Grey clouds hang heavy in the sky, frowning down at us as we clamber out the Jeep. The wind threatens to snatch my hat away. Stooping over, I swing fourteen kilograms of pack onto my back. A pack stuffed with everything I need to live on for three days. With well wishes, hugs and a quick pep talk from the family, my friend and I wave goodbye and take our first steps on the trail. “Holy shit!” Months of preparation and planning and we are finally here! A trail marker states we are even going the right way – The Cape to Cape. Time for a nervous selfie!
Amber dirt leads the way as we stride through low shrubs. Losing sight of the road, nerves give way to elation as the scenery paints a new canvas at every turn. The ocean heaves white foam at coastal rocks, birds dart carelessly across the trail and the sun finally crawls out to show us all the vibrant colours. Bliss! A few rock scrambles, a few pictures. Dirt gives way to black hydrophobic sand and limestone trip hazards. We continue along the path, trekking poles egging us along with rhythmic clicking. Around a bend, the trail heads towards the cliff face before heading straight…down…there!
“Are you bloody kidding me?” I edge myself down cautiously. Step by step. Each sandy, non-legal tread size step. Arms out in front, bracing with trekking poles until, at last, we made it. Hitting the bottom safely, I congratulate myself on buying these aluminium sticks, and scoff three lolly snakes as a reward.
Besides some pack adjustments here and there, every part of my body is faring well…except for my feet. Punching them through ankle-deep beach sand for the last 30 minutes has taken its toll. But, my friend cheerfully states there are only two kilometres to go. Not far to camp seeing how we have crossed off a cool twenty k’s already. I sit admiring the blue waters and smash down a snickers bar ready for the final push. Tonight’s camp – here I come!
“Two kilometres. That’s all. I swear I should be there by now.” The guidebook said camp was set amongst some trees. “Oh, look! Trees!” But, the trail weaves in and around and straight out the other side of them. The low sturdy shrubs that line the track grab at my trekking poles and I stumble. {Insert many interesting swear words} I stop and rethink my route, concluding that there is no way in hell that I could have missed a campground. “Two kilometres? – My Arse!” So, I drag my now throbbing feet (what feels like a further kilometre) up the track, until my friend appears in front of me. Made it!
Camp is a huddle of scrubby, tall shrubs. Shouldering my pack, I hobble around to make camp. Finally, sitting down I peel off bull-dust caked boots and sweaty socks to reveal the train wreck that are my feet. “How the fuck am I going to continue tomorrow?” The bulbous blisters just stare at me.
Inbetween Coffees 