Distance: 17km
Elevation: 500m?
Time: 6:00
Total Distance: 599km
Music: Heilung – Norupo
Some walkers have complained to me that the South Coast Track is not easy – I agree but for the region it is the ‘easiest’ walk – all the other walks in the park except the southern half of South West Cape are considerably harder. If I graded the South Coast Track as say Medium-Hard then how would other routes in the south-west be rated, say Hard or even Extremely Hard would not describe how much more difficult some routes are, perhaps Desperate would be correct for the inexperienced but that would be a ridiculous grade for experienced walkers who can handle the difficulties.
John Chapman
I wake before dawn to the roar of wind in the treetops and the intermittent jerking of the hammock as gusts bend the trees I’m attached to. It’s going to be a day.
Goodbye Hidden Bay; you were a gem I’ll not soon forget.
At New Harbour I run across a lady who camped there last night. She reckons she’s heading back to Melaleuca to sit out this evening’s weather. I wonder if there’s wisdom in doing the same.
I’m not going over New Harbour Range. Not in this weather, and not after yesterday’s exertions.
I spend the walk to the track junction considering whether to turn tail to Melaleuca, adding 5km today and 5km tomorrow, or continue as planned. I decide to press on. The wind is coming from the north-west, and I think the chances are good of finding a decently sheltered campsite.
I am now, finally, on the South Coast Track. I have to say, now that I’m here it’s much windier than I had imagined.
The Ironbound Range rises in the near distance. At close to a thousand metres high, they are largely regarded as the hardest part of walking the South Coast Track. They certainly look formidable.
On the raised boardwalk alongside Freney lagoon, I have to keep bracing myself to keep from being blown off the side. When I reach the ocean, the wind is atomising the peaks of the breaking waves and blowing them back out to sea.
At Freney Lagoon campsite near that freshwater body’s outlet into the ocean, I decide to camp for the night. There are sheltered sites in amongst the scrubby trees, and while it’s still rather windy in there, I’ve felt how strong the wind is in exposed areas. It’s possible Point Eric would have been better, but this will do, and I don’t want to push my luck and find there are no better campsites further on. Plus there’s an enclosed toilet I can cower in if need be.
As I’m setting up camp I remember a story Ed told me back in Melaleuca that was told to him by a guy who’d camped one night at Shelf Camp on the Mount Anne circuit. Shelf Camp is a high, exposed camp not far from the saddle with Mount Anne. It’s sheltered from the south-west but very exposed to the north-east. There’s no soil, so tents have to be secured using rocks instead. It does get some spectacular sunrises. This guy had gone to bed up there with one other tent pitched nearby. During the night a huge wind picked up; enough to fiercely shake the tent and lead to a worried night of little sleep. In the still of the morning the guy emerges, tired but glad to have weathered the night. But when he looks around he’s confused to see the other tent is gone. No sign of it.
Turns out that it hadn’t, in fact, been blown clean off the cliff face. The guy in the other tent had woken in the night to find it collapsed and shredded around him, and had been forced to pack everything up in the dark and walk down to the hut by torchlight.
I filter my water for tonight and tomorrow, batten the hatches down halfway, leaving a view of the ocean but with pegs at the ready in case things get squirrelly, and settle in. It’s 2:30pm. The gusts of wind pull at my trees, creating a sensation not unlike turbulence or being in a boat in swell. The hammock rocks. Typically, the hammock never rocks unless I want it to. I put dinner on. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long night.
At least the mosquitoes aren’t stupid enough to be out in this weather, so that’s something. I settle in, reading Terry Pratchett’s Small Gods. Bringing the e-reader was a damn good idea.
