Guilt trip

Came back from South America (Chile, Argentina, Antarctica, Uruguay, Brazil) on Tuesday morning and that evening held a meeting for the 3-day Green Walks hike, Brooklyn to Somersby. A part of me feels my time might be better spent sorting through my photos and finishing my diary (I kid myself that I write on planes—I never do any serious writing) over the Easter long weekend but I'd promised a friend I'd host the hike so there I am, talking to the walkers and figuring out an inventory.

It turns out my friend, Rahima, is injured and won't be coming but now I've met with everyone else who has RSVPed I have an obligation to do it for them. The weather looks a bit dodgy—rain on Thursday and patchy on Friday—but Saturday and Sunday look all right so it's on.

The period between Tuesday evening and Friday morning sweeps by like a clock wipe on a movie screen and I find myself legging it to Ashfield Station on Friday morning, afraid that I am late. If I am late we have to call the whole thing off because the water taxi from Brooklyn to Patonga will only pick us up at 9am and the trains to Hawkesbury River Station only go once an hour. I make it and still feel like maybe I've made a mistake and should be home spending time with Boff. And yet we've spent almost 24 hours a day with each other for the 30 days of our trip, maybe we need a break?

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DAY 1
One of our party misses the train and needs to drop out, so there's only three of us, the bare minimum, to do the walk. We board the boat to Patonga and it's a lovely 10-minute ride across the Hawkesbury River. It occurs to me that if I had my camera and if this had been another place, ie not just outside of my city, I would've taken photos all the way: of the pelicans roosting on the boat posts, the beautiful water views and their surrounding hills.

We head off from Patonga, along the waterline at first and then up the cliff that offers stunning, sparkling vistas both of the terrific weather with which we've been blessed and the natural beauty of the river and its surrounds.

The day goes by quickly. I've walked with Sonia before but know nothing about Kirsten (who, incidentally has asked around about me and apparently discovered only my good reputation). We chat and sympathise and make jokes.

Even after what I'd consider to be a lengthy lunch on top of a windy peak we arrive at our campsite just after 2pm, at a loss at how to fill our afternoon. We unpack and set up camp. The other two laze while I check out the Mt Wondabyne pathway, which gives an excellent panorama of the waterside suburbs as well as the rolling hills to the west. Again, I can't help feeling I'm being blase about the incredible beauty of the place. Sans camera I'm just agog rather than a person making a careful record of the scene. "Stick it in your memory hole," I might say to myself if I were in the mood to seem a little mad (mostly I hide it pretty well to see who's smart enough to find it).

We make dinner at 6pm and then at 6.45pm I bring them up to the peak to show them the sunset (the good one I prepared earlier). It's true that the sun sinks a lot quicker near the equator; I actually see it plop behind the horizon when it sets. When twilight sets in we brush our teeth and say our goodnights—nothing more to do or say for the day.

In the middle of the night, which is to say around 2am, I wake up to go to the bathroom. I at first mistake the time for pre-dawn as there's a grey light that enables me to see the inside of the tent. I hold onto the hope that my bladder can hang on until morning but after establishing the actual time I unzip, unzip and unzip myself from my cocoon to find that the sky is so clear and the moon is so bright that I don't need a torch. I turn on the torch anyway because the last thing you want at 2am is to pee on yourself because you were looking at the moon and not the ground.

DAY 2
The second day begins with a resplendent sunrise over the waterside neighbourhoods, which we view at a distance as we pack up camp. We have a long day ahead, well, longer than the previous day (6 hours according to the notes) and rougher terrain to cover. Our next water stop is Kariong Brook Falls. Fortunately I have almost 2L remaining having carried more than usua; after a bad experience at Mt Solitary just before Christmas taught me a lesson about relying on creeks. We decide to pack and have breakfast at the falls so we can drink tea without having to carry the water.

In deference to the fact that we arrived at Mt Wondabyne so damn early we end up staying at the falls for an hour. It's better to stay at a nice spot for an hour rather than have acres of time at a dull campsite, is the new rule. Hydrated, we push on. Having come down into the valley to reach the falls, we need to climb out. Then we reach Scopas Peak. It's not as high as Mt Wondabyne but it makes us long for the falls or another way to take a dip. It's exposed up there, and we've been going for a couple of hours, so as soon as we spot some shade behind a rock wall we stop for what is nominally lunch, though I'm not as hungry as I perhaps should be.

