The Heysen Trail 4. The Forty Kilometre Man

 

It is said that you can judge a man by his actions. Well, I became a little concerned about my own sanity when I arrived at Cape Jervis. All the passengers on the bus hopped onto the ferry to Kangaroo Island except me. There was I, alone, a small entity next to a big, open ocean. It was only I who took the turn past the trailhead and disappeared over a hill. ‘Is this really such an extraordinary, unusual, mad thing to do?’

I woke up my three stooges (read the blog ‘Heysen trail two’ if you want to know what it's all about) that morning at 4am to check the time - surely, it had to be time to get going. Way too early, I walked the convenient 300 metres to the central bus station where friendly Sealink staff looked after my huge towering bag - a nickname of my backpack will spring to mind soon. The markets around the corner were open for fruit and veg and I bought some cheap apples and carrots that would hopefully stay fresh in the top of my tower of agony.

It was a beautiful bus ride towards Cape Jervis. At first we hit the terraces in Adelaide with its broad strips of parkland looking pretty in the morning rays. Then suburbia, Lego style, floated by for some time. The hills rolled on and were soon covered with splashes of autumn coloured vines, evidence of our salubrious society - the McLaren Vale wineries begging for further investigation.

I could have sworn that we had arrived in the English country-side when our trip turned into a surreal episode of 'Escape to the Country'. Large, green, grass-covered hills stretched on as far as I could squint into the early sun. An English gentleman with a Wallace of the and Grommet series spoke  inside my head  "These rabbits do 'ave a funny way of hopping about, Grommet”.  
 

The unusual shaped light-house at Cape Jervis

In Cape Jervis I ordered my last barista made, liquid hug at the café, for what would have to be the last one for some time and sat down next to a young man who told me he just walked in from Bridgewater - near Adelaide. He asked me not to sit too close because he hadn't had a shower for a while – always a sign of a fair dinkum hiker. We talked for a while and he told me it had taken him four days to the Cape at a pace of around 40km per day. I was stunned!!! What a pace this young super-human had set! I told him I would be very happy to make it to Victor Harbor in five days, less than half the distance of his walk but in more than double the time. He told me his pack was very light with the downside that he would go hungry at times. "The more you carry the slower you get" he said while ogling my column of torture standing forlorn in the corner of the café. I followed his gaze and thought with happiness as well as trepidation ‘Looks like this snail will have enough to eat’.

"Look out for the slimy, green stuff” was one of his parting pearls of wisdom. I thought it was only polite to nod and grunt in agreement even though I hadn't a clue what 'the green stuff' was. I was about to tell him that I didn't smoke marihuana and was sure that I could fight off whatever spawn Kermit like monsters would throw at me, but thought the better of it.

The 20 something year old marathon-a-day-man was kind enough to take some photos of my fresh features before I finally set foot on the trail.




Raring to go, stick at the ready but unfortunately facing the wrong way

I would like to acknowledge the Ngarrindjeri or traditional owners of the lower Murray river, the care takers of this land I am about to travel through. 

With the last shot of caffeine buzzing in my brain I took on a flat trail along side my old friend the ocean. It only took five minutes to start whooohoooing and I bawled out a courageous "Yeah!" and a "Yeah man!!" 

Waves were lapping gently at the black rocks. The air, carried in from the ocean, left a salty flavour on my lips - or was that sweat already. All that sea, sun, salt and wind culminated in a strong sensation, one sorely missed by a desert dweller like yours truly.

The green hills soon required a bit more effort when a series of calf-burners stopped my random howls of ecstasy.

A seven strong pod of dolphins swam by while I stood high above them on a cliff. These dolphins were magnificent, powerful and much bigger than I remembered. There has always been something liberating about watching dolphins or whales glide past. 'Not bad for my first morning on the trail' I thought.



This is as close as I could get with my camera

In a meadow of sheep and kangaroos I sat down to have my first meal on the track overlooking Kangaroo Island from afar. When you still have fresh provisions, lunch can be a real pleasure. Try minestrone soup with a fresh bread roll and several blobs of melted goats cheese to carve out of the bottom of the bowl. A 'MasterChef' winner any day.
 

