilic and peaceful walk. My companion audio book today was Dick Francis' 'Blood Sports' a rather dark crime novel about depression, a bit more morose than I expect out of my Dick Francis books.
Soon you go back to the coast, another dirt road and eventually the actual Great Ocean Road leading up to the Cape Otway light house. A track runs alongside it with the occasional shriveled blackberry. I ate one or two but they weren't ripe yet.
I should have, perhaps, walked to Blanket bay from Apollo Bay, joining those to legs and just doing the single one today so that I would have time to explore the light house. Since I reached it around four o'clock it was too late to enter. Stopped into the souvenir shop and bought a cold drink, the lady in there telling me rather severely to leave my pack outside, after explaining in more mollified tones that pack-packers tend to break things a lot. It is worth noting that this shop does sell camping gas and a few meals which might be helpful on the 8 day hike to stop you having to carry quite so much on the first three days.
The camp site is about ten minutes walk away, higher up in the hills, hidden by tall bushes. Again deserted. Already quite cold I set up camp and settled in for the night. The campground was made up of sand like soil making pitching the tent a breeze.
Day 3- Cape Otway to Johanna Beach - 25.1 Km 30/02/2013
Another first. I've read what to do if its raining when you wake, how to pack up camp without getting everything wet and have been waiting to see how I do. The morning shower wasn't heavy by Australian standards, just enough to ruin my stuff if I didn't have it packed away quickly. I did as much as I could in the tent. Then I carried everything I could the fifty or so meters to the shelter before returning to dismantle the tent itself. My guide book on hiking tells me to use the camping poles to prop up the outer flap while dismantling the actual tent beneath so that it remains protected by the rain. The hiking poles, however, did not keep up the flap very well and soon collapsed which meant the sand stuck instantly to the nights condensation.
It took longer, nearly an hour and a half to pack all my stuff away and I left the campsite a little worried about time. My food drop up was at 4:30pm at Johanna Beach and I left the campsite at 9:30 which gave me seven hours to walk the 25 odd kms. To try to speed me up I allowed myself an hour of music from my ipod which was very nearly out of battery, my choice I confess been the lion king. Not high brow I know but lively and fun. I switched to my mp3 player, whose batteries were equally low, in the hop e I could squeeze a few hours of Dick Francis' melancholy before it went flat.
The path continued to be enclosed for a few more kilometers, rising higher up above the sea. As on previous days I avoided the beech options and remained high on the cliff tops. Rugged and dramatic I wanted and the land around me was stunning, cliffs breaking up the landscape where the land had decades ago collapsed into the sea. Below which the waves crashed with frightening force. The bushes were coarse with deceptively bare soil underneath. The occasional movement suggested a passing wallaby or kangaroo but all stayed out of site.
I reached Aire River at half eleven. After crossing the river the drive in campsite stretches along the water banks and the walk in campground is above. Again I was glad I'd decided to do the two stretches at once. I still had five hours to get to the food drop point so pausing I ate some lunch.
From this point a sign warned me that there was maintenance and machinery on the path ahead. About 7 or 8 workers were stretched over about a kilometer or two ahead, cutting the sides back and tidying the path. All stopped and smiled or greeted me as I past. Pretending that I'd not been listening to my audiobook I returned to greeting, thanked them and hurried on.
Then came the rain. At first it wasn't a great deal, as the afternoon wore on, it fell with increased vigor. From leaving the camp the sky had been cast over and it had threatened to pour for some hours. Half wanted to face a thunderstorm, the other was well aware how woefully by sack was prepared for it. My electronics were protected, the rest of my stuff however would have to rely on the packs protection. By about 2:30pm the rain had gotten considerably worse and, exposed to the sea, blew straight into my face. I was soaked through and my shorts were hanging low enough over my bum to nearly be fashionable- if I'd been an adolescent male.
Squealing as I lost my footing I relied on my hiking poles to keep me on my feet. The gradients on the second leg of the days walk had become steeper and with streams now flowing down them they were treacherously slippy. On the final decent to Johanna Beach in particular I was leaning on the poles as if my life depended on it. If I fell not only would I be covered with mud but probably slip a dozen or so meters before mannaging to stop myself. The path at this point was seriously steep and the streams gushing down it half a foot in depth. When I could I remained on the slightly harder sides of the path but near the end I was forced to wade through the water itself. I must have covered about a kilometer an hour.
It was during the decent the Mp3 finally gave out, yet the earphones remained in my ears till I reached camp, my hands fixed to my hiking poles and concentration on the path. Although hard and intimidating these last three hours were exhilarating. I only hoped that my sleeping back at least had escaped the drenching.
