The Heysen Trail 11. Dream of the Shepherd

The man appeared at the end of the small street. He lifted his hand up and pointed the pistol straight at me and pulled the trigger. I jumped sideways and got the hell out of the alley. I ran for my life, gasping for breath -  sweating. The man started to chase me through an old city that presented itself as a mixture between Venice, Jerusalem and Zutphen (a town I used to live in - in Holland). I ran and dodged bullets for what seemed a lifetime. Every time the bullets came closer, whistling past my ears, until they finally hit me. In a crazy time-bending loop my mind presses the reverse button and slides back to the point where I was about to get shot. I quickly ducked into a different street and kept running, managing to avoid the bullets that had done me in seconds prior. This crazy process repeats itself until it can't go on any longer. The man comes closer and closer. This time it will be the end of me. Nothing is going to save me now…..

This is usually the moment I wake up.

That morning I awoke saturated as if I had ran for miles. I remembered having taken a mixture of Panadol and Ibuprofen the night before. ‘No wonder I had to face that man again’ I thought. My reoccurring dream struck again.

I crawled out of my death trap, that looked very much like a tent  and found myself staring at my knee a little puzzled. The swelling had almost disappeared and I could move around freely. The drugs must have worked their magic almost to a point I was wondering if I was making it all up. I abandoned the quitting plan that appeared an absolute certainty the night before and started to pack up. Some rain refreshed the air around me and soon, I was walking, optimistically, but tentatively, the easy 12km that was promised to me by the map.
 

Sheep on a broad herding track

I was outnumbered at least 1000 sheep to one human that morning. Some of them ran ahead of me for quite some time as even my friendliest sheep language couldn't settle them. Yes, I was talking to sheep! I must have inadvertently driven this smallish group of pre-jumper cuteness for a couple of kilometres. A fine shepherd I make!




Walking back towards the ocean still on Balquhidder station land

I paused to take a photo of some gumtrees and tried several effects to make it look like a 'Mr Heysen' painting but never really even touched the real thing.




My attempt at a 'Heysen' painting 

With the knee almost forgotten, I strutted up and over several large hills towards the ocean. Like my feet had been cast in concrete blocks, I crossed a creek bed, wobbling from rock to rock.

Some amazing looking beaches appeared in the distance - large rolling waves crashing on black rocks and petering out on the sand.
 

Slippery rocks - no kidding!

The wind picked up and started tugging at the doomed, weighty sail that I lugged around with me. Normally, not a problem except that being blown about on the edge of a cliff is quite a thrill.




High above ocean and beach

A group of surfers were hanging out beyond the breakers at Parsons Beach. I paused for a leisurely, lazy, long morning tea to see what their skills were made of. After 20 minutes of watching these guys just bobbing up and down, one of them finally caught a ripper, one could say. A long time waiting for a wave and a long time waiting for a shot.
 

Ripper, maaate!!

 

There was a lot to see and a lot to take in that day. In fact, photography was a dream. After a series of small beaches I walked on to the relatively easy to negotiate Waitpinga Beach, where it was quite busy. Lots of fishermen, a dead, but seriously photogenic, octopus and more of the surfing kind enjoying this glorious stretch with me.



Kind of morbid, kind of beautiful!

The turn-off came at the end of the beach at the camping/car-park that was almost full. A short climb over a large dune brought me to the Waitpinga Campground used by hikers and people with tents .

How good was life? Done for the day before lunchtime, all clean after my one bottle shower in the bush - one day out from Victor Harbor - leg up - four days into the Heysen trail - cuppa in hand and savouring the flavour of some dark chocolate.

 Grey Bits

Waitpinga Beach is easily accessible by car. If you are looking for a great place to camp or just want to spend the day fishing go to www.findacamp.com for more information.




A statue of unknown significance found en route