I had given up on sleep at 3am. I managed to get a couple of hours before waking up frozen, and slipped on my jacket over my sleeping clothes. The same Kmart jacket I was going to leave in the car yesterday. It wasn’t enough to keep me from the cold and I dozed, never managing to hit a deep slumber. I lay there, listening to kangaroos sniff and pad around our site, willing the sun to come up.
Breakfast was a Trangia pot full of porridge and dried fruit. I noticed that my body ached this morning, but my feet were in fine form. Packing up camp was disjointed with upgraded equipment and a new packing routine. The campground looked much different in the morning light as we set off.
It was not long until we hit the magnificent forests of Boranup. Immediately, I felt at home, forgetting all about my achy body. Dappled trunks, lush winter greenery and morning sunshine made for a glorious sight. The track was shaded, mostly level, and with my spirits lifted I felt like I was flying along the dirt. Five kilometres flew by.
Elation was short lived as the track turned and we were exposed, climbing and descending hills repeatedly. My friend powered on ahead and it would be another two kilometres until I caught up with her again. After the daily pick-me-up, AKA Snicker’s Bar, we hit the beach barefoot all the way to Hamlin Bay Caravan Park.
The kiosk welcomed us with open arms…and snacks! We entertained numerous people as they stopped to chat about our walk, keeping their distance as we stank. After pitching tents, we used too much hot water washing the filth from our aching bodies. Then it was dinner with a book and bed.
I put on every piece of clothing I had, even my raincoat – I refused to be cold and have a sleepless night again!
But, it was not to be.
Not a wink.
By morning, I was a wreck. Every cell in my body was screaming. It hurt to move. And this time, it lasted all day.
This day was a blur of beach sand, climbs and a yearned to see the lighthouse at every corner. The track dissolved into rocks that had been carved out by the sea, hanging from the side of the land. I ignored a ‘danger’ sign. “Yes, I know this place is fucking dangerous!” I scolded the sign makers. Looking at the holes that fell metres below, I tip-toed and scaled over the sandy parts, sticking to the rocks, not knowing what was beneath the sand. One trip and I’m a goner.
At every corner, I begged to see the lighthouse or at least an end to the day. I checked my phone for signal. One phone call and I could get out of here. No, the lighthouse will be around this bend. I told myself this looking towards every bend. It was all I could do to keep going with the immense pain that was my body.
“Damn it! That’s it! If the fucking lighthouse isn’t around this next heap of rocks, I’m out! I’m fucking over this shit!”
Needless to say, the lighthouse was around that heap of rocks. A tiny, white shimmery line on the distant headland. And so was my friend, who was laying back reading a novel after her swim in the ocean.
I dragged myself over to her, dumped my pack and carefully laid my broken body on the sun warmed rock. It was time for that Snickers.
I did not stay long. Camp was one kilometre along the beach, then four hundred metres into the dunes…and I was ready for bed.
While cooking dinner, my friend made a comment about the sign back by the dodgy rocks. The one I didn’t read. She informed me that the sign told us how to cross that section safely and not to step on the sandy parts as they can fall through. My heart did a back flip! I was lucky that one of the voices in my head had told me to avoid those sandy patches. Note to self: read the bloody signs next time!
The twilight was knocking, so I headed into my tent. Every piece of clothing went on again: leggings, singlet, thermal singlet, long sleeve top, 2 pairs of socks, hiking shirt, jacket, raincoat, cap and my buff. I stuffed myself inside my minus 5 degree mummy bag and then remembered the emergency blanket. Spreading it out over me, I used my joggers, water bottle and food bag to anchor the corners down.
Sleep, come at me!
Inbetween Coffees 