Relieved as I was to have reached the bottom of the slope I found the beach scarier. Even rushing I reached it half an hour or so before high tide and the water was rising fast. Moreover behind me was a stream blocking any escape I might attempt if I did become trapped. The waves on this coast line left no allusion to the power which the tides would hold, and with a backpack I'd be helpless. Even if I discarded all my equipment I'm not a good enough swimmer to tackle that sea. With a new surge of energy I quickened my pace, determined to get off the beach as quickly as I could. The sand however was soft and I was barely covering two km an hour. At every possible inlet l looked for a path up and away.
A sand dune, although not clearly a path, had hundreds of foot print leading up it. Unsure now that I'd not missed the camp, and seeing that the sea had reached the rocks ahead of me and was crashing against the side of the cliffs I decided to climb the dune and check. Once I'd struggled to the top it was evident that the footprints belonged to carefree explorers and there was no path higher up. Climbing it I'd fallen twice, my feet sinking over a foot and the gradient somewhere between (I'm guessing) 35-40 decrees. So covered in sand, and a bit fed up, I went back to the beach. It was when coming down I realised I could run, flat footed due to the softness of the sand, down the dune. Even with the backpack I could hit a fair speed and it felt like I was jumping of a bouncy castle- worth the climb if there had been more time.
Water was spraying off the rocks as I reached them, the rain even heavier and my hopes of having a dry night equally sodden. The beach on the other side of the rocks, that turned out to be barely ten meters across, was considerable larger and my fears of been drowned were relieved. A hundred meters from the rocks however I searched for my map and found it must have fallen from my pocket. Unsure on whether to turn back and look for it, crossing back over the quickly dissapearing rocks, or head on a rely on signs. I chose a compromised, I'd look a few hundred meters back, no further. I left my backpack on the beach. Luckily my search took only a few minutes, the map lying just on the other side of the rocks.
It fluttered into my mind that I could get the food drop off service to give me a lift back to the hostel. There wasn't a doubt that I would be in for a hell of a night which I could easily escape.
Finally the path stood out five or so hundred meters ahead.The drive in camp site stretches quite a way back, at lease eight or so hundred meters. I saw the G.O.R. shuttle van half way up the street, he signaled to carry on walking while he turned and we met at the entrance to the campsite. He gave me my food, didn't offer a lift back and I didn't request it. Before leaving he pointed to a far off fence leading to a steep path up the far hill- the walk in camp site was another kilometer from there.
Another torrent of water was flowing down but since my boots were now wet through the problem was more the slipperiness. From the plastic bag full of food I now had I searched out the largest supply of chocolate and swallowed it feverishly in attempt to summon a little more energy and comfort myself. I was exhausted. Already I'd made up my mind that, if the campsite was deserted like the others, I'd set up camp in the shelter itself in an attempt to shield myself a little from the weather.
On a sunny day the Johanna Beach hike in campsite would have been a real joy, a highlight of the walk. Its high up above the sea giving you panaramic views of the entire coastline. Far below a haze devideds the hills and inlets, created by the crashing waves against the rocks. It was one of the most spectacular views on the entire walk, and the tent pods were positioned so all you'd need do is open the flap to appreciate it. If I had a chance to revisit a certain campsite it would be this one.
I dumped my stuff on the shelter's table and checking that I was in fact alone peeled my wet clothing off and put on the dry. That was the one waterproof thing I had, a small 4 liter waterproof sack for my clothing I kept on the outside of my rucksack. Now that my body was cooling, and the evening was approaching, I had to stump my feet to prevent to keep warm. The winds comes straight from the Artantic and in such a high point your left exposed. Unpacking I discovered that half of my sleeping bad was soaked, as was my mattress, and the rest of my stuff. All the pockets in my backpack were full, about a hundred millimeters each, of water.
I put on my dry socks and a sandwich bag on each to prevent them from getting dirty and wet. My shoes were squeezed and stood upside down on the bench. Then I tackled the tent which was a challenge in itself. The ground of the shelter was concrete making my tent pegs useless. I'd have rather slept outside than gone back out in the rain.Thank god I had the rope, I'd only bought it a day before leaving because enough books told me I should. I tied as much as I could to the shelter pillars, table legs and bench. It wasn't torte but it stood. I put all my food and everything that wasn't dripping inside and as advised climbed straight into the sleeping back in the hope my body would dry it before the temperature fell. Because of the sleeping bag was wet not damp all that I managed to achieve what that the clothes I wore, which were dry, were now also wet. So much for the scorching Australian summer that would defeat the poor English girl, might have well stayed at home and enjoyed the rainy weather there. In a mood by that point, the novelty of the challenge gone, I got back out of the tent and cooked some food. I made some instant mash as first, after something quick and comforting, and then cooked the actual meal of couscous and lamb. Fort he rest of the evening I boiled a few mugs full of water and held, blew and drunk it to try to prevent me from shivering.