Identical double twin Kangaroos in front of the ocean

I was surprised to find that my phone was still barred-up and I had a long conversation with Julie while enjoying the 20 degree winter sun. Only 10km out from where I started, I enjoyed the longest break in the middle of the day lazing about in the green, green grass .
 
‘No 40km for you laddie, not today, not ever!’ said Wallace.

 Grey Bits

Sealink run regular bus services from Adelaide to Cape Jervis every day. Here is their link www.sealink.com.au




The Southern Ocean and, if you look carefully, Kangaroo Island in the distance

Walking with sharks: Day 5, the end

Please note that some of this story is hard to stomach and has a theme of death that crops up more than I wished for.



This is my fifth and final day in the boots around this beautiful Peron peninsular. I am walking from Herald Bight to Monkey Mia.

Sometimes adventure bites you hard in the proverbial, exposes weaknesses and tests your resolve. Are you ready?

 

Herald Bight was there in all of its glory that early morning. Shortly after being dropped off with the advice this was “an easy walk” and cynically told to “just keep the ocean on yer left” by my skilled adversary, I left Herald Bight behind and cut across the base of Guichenalt Point through a splendid Herald bluff..

Maybe you have realized by now that my mind wanders into the almost insane when I hike for long periods of time. Today my thoughts were drawn to the many different shapes of boulders on the beach that would have broken off the top of the cliff in a random, unpredictable time gone past and thundered down with brutal force. What would it be like to be crushed or bowled over by one of those? I spent time watching the tops of those red walls feeling very small and vulnerable. After a short time I became complacent about the rock-crush idea.

How does that happen?

Boulders of fear

 

Halfway through the dodging of the always stationary boulders I spotted a large turtle above the tidemark. On approach, I knew something wasn’t right. No turtle tracks were coming up from the beach and its body was sitting too low and still on the sand.




Death giving me a wink

Having seen the energetic egg-laying lady turtles from Dirk Hartog Island only a week earlier  I was horrified to find this turtle in a semi-decomposed state with hollow eyes staring at me. The feeling of horror exacerbated by a yellow ghost crab hiding from me in its right eye socket, while a much bigger yellow crustacean completely uninhibited started tearing strips of skin off the turtles face. Near vomiting, my hands moved automatically and started taking (possibly) inappropriate photographs of this Haloweenic scene. What does that tell you Mars? Swim as hard and fast in the ocean before letting the ghost crabs in.

"You've come near enough"

Being even more determined to survive the day I continued on and experienced the stark contrasts nature has to offer when a large white breasted sea-eagle allowed me to come within ten metres. The graceful bird took flight, posing for the camera as it expanded its mighty wings.



Taking to the air

 



Thrashing about in the shallows

 

 

I was very pleased that during this last day the sharks were back, putting on a show in the shallows. Some of them were thrashing wildly exposing almost their entire body; some were so close to the shore I could have put a leash on them and taken them for “walkies”!!

  



Shark swimming here.............................................semi grey nomad walking there

 

 

I sat down after rounding Cape Rose for a long lunch, four hours into my walk, trying to reset my aching body. This proved not an easy task for the semi-grey nomad. Rather stiff, I kept a slow pace at the water’s edge towards Monkey Mia which had come into view at Cape Rose. With the temperature rising above thirty, the Southerly dropping out all together and the humidity levels feeling steam-room high, it became uncomfortable to walk. The beautiful white, sandy beach disappeared making way to treacherous rocks and slippy banks of granite. That's all you need.





Looking back from Cape Rose

 

  

Two kilometres from the end my body felt seriously depleted. I start eating all my leftover snacks and began to drink my unfrozen, but cold, two litres of water that I saved for the end, having already drunk four litres of water today.

 

In the distance I saw an odd shape in the water. What is it? I strained to look at it through sweat- burning eyes. It looks like a goat. It is a goat. What’s a goat doing in the water? Why isn’t it moving? Is my educated friend playing a prank on me here? Has he thrown a taxidermy goat in the water just to freak me out. Nah, that's too far fetched. I am rubbing even more stinging sweat into my eyes trying to lose the spell of an exhaustion fuelled hallucination.

