Day 11 – Tidal River to Refuge Cove

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We pack up and hang around until the store opens, then enjoy hat coffee, hash browns and potato scallop-cakes on our way out of the campground.

The next few days probably involve more elevation than the rest of the walk combined. In the peak season there’s a shuttle bus that runs to Telegraph Saddle. We are not here in the peak season. We walk up the hill. The carpark at the saddle is full of hikers in the familiar action of organising backpacks out of car boots. Hikers who were smart enough to drive here instead of walking. Leaving the saddle, we revel in the knowledge that there will be no more road walking for the rest of the trip. The rainforest casts shadows of the first day of the walk.

When planning this walk I’d hoped that the Sealers Cove walking track upgrades would be done and the track open, but we’re a few weeks too early. Instead we make our way towards the coast along the Waterloo Bay walking track. It leaves the broad Telegraph track and winds its way through gorgeous coastal scrub. It’s a very well maintained track, with boardwalk over most of the muddy sections. Closer to the coast, grass trees abound.

Robyn is spotting orchids again. We find some fire orchids, and looking at its delicate yet proud structure, for the first time I begin to get a sense for why people become so enamoured of them.

At Little Waterloo Bay we stop for a long and languid lunch. A group of four lads walk by, failing hilariously to negotiate crossing the little creek. There have been a few people on trail, but generally it’s fairly quiet for a weekend.

Continuing on, we climb to Kersop Peak for resplendent views. The wind has picked up, blowing cold and strong at our backs in the exposed sections. The forecast for the next few days is for blustery winds but no rain.

We finally drop down to the aptly named Refugee Cove. This delightfully delightful bay is ringed with coloured granite, and so sheltered that the waves can barely be bothered to lap at the sand. The campground is large and accommodating. The four lads are already setting up, and we decide to camp next door at the boat-in campsite, giving both groups what I assume is a fairly unusual amount of privacy at what must be a popular weekend destination.

I love drinking tannic water. It’s like stealing tea.

We lounge comfortably at the makeshift camp kitchen, savouring hot food and tea, and the fading light glinting dully on water through the tea trees. There’s a deep shared awareness of how lucky we are to be here to experience this place. I can’t help but wonder if the satisfaction is deepened by the distance we walked to get here.

We run each other through the four mindfulness questions, and today a shift has occurred; until note our concerns have focused entirely on the walk; on our finesses and injuries, on which route to take and on food. But today the real world has crept in from the periphery of awareness, greedy for acknowledgement of its ascendancy, however far we may walk.

And yet, I fall asleep to the languid slushing of lazy waves and the sound of moonlight on leaf litter.