Rain finally stopped and the sky cleared as twilight fell. I left my shelter, got water, went to the toilet and took my camera from it's protective sandwich bag.
Not wanting to get my clothes wet again by getting back into the sleeping bag I put my rain coat back on and opened the exposure blanket. It came as part of my first aid kit for use in an emergency while waiting for rescue. It crumbled like tin foil as I opened it and wouldn't have saved a thing. I stuffed it in anyway and as night fell completely closed the sleeping bag around my head, my body completely emerged and as deep into it as I could go to try to get away from the wettest part near the mouth of the sleeping bag. After two or so hours of shivering I decided to use the last few hours of my ipod and played first Guilbert and Sullivan's Pirates of Penzance and then a little Merry Poppins. I caught an hour or so of sleep before my legs crampt, they needed to stretch but were curled to me for warmth. The tent wasn't torte and condensation began to drip on me, the rain coat prevented moisture from evaporating, trapping it against my skin and as it cooled making my clothes wet . Hardly as bad as those trapped in the North Pole or drinking urine out in the bush but a pretty rotten night nonetheless. The sun seem to take and age before rising.
Day 4- Johanna Beach to Ryans Den - 13.8 Kilometres 01/02/2013
I slept perhaps two hours in short intervals till I glimpsed day light. When I climbed out my fingers were still shriveled with water. Nothing had dried and would weight much more that day because of it. My legs were stiff beyond belief and my back wouldn't even acknowledge my backpack, which still sat dripping on the shelters bench. Moreover my admiration for survivalist like Bear Grills had turned to consternation that anyone would by choice leave a dry tent behind and sleep outside in the cold. I could barely get through a Australian summer night because of a little rain.
I made myself porridge and considered my next move. I was tempted to walk the next two days worth in one, and if the weather continued to get worse push on to the end and see if I could phone for a lift from there. The weather forecast predicted a thunderstorm but I hoped that it had struck yesterday, arriving early and leaving today to the sun. It would be thirty of so kilometers to the twelve apostles which, theoretically, I could do by five o'clock. I kept my phone on that day in the hope of finding signal so that I could phone G.O.R. shuttle and arrange for them to pick me up ahead of schedule.
I used the plastic bag the food drop had been made with to waterproof my sleeping bag, two of the larger ones to cover my mattress. The tent was as wet as the bag was so I didn't bother with them. If the weather improved I'd hopefully reach camp in time to dry some of it and have good night sleep.
I placed a fresh pair of plastic bags over my socks and cringing inserted into my shoes. Once walking though they were they were fine. Even my wet backpack didn't bother me much and as my body warmed up my hands finally dried and I could enjoy the walk.
From the campsite you follow the spine of the hills inland across golden fields, dry from the previous months lack of rain. They were gentle mounds, a river curved like a snake in the valley bellow. They reminded me, with the forest in the distance between the hills on either side, of the 'The Princess Bride'.
From the hills the track heads in past houses and through farm land. One charitable person offered free water to hikers at their front garden gate. Eventually you head back west and down to the sea for a hundred or so meters. Before attempting the climb I took out my cooker and made myself some noodles, using my body to shield the flame from the wind. A few droplets fell threatening a repeat performance of last night but my luck held. I thought the camp was near the beach. I'd misread the map though and still had about two hours of walking to go. At this point I knew I wouldn't never have mannaged the three days worth of walking in one.
Then blackberries. Four or so kilometers of nothing but blackberries and sea views. They were the juiciest and largest I've ever picked and I gorged myself on them till I felt sick. The hills were no problem since I split it up into bushes, only climbing a few feet when I'd taken all the berried in reach where I stood. It made the day. I was so grateful I had had no escape route the night before, since it made me appreciate everything so much more today.
I also met my first short-nosed echidna (spiny anteater) hidden in the edge beside the path. A beautiful elegant nose with an impressive array of spikes a little like the English edge hog but much large and longer faced. Then shortly after I reached the Ryan's Den Campsite. I found it wonderfully deserted and sunny. I used the rope to create a clothes line and after raising my tent spread everything on every flat clean surface I could find. There was even enough light to recharge, using my solar re-charger, my MP3 player to give me half an hour of power. Not wanting to be far from my sleeping bag, at hand to grab it and shove it in the tent if it showered, I sprawled near by and basked in the sun. Thinking of very little I lay listening to the rustling in the foliage around, a kangaroo once in a while bounced across the clearing, another echidna wondered past burying its head in the ground every time it sensed me looking.