  



 

Goat of silence

 

  

When I drew near, the goat had still not moved an inch and stayed half submerged in the bay. Shark Bay no less. Overlooking nanny goat there were two kids half a metre tall. They look as baffled as myself and are patiently waiting for mum to come out of the shark infested water. Time passes, and except for some pleading bleats of the young ones, nothing changes. I come to the conclusion that nanny-goat has passed on to a better place in goat heaven with lots of green pastures and billy goats to frolic with. Several options run through my mind.

 

I just take those gangly kids, one under each arm, and walk the last couple of kilometres to the ranger's office in Monkey Mia and say: "Hello, meet Billy and Kid. I found them down the road but you can look after them now. See ya!!!"

Or

Let’s just take these cute little rascals back with me to the national park we live. Wait!! Isn't there a full goat eradication program in swing? Would I not be taking a non-native animal into a national park? Yes, you would. 
 

How can you not take me??

 

I chose to do the ever-so-hard option after severe internal dialog where swearwords were hurled back and forward at each other. I walked.

One last glance over my shoulder confirmed the death of the nanny goat as she collapsed into the water. "It is nature’s way" I tell myself.

I reported Billy and Kid's predicament to the rangers office at Monkey Mia as soon as I got there. Feeling like a tired stranger in a fully blown resort with dolphins cruising past and people sipping Pina Coladas on deckchairs as if nothing ever happened, I realised that I had finally completed my walk with sharks. 





 



Walking into the Monkey Mia resort

After my office visit I managed to stumble down to the beach where, without changing, I walked straight into the hyper-salinized water. It proved to be a big mistake. Six hours of hot, sweaty hiking had chafed the dark region where the sun ain’t shining, red raw. Literally, rubbing salt into the wounded proverbial was a nasty shock, but maybe apt punishment for not doing enough for the wildlife today.

Cruising past

 

As Olivia Newton John once sang: Let’s get philosophical.

 

Luckily, I had the absolute privilege to experience the raw peninsular wilderness that taught me much more about survival, death, nature's balance and human limitations. This may be something that we all could learn more about in this beautiful setting that is the Peron Peninsular.

 

However, dear readers, a large part in my heart calls out to discourage you not to walk in my footsteps. I have found pristine biridas, beaches untouched by coconut oiled humans, sharks to walk with, drop boulder bears and, ooohh, those amazing cliffs of Shark Bay. Nature, here on the peninsular, needs to be protected from our human frivolities and kept in that crude, fragile balance I found it in. It is a dangerous place to be, even for semi-grey nomads. Yeah Mars!!  Even by writing about Shark Bay I am guilty of generating more interest in a place that may be best left alone.

In the end the choice to travel into Shark Bay and explore its coastline is up to you. So, if you go, please, take care!!

 



Grey Bits


I was reassured by my erudite comrade that baby goats, the same height as the two I saw, would have no problem surviving on their own.

Please note, that this hike is through very wild, uninhabited country. In my opinion it is not advisable to attempt this hike without a support team or proper communication devices like a satellite phone or  EPIRB and hiking experience is a must.

Let the Department of Parks and Wildlife  know where you are going to be and when you plan to return. Phone (08) 9948 2226 or click on the following links www.sharkbay.org, www.dpaw.wa.gov.au for more information.

The best time to walk around the Peron Peninsular is at low tide. You can check the tide at www.seabreeze.com.au

The end

Living in Francois Peron National Park

Sneaking up on a wedge tail eagle at Point Peron

For years I have been a somewhat frustrated holiday-maker. In the short time one can travel in other countries on working holidays, it has been difficult to emerge fully in to the local culture and get to know the people that live there. Travelling became a procession of visits to the major tourist destinations ticking them off the list one by one. Those lists were acquired from a brochure or a top ten web-site every man and his dog has in his possession and passes by the real world with the real people in them.