My topo reading skills are a bit rusty (and I don't have an altimeter handy) but it looks like we're near the top anyway and shade is scarce so we make use of it while we can. As we settle, we're overtaken by two guys and encounter a dads-and-sons trip going the other way. One of the dads confirms we are very near the top so the rest of lunch feels vindicated. I don't think I've ever had a vindicated lunch before.

At about 2pm we cross a wide but shallow creek where the boys who overtook us have been (sort of) swimming. We pause to reduce our core temperature in the shady dampness. While it hasn't been blazingly hot (bureau had indicated top of 25C) the exposed parts of the walk combined with a hefty rucksack and our relentless movement northwards has driven our body heat up. It's also quite humid, which makes the heat uncomfortable.

It's not long before we cross the Phil Houghton Bridge. There's no sign on the bridge to say this is the name, but the Wildwalks notes describes it accurately enough for identification. Who knows, maybe Phil Houghton is the Wildwalks writer for this section of the walk and he noticed the bridge had no name so decided to bestow his own upon it?

The bridge crosses a very wide part of the Mooney Mooney Creek with a clearing on the other side that has been used as a campsite and an escarpment that practically begs for entry into the water. Kirsten and Sonia comply, while I'm content to remove my shoes and dip my legs in. It crosses my mind that it's amazing there are no mosquitoes or leeches, which is a thought I come to mark later on.

The last part of the second day's walk is pleasantly cool, under the canopy of trees that line the creek. At first I have a mild panic attack that we have gone the wrong way because we seem to be on the wrong bank (walking with it to our left instead of to our right as the map shows for the campsite location) but after a thorough map check and a comprehensive read of the trip notes I'm satisfied that it's because we haven't crossed the final bridge yet.

In the end it's pleasant, flat and boring: largely along a gravel road where we see a lone fisherman, some kayakers and a row of houses, some dilapidated, some prettily done up like a holiday show home. When the foliage gets dense the mosquitoes come out to play, though by the time we pull out the repellent it's too late.

Soon we reach the campsite, Mooney Mooney North having apparently missed the southern clearing, leaving a little doubt as to whether we're at the right one. Location established, we decide against a fire as too much work so set up tents next to the established fire circle. As we finish, the boys from the creek sidle up. Phil and Tim, they say. It turns out they want a fire so they spend 10 minutes gathering wood while we rethink our earlier decision and throw benefits, such as discouraging mozzies, into the mix.

I take a short hiatus in the tent while Sonia builds the ignition pyramid. The mozzies have got me everywhere, even through my clothes and I need some relief from having to fight them off at every moment. When I later check, there is an unfortunate cluster of dozens of bites along the top of my butt and the backs of my arms. Bastards.

We make dinner; soup and couscous again for me, while the boys do an elaborate pasta dish that takes three times as long to make as all of our meals combined. Although I cloak myself in the heat and smoke of the fire, my skin still crawls with the possibility of those flying bloodsuckers so I excuse myself and retire soon after nightfall. Another long, reasonably comfortable night.

DAY 3
Us girls wake at 6.45, just before dawn, and pack up camp. Our breakfast spot will be Mooney Mooney Dam, where we will take our water for the day. It's a flat start, with the only difficult terrain being a wet crossing about 50m wide where the creek flows over a rock platform.

We arrive at Mooney Mooney Dam without trouble... only to find that there are leeches along the shoreline. It's a less than comfortable breakfast, taken standing up and quicker than we intend. Once we take on board water for the day we sprinkle ourselves with tea tree oil and leave with pack covers on.

There's a little bit of undulation in the morning's path but no significant hills so we trundle along at a good pace. There's only one more difficult crossing: a creek that is supposed to be 'ephemeral' but most certainly exists. It looks too deep to cross with shoes but I dip one of Kirsten's poles in and figure it's shallow enough to barge through. It's slightly slippery from moss on the rocks but we all make it across without mishap. I love my Keens.

At the Quarry Campsite Sonia decides to find a bathroom spot and instead runs into a snake. Not literally, but close ("That's the kind of branch I would've grabbed to steady myself," she says, pointing at the yellow-specked black snake measuring around 3m draped on a small tree). I snap a photo for evidence and kudos later.

Some parts of the walk follow the management trails, which are quite boring but easy to navigate. At the end of a three-day hike it's good to not have to spend extra energy thinking about every step. Before long we find ourselves on the road and on the uphill climb to Somersby Store. We get there and despite the numerous signboards surrounding it declaring it 'open', it is closed. It's Easter Sunday after all. I call the taxi company and cancel my 1.30pm pick-up and order one for 'now' (12.45pm).