Later three men hiked in, all over fifty. We exchanged greetings and they moved on to set up camp. It was the first time I'd shared a campsite on any hike and it made me feel a little exposed. I took down my bras rather sharpish, especially the one covered in dirt and drying a nasty brownish colour. It soon, however, became evident that they were lovely. I fell asleep by seven so saw little of them. My sleeping bag was dry, my matress fully inflated, my clothes warm and the tent fully raised. I was in heaven.
Day 5- Ryan's Den to Devil's Kitchen- 12.8 Kilometers 02/03/2013
Slept in till eight having clocked over twelve hours sleep. While my aches had gotten worse I was warm and nearing the end. One more night. Taking no chances I once more waterproofed everything I could but the rain stayed away. My three gentlemen left before me which I was grateful since it meant they'd be unable to over take me. I planned to take my time today.
Along this stretch of the walk I saw my first snake, a thick brown one. Not having had anything to listen to I'd been a well behaved hiker, my poles pretecting me in part and eyes peeled. Yet when this particular snake came across my path I was still eating my nuts and grumbling, the hiking poles tucked beneath my arms. Luckily the snake had more wit than me and got out of my way. Within the next five hundred meters I saw two more, these ones black and long.
Once I reached the cable look out however I met them again, obviously not only me finding the going tough, and there too w
here my three gentlemen. We talked for a while before parting ways again, them taking the Wreck Beach route, I going inland.
When the campsite came it was out of nowhere. Estimating that I had another hour or so it was a surprise when the shelter rose above me. Because the track inland is newer than the hike in site, and the older trail went along the sea front before backtracking to the camp ground, I entered the campground through the back. The best site, if you get there first, is on the highest point where a bench looks over the ocean. The couple were already in place in each others arms bathing in the sun. Wheres a tsunami when you need one?
I settled further down in a more sheltered area near the entrance. The ground was hard so I bend my remainder pegs getting my tent up. It didn't bother me a jot knowing that tomorrow I'd be sleeping on the train and then in a hostel in Sydney. With this in mind I made myself a shower, hanging my spare water bladder from a tree and standing beneath it, keeping a sharp look out for the three gentlemen who's not yet arrived. I even managed to shave.
Spent the rest of the afternoon dozing and reading, moving as little as I could manage. Later on on the the gentlemen wondered over and invited me to join them for wine and cheese, I agreed and although I'd already eaten and didn't feel like drinking sat and talked to them for an hour or so. This was a taster of what I imaged the campgrounds would be like, more communial and a sharing place to boast your hiking adventures to people who'd share your interest. These men however were several leagues above me having done this for decades. They were marvelous and I wanted to live my own version of their lives, cycling across Europe, traveling around the world, hiking in Tasmania, New Zealand and completing trails such as the Camilo de Santiago. Two were retired engineers and the other a orthobedic sergean who still volunteered every year in parts of Africa. Real characters, obviously intimate friends and passionate about the things they did.
Day 6 - Devil's Kitchen to Gibson's Steps- 14.8 kilometres
I've no idea why but I woke up and my legs were as fresh as the first day. Perhaps yesterday was spend recovering from the day before and lying around all afternoon did the trick. It was as if I'd not walked the last five days. My shoulders were less happy but the pack now was light and I felt energies and sorry that it was ending. My lift was meeting me at 1:00pm and since I left camp by half seven I had plenty of time. My three gentlemen said they might also be catching the same lift so bidding them goodbye I exchanged numbers so that they could contact me if necessary.
That day's stretch was mostly level with only a few minor inclines. Easy and after the river you're practically at Gibson's steps. It took, in the end, only four hours to complete and I reached the end point by half eleven. From this point, I was a little dissapointed to find, you can only see the very first of the apostles. Not knowing how far the others were I daren't go further. Instead I climbed down the steps to the dramatic beach full of other tourists. The car park above was nearly full and it felt very slightly strange to have so many people around me. It's not the same for them though, they didn't walk a hundred kilometers to be there and as I walked along the beach I felt slightly apart from them. No doubt by car they'd see things much more dramatic, and a larger variation, and in such a amount that this beach was but a pit stop.
Gibson's steps lacks the jaw dropping beauty I wanted at the end of the hike but, as the shuttle driver kindle showed me, if you cross the road and walk barely five or so hundred kilometers further down the twelve apostles are waiting. The walk as a whole is a beautiful journey going through rainforests, beaches, farm land, and fields. Its more about the contrasts between them than any particular destination.
