Day 9 – Yanake to Tidal River

---

Sad sad news from the real world to start the day.

As we were setting up camp last night we chatted with a guy who’s just finishing an eleven month lap of Australia with his wife and two young kids. Crazy what some people will do.

We set out down the beach, rock hopping around the headland. The tide is on the way in, which is exceptionally poor planning but unavoidable.

Once around the rocks, a broad long swathe of sand flats stretches out. The walking on this is easy going and we make good progress for a time. In the distance a fox bounds across the flat. Then there’s a boots-off stream crossing followed by a bunch of mud. Robyn wears her crocs. I consider the wisdom of having ditched mine yesterday and continue barefoot. Once we hit sand again we clean our feet and put boots back on.

It’s a beautiful stretch of beach with the mountains rising across Corner Inlet.

After a few more km we stop by one of our planned escape routes, chow down on snacks, and gaze southward through my monocular. The remaining distance to Miller’s Landing is inscrutable. It could be fine or it could be impassable. Not wanting to get in too deep and have to backtrack, and given the lack of campsites in the north west corner of the park, we decide to take the 4×4 track out to the main road.

The road walking is less harrowing than outside the park, and we get lots of friendly and excited waves from motorists. We determine to stop every five kilometres or so to rest our feet and refuel. We consider the possibility of Robyn hitching ahead. We’re no longer aiming in the direction of Barry Creek campsite; the only legal campsite even vaguely between the park’s entry and Tidal River, and a very significant distance out of our way. We’re now considering pitching up at a no-camping picnic spot with toilets and benches. But when we get there it doesn’t feel right.

We have an extended lunch with boots off and feet raised. Flame robins play in the grass and a wombat happily munches away. It’s just another ten km to Tidal River campground. We make a last minute booking for the night at the same spot we have booked for tomorrow. Heft packs. Onwards.

The road climbs steadily upward for five km, then descends. Some amazing views spread themselves out before us. The shadows begin to lengthen.

We finally turn off the road and follow the Lilly Pilly Gully track (say that fifty times quickly) down to the campground.

We shamble into camp as the sun goes down, tired and sore beyond reason, but exceptionally proud of ourselves. We’ve walked 37km and bought ourselves an entire rest day.

Tidal River campground is sprawling and the sites are tiny. What the place must be like in the middle of peak season with every site noisily occupied is a blight upon the imagination.

As we cook dinner on one of the sheltered picnic tables, a possum stealthily makes its way into the table and steals a mouthful of food before either of us notice what’s happening. Cheeky bastard.