While we are waiting, the boys arrive, disappointed that the store is closed ("I was looking forward to a burger and a milkshake," says Phil). We donate the remainder of our food and water and wish them luck on the way the Yarramalong, where they will end the walk on Easter Monday. The taxi takes us to Gosford Station and the train takes us home.

All in all an easy walk to do and with enough views and nature experiences to make the boring bits worthwhile. The only drawback is the cost and inconvenience of the transfers (Brooklyn to Patonga, Somersby to Gosford). And now I start sorting through my South America photos...

The Coast Track (walk)

Otford to Bundeena on foot
Royal National Park, NSW (27-28th November, 2010)

History: The Coast Track and I
I have always, for reasons unknown to me, done this walk Bundeena to Otford. The first time I did this walk it was for the expedition hike for the bronze Duke of Edinburgh Award in 1994. We had a group of six and we camped by a beautiful stream at Curracurrang (sadly, the campsite has since been closed for regeneration). The four most distinct things I remember from that trip was: "Code red, code red, alphabet soup in the river!"; The Platform of a Million Rocks; the lovely holiday homemakers who gave us each a drink of cold water after we climbed the big hill; "it feels like you're at the end of the world".

I have since done the walk a couple more times before this recent trip; once as a practice/bonding hike before I went to Nepal in 1998, which was fairly unremarkable (in fact, I remember very little about it) and again in 2003 with Assie, Robert (my boyfriend at the time) and a couple of his friends. That trip was memorable for a couple of reasons. My friend Ross, famous for being late, had slept in and missed the rendezvous at Central Station. We caught the train and the ferry without him. But so determined was he to do the walk the he, an hour behind, caught up with us at lunchtime by running the first half of the track.

While the walk is a relatively short 26km, do-able in a day, it is best done over two days; however, we'd decided to do it in three over the Easter long weekend so we could spend more time hanging out at the beach. This involved a little bit of illegal camping at Wattamolla and legal camping at North Era (no one can tell me why it's illegal to camp at Wattamolla; it has all the amenities and some really nice, flat, grassy campsites). Unfortunately, our plans were dashed by the inclement weather: it pretty much rained the entire time and the track was muddy and/or slippery and walking in rain gear when it's still quite hot and humid is never fun.

Despite this final memory, despite knowing about the proliferation of spiky plants, and knowing how the exposed track means a hour's walk can quickly turn into sunburn, and knowing about the two massive hills, I decided I'd like to do it again.

The Proposal
Why? Because the views are stunning. Because at some parts you feel like you are the only people there. Because this is the hardest easy or the easiest hard two-day walk I know. And you barely need a map.

I started with an invitation to five other people, but we ended up with a group of three. I've never walked in such a small group before, but it turned out really well. My companions were a Dutch acquaintance, Reni, and my high school friend Gloria (with whom I want to do the Henro Michi). Both had considerable experience, which made me nervous because I hadn't done a walk for some time and therefore felt comparatively unfit.

This time I decided we'd do the walk Otford to Bundeena. This was for two reasons: someone once told me it was 'easier' to do it in that direction (I was sceptical, after all, there are just as many climbs both ways) and also I had bought camping permits for the 26th (North Era) and, since we planned to camp at Wattamolla, our excuse was going to be that we'd camped at North Era the night before but couldn't make it to Bundeena by nightfall on the second day, so decided to camp at Wattamolla instead. Naughty, I know.

Saturday
We had a disjointed start - Reni alighted the Otford train from her home station of Edgecliff, I came on at Town Hall as it was the easiest at which to change platforms, and Gloria boarded at Central after jogging from Forest Lodge (two suburbs away) after a late start - but after getting acquainted on the hour-long trip we stepped onto the track with some confidence.

The first thing that greeted us was a steep driveway-like paved track. Did I mention it was steep? At this point I realised that my new pack, bought for its versatility as backpacker luggage AND a rucksack was very much in the former category. All the weight was wrongly distributed. Nevertheless I laboured on.

The first hour or so is quite dense scrub, otherwise known as the Burning Palms section. I never really paid much attention to this bit because, having travelled from Bundeena, this was the bit that was in my way when all I wanted to do was get to the end. But it was a nice morning's walk, shady and cool, and suitably 'bush' like. The track then enters the littoral zone. The littoral zone consists of sandy parts, rather exposed areas, and spiky plants.