My three gentlemen did catch a ride back in the same shuttle and I accepted off them a lift back to Melbourne from Apollo Bay. I think it's the ride back, when someones driving you sixty odd kilometers an hour that pride begins to sink it. When I reached the car park at Gibson's steps I felt ready to walk another five or so kilometers, it didn't feel like it should have ended here (on a side not the track is been extended in the next few years) and I'd not accomplished what I'd hoped to- not broken any of my limits. It was easy, in the sun and waiting for my lift, to forget the damp night and the day before. But as I sat, for over an hour, watching the landscape I walked flash past I felt true pride. Even though I knew the distance I didn't expect it to take to long to get back, and I had to fight back a clownish smile rising to my lips in front of the other passengers- who having done this for years felt none of the same goofy satisfaction. It doesn't matter that hundreds perform the same hike every year, thousands, that some run it and others can do in a couple of days. You feel as if you've accomplished something special, irrespective of anyone else. No self doubt, you completed something you weren't knew you could do, and because you did your excited to do something even longer and harder.
The Great Ocean Walk was opened 7 years ago and runs from Apollo Bay to Glenample, just before the Twelve Apostles at Gibson's car park. While some crazy people run the return journey in a day most take a more leisurely route walking it between six to eight days east to west. The eight day itinerary is a bit too easy, some days consist of less than ten kilometres, meaning that you finish the walk before lunch time. Then again, if you wished to do a few side tracks, explore the land around the track or simple get away from everything, this might be the better plan. Each night costs twenty dollars for the camp site however and the idea of carrying eight days worth of food wasn't an attractive one. I chose the six days and five nights option. It involved an easy first day of ten or so kilometres followed by two days harder days, after which the itinerary is the same as the other one.
Day 1- Apollo Bay to Elliot Ridge 10.3 Kilometres 28/01/2013
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| Official Start of Walk- Apollo Bay |
Shifting my rucksack uncomfortably as I got use to the weight, I walked down to the official start point. Took the needed photograph with me pointing to where I was on the map and prepared to get started. Within a hundred meters I realized I still had the hostel door key and walked the ten minutes back to the to return it.
Back at the start I made my way through the town. I had to consult my map quite a bit to check, the signs aren't at every corner, but so long as your on the road nearest the sea your on the right track.
I slowly crossed from the town to farm land, my backpack already giving me grief. For the first five kms there were houses scattered across the landscape, the path easy with the feel of a country lane, pleasant but not yet exciting.
The path entered a more forested area, rising and falling. Reached a car park and picnic area where I stopped and had a bite but eager to get on I followed the path down to sea level again, crossed the stream and began to climb on the other side. I reached camp at about 2:00pm and after setting up camp stood around and wondered what I should do for the rest of the day. Decided to take a stroll around the place. Promptly got lost and got back at around 5ish tired. The camp was completely deserted. I'd expected it to hold at least a few other hikers but it turns out I was a week too late and everyone had gone home. The camp site was a lot like the ones in Queensland, consisting of a large wooden shelter, toilets, two large water tanks and camping tables. Very pretty and well worked into the landscape. Hard soil though and my tent pegs were instantly bent which boded well for the rest of the week.
Day 2 - Elliot Ridge to Cape Otway - 24.7 Kilometres 29/02/2013
A sound woke me up three times night. Some sort of animal loud and close to my tent. The log book, present at each campsite for hikers to write notes it, talked of a strange monster they'd heard but not seen which had haunted their campsite. Sense told me that the dangerous things in Australia didn't make loud noises, were in fact quite small and could not break into tents. It was also a sound I recognized but couldn't place. Hard to put it down on paper in words, 'huckhuckhuck khaaaaaaaaa' noise is the closest I can get. It was as if some large creature was struggling to take in air and release it as he dragged its axe towards my sleeping helpless form. Sense is all very well in day light. Then on the third occasion I realised what it was. A koala bear was obviously in the tree above me. Grinning and feeling like a true bush girl I rolled over a fell straight back to sleep. Woke up later than I'd planned and packed up my camp in my usual hour. Saw my night's companion up in a tree before leaving, still calling out.
The road eventually turns onto another track, a really pretty path canopied by trees and bushes. Still very easy terrain making a really idilic and peaceful walk. My companion audio book today was Dick Francis' 'Blood Sports' a rather dark crime novel about depression, a bit more morose than I expect out of my Dick Francis books.
I should have, perhaps, walked to Blanket bay from Apollo Bay, joining those to legs and just doing the single one today so that I would have time to explore the light house. Since I reached it around four o'clock it was too late to enter. Stopped into the souvenir shop and bought a cold drink, the lady in there telling me rather severely to leave my pack outside, after explaining in more mollified tones that pack-packers tend to break things a lot. It is worth noting that this shop does sell camping gas and a few meals which might be helpful on the 8 day hike to stop you having to carry quite so much on the first three days.
The camp site is about ten minutes walk away, higher up in the hills, hidden by tall bushes. Again deserted. Already quite cold I set up camp and settled in for the night. The campground was made up of sand like soil making pitching the tent a breeze.