Herald Bight - one of the camp sights visited during an excursion into the park

Being able to spend the time here in Shark Bay is a luxury not many people get to experience. We have met a lot of locals and getting to know them was easy. We are now on first name terms with 30% of the town, know the greengrocer by name and have been stopped in the main street of Denham by locals to have a chat. This is the ultimate country inclusive tradition I believe.



A camouflaged bearded dragon

As volunteers for DPaW (Department of Parks and Wildlife) both Julie and I have had the pleasure to travel into the national park with some of the DPaW staff. These guys have a wealth of experience in the job that they know well. Every time we are out in the park something unexpected happens. There will be a lizard sitting on a branch or a sea eagle flying overhead. We have seen a dugong just five metres off the beach and helped a sea snake swim back out to sea. There is a wild life avalanche in Francois Peron National Park - all shown to us with expert commentary ocker Ozzy Attenborough style.

 

 

A white breasted sea eagle flying overhead

Some of the places where we've had “smoko” - even though none of us  smoke - are just simply breath-taking. For morning tea we stopped at Sheila’s Bluff. A stunning red semi-circled bay North of Bottle bay. The story goes that two local young men were collecting firewood on top of the cliff (in the old days one could still light camp fires in this area). They threw the sticks they had collected over the edge of the cliff so they didn't have to carry them down. Sheila the dog wrongly jumped after a stick causing her to fly towards the treacherous terrain below. As you can see in the photo it is quite a drop. Sheila dodged several big boulders on the way down, tumbled and rolled a couple of times and ended up laying completely winded on the beach. After the initial shock of seeing their dog disappear over the cliff edge and after making sure the dog was ok they cracked up laughing and named the rock Sheila’s Bluff. Apparently Sheila spent the rest of the day quietly under the ute.  

Sheila's Bluff

At South Gregories we stopped for lunch at a goat cave carved out at the high tide mark. Inside there are several stages of geological evolution going on if you are interested or you can just enjoy the turquoise sea water lapping at the little white beach in front of you while eating your sandwich.




The snorkelling is great at Gregories reef. 

Even cleaning the toilet is exciting in these parts. We were told about a redback spider trapping big bugs, lizards and even small snakes in its web that is amazingly strong and sticky.

Keep an eye out for these redbacks. We have "removed" several from the toilets at Gregories and Bottle Bay campsites. One such beautiful insect had made its home on the handle of the toilet brush. According to Wikipedia, historically humans were bitten in their genetalia as redbacks were hiding in the outdoor dunny. It must have been like dangling a carrot in front of those little spidy's fangs. These days indoor plumbing and better facilities has solved that problem. Makes you look twice right?




This friendly redback spider lives in our toilet at the homestead.

If you are bitten, symptoms usually include nausea, vomiting, chest or abdominal pain, agitation, generalised sweating and high blood pressure. For first aid treatment of redback spider bites Wikipedia recommends applying ice and taking Panadol against the pain. Keeping still helps prevent the poison from spreading through your body. If pain persists a hospital assessment may be needed. If I was bitten I would be banging the door of the hospital down immediately. Never mind the Panadol.

Another amazing fact I found about redbacks is that during a horrific sexual cannibalistic ritual, the beautiful red striped female eats the all black male spider genitals first. One last amorous act by the male before turning into crunchy spider food. It must be said that redbacks do not engage in long term relationships




The colours of Skipjack Point.

 

A couple of times now we have been able to walk the 1500 metre trail between Cape Peron and Skipjack Point. A truly remarkable spot, with great sweeping views over the beach and ocean. There has to be one of the largest colony of cormorants (otherwise known as shags) queuing up along the beach we have ever seen. A huge wedge tail eagle was spotted by Julie on top of a low scrub. (see Julie's photo at the beginning of this blog).



The largest row of cormorants we have ever seen at Cape Peron.

From the boardwalk - a vantage point high above the sea at Skipjack Point - on a quiet wind-free day you can see many rays, dolphins, dugongs and sharks.  





A dugong coming up for air in Shark Bay.