From Burning Palms Beach to North Era There are a fair number of holiday houses and the ground is either open or the scrub is quite low, which meant minimal spiky plant injuries but more exposure. Despite slathering ourselves in sunscreen, there was always a bit of doubt about whether we'd burn. Fortunately, a nice northern breeze reduced the heat, which made the walking temperature rather pleasant.

We met a bunch of blokes halfway up a hill wheeling down a fridge. This, my friends, is one of the drawbacks of living in a remote area only accessible on foot. Unfortunately, the very spot they'd decided to rest was right in front of a sign and the entrance to the track that we were supposed to be following. Fortunately we met another local a bit further up who we chatted to for a bit, and he led us back to the junction and set us on the right path.

There are two major hills on this walk, and they both occur around Garie Beach. The first one comes just after North Era Beach. Technically, there are two ways to get to Little Garie Beach: up and over, or around the cliff. The around the cliff option, fondly cursed as 'The Platform of a Million Rocks', has since been closed due to rock falling hazards, so up and over it had to be. It almost killed me. Evidently I was still suffering from wrongly-weighted-pack and not-as-fit-as-I'd-like-to-be syndrome.

The second one might have finished off the job had it not been for the fact that it was on the other side of (big) Garie Beach and we'd stopped at Garie Beach for lunch and Gloria bought me a Lifesaver ice block. I was also rather alarmed at the rate I was going through my water so we filled up at the amenities block (the water is not potable but I'd brought aqueous iodine to purify questionable fluid). This proved helpful for when we struggled up the second hill and rewarded ourselves with a break at the top (right).

After that it was fairly easygoing with the clifftop path fairly flat, and steel walkways making the inclines easier to handle. Two spots of interest to note, Eagle Rock (which I reckon looks more like a turtle), and Curracurrang, which I remember from the first time I did this walk. Gratefully, we stumbled into the Wattamolla picnic area (well, I stumbled, the other two strolled).

Eagle Rock looks more like a turtle

We ended up parking our tents along a pathway to Providential Cove, which was still quite grassy and clear but out of sight from the main part of the picnic area and carpark in case a ranger spotted us, despite having a cover story ready. Annoyingly, a neighbourhood of tents was set up further along, belonging to a commercial operation. So, no camping at Wattamolla unless you're prepared to pay $265?

Sunday
Had a pretty good night's sleep. I liked waking up to little birds that sung 'oi' to each other. We intended to leave at about 8.30am to catch the cool early morning walking weather but between breakfast, exploring Wattamolla and lazily packing up we ended up leaving at about 9.15am.

Wattamolla Beach

We needn't have worried. The map promised an easy, quite flat clifftop walk with very little incline and that's exactly how we found it. It was quite humid but the sky was overcast, which made for a cooler day and it sprinkled on and off as we walked. It took 90 minutes to get to Marley Beach. We weren't too hungry or tired but ended up spending half an hour beside the lagoon teasing the magpies.

Actually, I forgot to mention this, but I noticed a lot of dead birds washed up on the beach, like some kind of burial ground. A lot of them look like pigeons (grey) and some of them look like magpies (black). Most of them are partially buried in the sand. Our theory is that there was a storm out to sea, which killed them and their bodies have washed up on the shore. It's quite distressing and I really didn't want to take a picture, but did anyway in case no one believed me. The worst area was Little Marley Beach where some of the birds had been reduced to partial skeletons and the stench was overwhelming.

The period after morning break was over way too quickly. There were a couple of scenic spots but it was half flat, easy scrubland. We reached the Bundeena side of the track in a little over an hour without so much as breaking a sweat. The amusing part was the Coastal Track sign, under which someone had written 'don't do it'.



The Verdict
Things I would change (but not necessarily lessons for future walks): If I knew what I wasn't going to use, I wouldn't have carried my sleeping bag (too hot, sleeping sheet was adequate), waste-burying trowel, or toilet paper.

Lessons for future walks: I should use a proper rucksack instead of a travelling hybrid as the weight distribution did no favours to my thighs or my shoulders.

Definitely do the track starting at Otford heading to Bundeena. That way, all the hard stuff is over on the first day and you have a cruisy half-day to look forward to on the second.

Bring a swimsuit to hang out at any number of the lagoons or beaches. Maybe consider walking in and then getting picked up/driving out at the other.