Day 3- Cape Otway to Johanna Beach - 25.1 Km 30/02/2013
Another first. I've read what to do if its raining when you wake, how to pack up camp without getting everything wet and have been waiting to see how I do. The morning shower wasn't heavy by Australian standards, just enough to ruin my stuff if I didn't have it packed away quickly. I did as much as I could in the tent. Then I carried everything I could the fifty or so meters to the shelter before returning to dismantle the tent itself. My guide book on hiking tells me to use the camping poles to prop up the outer flap while dismantling the actual tent beneath so that it remains protected by the rain. The hiking poles, however, did not keep up the flap very well and soon collapsed which meant the sand stuck instantly to the nights condensation.
The path continued to be enclosed for a few more kilometers, rising higher up above the sea. As on previous days I avoided the beech options and remained high on the cliff tops. Rugged and dramatic I wanted and the land around me was stunning, cliffs breaking up the landscape where the land had decades ago collapsed into the sea. Below which the waves crashed with frightening force. The bushes were coarse with deceptively bare soil underneath. The occasional movement suggested a passing wallaby or kangaroo but all stayed out of site.
I reached Aire River at half eleven. After crossing the river the drive in campsite stretches along the water banks and the walk in campground is above. Again I was glad I'd decided to do the two stretches at once. I still had five hours to get to the food drop point so pausing I ate some lunch.
From this point a sign warned me that there was maintenance and machinery on the path ahead. About 7 or 8 workers were stretched over about a kilometer or two ahead, cutting the sides back and tidying the path. All stopped and smiled or greeted me as I past. Pretending that I'd not been listening to my audiobook I returned to greeting, thanked them and hurried on.
Then came the rain. At first it wasn't a great deal, as the afternoon wore on, it fell with increased vigor. From leaving the camp the sky had been cast over and it had threatened to pour for some hours. Half wanted to face a thunderstorm, the other was well aware how woefully by sack was prepared for it. My electronics were protected, the rest of my stuff however would have to rely on the packs protection. By about 2:30pm the rain had gotten considerably worse and, exposed to the sea, blew straight into my face. I was soaked through and my shorts were hanging low enough over my bum to nearly be fashionable- if I'd been an adolescent male.
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| Aire River |
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| Just before the rain really set in, five or so kilometers from Aire River |
Relieved as I was to have reached the bottom of the slope I found the beach scarier. Even rushing I reached it half an hour or so before high tide and the water was rising fast. Moreover behind me was a stream blocking any escape I might attempt if I did become trapped. The waves on this coast line left no allusion to the power which the tides would hold, and with a backpack I'd be helpless. Even if I discarded all my equipment I'm not a good enough swimmer to tackle that sea. With a new surge of energy I quickened my pace, determined to get off the beach as quickly as I could. The sand however was soft and I was barely covering two km an hour. At every possible inlet l looked for a path up and away.
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| A few kilometers from Aire River- Stitched Photograph |
Water was spraying off the rocks as I reached them, the rain even heavier and my hopes of having a dry night equally sodden. The beach on the other side of the rocks, that turned out to be barely ten meters across, was considerable larger and my fears of been drowned were relieved. A hundred meters from the rocks however I searched for my map and found it must have fallen from my pocket. Unsure on whether to turn back and look for it, crossing back over the quickly dissapearing rocks, or head on a rely on signs. I chose a compromised, I'd look a few hundred meters back, no further. I left my backpack on the beach. Luckily my search took only a few minutes, the map lying just on the other side of the rocks.
It fluttered into my mind that I could get the food drop off service to give me a lift back to the hostel. There wasn't a doubt that I would be in for a hell of a night which I could easily escape.
Finally the path stood out five or so hundred meters ahead.The drive in camp site stretches quite a way back, at lease eight or so hundred meters. I saw the G.O.R. shuttle van half way up the street, he signaled to carry on walking while he turned and we met at the entrance to the campsite. He gave me my food, didn't offer a lift back and I didn't request it. Before leaving he pointed to a far off fence leading to a steep path up the far hill- the walk in camp site was another kilometer from there.
Another torrent of water was flowing down but since my boots were now wet through the problem was more the slipperiness. From the plastic bag full of food I now had I searched out the largest supply of chocolate and swallowed it feverishly in attempt to summon a little more energy and comfort myself. I was exhausted. Already I'd made up my mind that, if the campsite was deserted like the others, I'd set up camp in the shelter itself in an attempt to shield myself a little from the weather.
On a sunny day the Johanna Beach hike in campsite would have been a real joy, a highlight of the walk. Its high up above the sea giving you panaramic views of the entire coastline. Far below a haze devideds the hills and inlets, created by the crashing waves against the rocks. It was one of the most spectacular views on the entire walk, and the tent pods were positioned so all you'd need do is open the flap to appreciate it. If I had a chance to revisit a certain campsite it would be this one.
I dumped my stuff on the shelter's table and checking that I was in fact alone peeled my wet clothing off and put on the dry. That was the one waterproof thing I had, a small 4 liter waterproof sack for my clothing I kept on the outside of my rucksack. Now that my body was cooling, and the evening was approaching, I had to stump my feet to prevent to keep warm. The winds comes straight from the Artantic and in such a high point your left exposed. Unpacking I discovered that half of my sleeping bad was soaked, as was my mattress, and the rest of my stuff. All the pockets in my backpack were full, about a hundred millimeters each, of water.
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| Johanna Beach Shelter, and camp |
Rain finally stopped and the sky cleared as twilight fell. I left my shelter, got water, went to the toilet and took my camera from it's protective sandwich bag.
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| View from Johanna Beach Hike in Camp ground at twilight |
Not wanting to get my clothes wet again by getting back into the sleeping bag I put my rain coat back on and opened the exposure blanket. It came as part of my first aid kit for use in an emergency while waiting for rescue. It crumbled like tin foil as I opened it and wouldn't have saved a thing. I stuffed it in anyway and as night fell completely closed the sleeping bag around my head, my body completely emerged and as deep into it as I could go to try to get away from the wettest part near the mouth of the sleeping bag. After two or so hours of shivering I decided to use the last few hours of my ipod and played first Guilbert and Sullivan's Pirates of Penzance and then a little Merry Poppins. I caught an hour or so of sleep before my legs crampt, they needed to stretch but were curled to me for warmth. The tent wasn't torte and condensation began to drip on me, the rain coat prevented moisture from evaporating, trapping it against my skin and as it cooled making my clothes wet . Hardly as bad as those trapped in the North Pole or drinking urine out in the bush but a pretty rotten night nonetheless. The sun seem to take and age before rising.
Day 4- Johanna Beach to Ryans Den - 13.8 Kilometres 01/02/2013
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| Fingers shriveled from the night |
I slept perhaps two hours in short intervals till I glimpsed day light. When I climbed out my fingers were still shriveled with water. Nothing had dried and would weight much more that day because of it. My legs were stiff beyond belief and my back wouldn't even acknowledge my backpack, which still sat dripping on the shelters bench. Moreover my admiration for survivalist like Bear Grills had turned to consternation that anyone would by choice leave a dry tent behind and sleep outside in the cold. I could barely get through a Australian summer night because of a little rain.
I made myself porridge and considered my next move. I was tempted to walk the next two days worth in one, and if the weather continued to get worse push on to the end and see if I could phone for a lift from there. The weather forecast predicted a thunderstorm but I hoped that it had struck yesterday, arriving early and leaving today to the sun. It would be thirty of so kilometers to the twelve apostles which, theoretically, I could do by five o'clock. I kept my phone on that day in the hope of finding signal so that I could phone G.O.R. shuttle and arrange for them to pick me up ahead of schedule.
I used the plastic bag the food drop had been made with to waterproof my sleeping bag, two of the larger ones to cover my mattress. The tent was as wet as the bag was so I didn't bother with them. If the weather improved I'd hopefully reach camp in time to dry some of it and have good night sleep.
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| Morning view from Johanna Beach Hike in Campsite |
From the campsite you follow the spine of the hills inland across golden fields, dry from the previous months lack of rain. They were gentle mounds, a river curved like a snake in the valley bellow. They reminded me, with the forest in the distance between the hills on either side, of the 'The Princess Bride'.
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| An hour or so from Johanna Beach campsite |
From the hills the track heads in past houses and through farm land. One charitable person offered free water to hikers at their front garden gate. Eventually you head back west and down to the sea for a hundred or so meters. Before attempting the climb I took out my cooker and made myself some noodles, using my body to shield the flame from the wind. A few droplets fell threatening a repeat performance of last night but my luck held. I thought the camp was near the beach. I'd misread the map though and still had about two hours of walking to go. At this point I knew I wouldn't never have mannaged the three days worth of walking in one. Then blackberries. Four or so kilometers of nothing but blackberries and sea views. They were the juiciest and largest I've ever picked and I gorged myself on them till I felt sick. The hills were no problem since I split it up into bushes, only climbing a few feet when I'd taken all the berried in reach where I stood. It made the day. I was so grateful I had had no escape route the night before, since it made me appreciate everything so much more today.I also met my first short-nosed echidna (spiny anteater) hidden in the edge beside the path. A beautiful elegant nose with an impressive array of spikes a little like the English edge hog but much large and longer faced. Then shortly after I reached the Ryan's Den Campsite. I found it wonderfully deserted and sunny. I used the rope to create a clothes line and after raising my tent spread everything on every flat clean surface I could find. There was even enough light to recharge, using my solar re-charger, my MP3 player to give me half an hour of power. Not wanting to be far from my sleeping bag, at hand to grab it and shove it in the tent if it showered, I sprawled near by and basked in the sun. Thinking of very little I lay listening to the rustling in the foliage around, a kangaroo once in a while bounced across the clearing, another echidna wondered past burying its head in the ground every time it sensed me looking.
Day 5- Ryan's Den to Devil's Kitchen- 12.8 Kilometers 02/03/2013
Slept in till eight having clocked over twelve hours sleep. While my aches had gotten worse I was warm and nearing the end. One more night. Taking no chances I once more waterproofed everything I could but the rain stayed away. My three gentlemen left before me which I was grateful since it meant they'd be unable to over take me. I planned to take my time today.
I was told after that this was the hardest day on the hike and I did struggle. No extensive climbs as such just many, the track dipping up and down galleys every kilometer or so. My legs were no longer up for it. My heart fell every time the land descended again knowing what would come after. A young couple past me and were far ahead as soon as we reached our next climb. Eating more nuts I suppressed slight feelings of jealousy over their partnership, reminding myself that I loved hiking alone.
Along this stretch of the walk I saw my first snake, a thick brown one. Not having had anything to listen to I'd been a well behaved hiker, my poles pretecting me in part and eyes peeled. Yet when this particular snake came across my path I was still eating my nuts and grumbling, the hiking poles tucked beneath my arms. Luckily the snake had more wit than me and got out of my way. Within the next five hundred meters I saw two more, these ones black and long.
Once I reached the cable look out however I met them again, obviously not only me finding the going tough, and there too w
here my three gentlemen. We talked for a while before parting ways again, them taking the Wreck Beach route, I going inland.
When the campsite came it was out of nowhere. Estimating that I had another hour or so it was a surprise when the shelter rose above me. Because the track inland is newer than the hike in site, and the older trail went along the sea front before backtracking to the camp ground, I entered the campground through the back. The best site, if you get there first, is on the highest point where a bench looks over the ocean. The couple were already in place in each others arms bathing in the sun. Wheres a tsunami when you need one?I settled further down in a more sheltered area near the entrance. The ground was hard so I bend my remainder pegs getting my tent up. It didn't bother me a jot knowing that tomorrow I'd be sleeping on the train and then in a hostel in Sydney. With this in mind I made myself a shower, hanging my spare water bladder from a tree and standing beneath it, keeping a sharp look out for the three gentlemen who's not yet arrived. I even managed to shave.
Spent the rest of the afternoon dozing and reading, moving as little as I could manage. Later on on the the gentlemen wondered over and invited me to join them for wine and cheese, I agreed and although I'd already eaten and didn't feel like drinking sat and talked to them for an hour or so. This was a taster of what I imaged the campgrounds would be like, more communial and a sharing place to boast your hiking adventures to people who'd share your interest. These men however were several leagues above me having done this for decades. They were marvelous and I wanted to live my own version of their lives, cycling across Europe, traveling around the world, hiking in Tasmania, New Zealand and completing trails such as the Camilo de Santiago. Two were retired engineers and the other a orthobedic sergean who still volunteered every year in parts of Africa. Real characters, obviously intimate friends and passionate about the things they did.
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| Devil's Kitchen Campsite |
Day 6 - Devil's Kitchen to Gibson's Steps- 14.8 kilometres
I've no idea why but I woke up and my legs were as fresh as the first day. Perhaps yesterday was spend recovering from the day before and lying around all afternoon did the trick. It was as if I'd not walked the last five days. My shoulders were less happy but the pack now was light and I felt energies and sorry that it was ending. My lift was meeting me at 1:00pm and since I left camp by half seven I had plenty of time. My three gentlemen said they might also be catching the same lift so bidding them goodbye I exchanged numbers so that they could contact me if necessary.
That day's stretch was mostly level with only a few minor inclines. Easy and after the river you're practically at Gibson's steps. It took, in the end, only four hours to complete and I reached the end point by half eleven. From this point, I was a little dissapointed to find, you can only see the very first of the apostles. Not knowing how far the others were I daren't go further. Instead I climbed down the steps to the dramatic beach full of other tourists. The car park above was nearly full and it felt very slightly strange to have so many people around me. It's not the same for them though, they didn't walk a hundred kilometers to be there and as I walked along the beach I felt slightly apart from them. No doubt by car they'd see things much more dramatic, and a larger variation, and in such a amount that this beach was but a pit stop.
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| Gibson's Steps, the image is distorted, the beach flat but it does give a good impression of the size of it. |
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| Looking back towards Gibson Steps |
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