We have had many chats with the rangers around the homestead, have been invited into peoples homes for cuppa's and loved the DPaW Christmas party. We would like to thank all DPaW staff for the time they have taken to show us around Francois Peron National Park and making us feel welcome.



Grey bits
 

Who is Francois Peron you may ask or you may not? Francois was a French scientist who came out to Terra Australis as Australia was known then on an ill-fated expedition on the ships the "Naturaliste" and the "Geographe" in 1800. The death toll reaching 40 due to scurvy, fever and dysentery on this voyage The two ships were separated for a long time and the expeditions into the peninsular were lost and late returning on three occasions. Francois Peron, whilst earning the wrath of his captain for getting lost, collected around 2500 zoological, for that time unknown species, and his enthusiasm and excitement about the peninsular wild life I share with him. Maybe he wasn't lost at all and just enjoyed the soft glowing low scrubby hills covered in flowers and strange animals. Unfortunately Francois contracted Tuberculosis and died when he was 35.

 

Francois Peron never had a chance to become
 a semi-grey nomad.

 

If you like to read more about Francois Peron go to: http://www.sharkbay.org.au/assets/documents/factsheets/francois-peron-v2.pdf



 You can read more about redback spiders at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Redback_spider

A Perennial Tar Vine or Commicarpus Australis at Cape Peron

 

 

We could be heroes. A dolphin tail.

We could be heroes.

And now ladies and gentlemen here are your beloved volunteers. Please make way and welcome them to the beach. Put your hands together for Julie and Marcel. And the crowd goes wild.

The Champions walk.

 

It didn’t really happen like that. However, somehow it felt like we were champions walking into Wembley stadium for an FA cup final. That first ever feed of the dolphins at Monkey Mia. In our hands holding buckets, with two or three fish each, that we defrosted and weighed carefully in the fish room. A crowd of 180 people on the beach with their backs turned to us as they are watching the dolphins in the shallow. We walked across the sand and moved slowly through the crowd to our chosen dolphin. The crowd is prompted to move their feet out of the water back onto the beach while we, the volunteers, get to stand right next to the dolphin in the water.




Shock taking it all in.

The first dolphin I fed was Shock. To greet me she shot a full repertoire of dolphin clicks at me. Shock than rotated diagonally sideways to look straight at me. I was actually a bit shocked with the attention she gave me. She moved right along side of me while I was handing the fish to… sorry, I cant remember who from the crowd. Absolutely mesmerised I went through the process of feeding the other two fish with two more crowd picks. The ranger who was standing next to me at the time later laughed at me and said that I was calling Shock “mate” all the time even though she's a female. I guess I was just waffling nonsense that first time. The final act of the feed is rinsing the empty bucket in the water. Shock and the others cleverly knew immediately that this was the end of   snack time and super gracefully slid away from me. This is the moment I won't forget, as unexpectedly, I choked up and was looking through a haze of tears at the dolphins as they disappeared into Shark Bay. Where did this reaction come from?

Marcel handing a fish to a member of the crowd
with dolphin paying close attention.

Has life as a semi-grey nomad finally been rewarded?

Every time we went into the water to feed these beautiful creatures something amazing happened. Julie received a belly rub from a pregnant Surprise. Surprise was always nudging our legs carefully to hurry up with that fish already.

Julie being touched by a dolphin.

A large pelican named Rogue appeared at times. We always had to cut up a little extra fish for her as she snapped her beak wildly in the air as if imaginary flies were attacking her. We were told she was blind in one eye and needed redirecting away from the buckets of fish at the beach. No other pelican behaved like this. I was lucky enough to have the job of distracting Rogue to keep her away from the fish buckets during the dolphin feeds. I told Rogue in no uncertain terms she should not be a bloody galah and would not get a fish if she didn’t behave. Luckily she did behave. After taming Rogue I was dubbed the "Rogue" whisperer by the rangers who even wrote this on my volunteering certificate.



Jacob aka Michael Keaton counting
the people on the beach.

We met an amazing couple that were volunteering with us. Jacob and Sabina luckily new what the routine was and showed us how to record every gram and dolphin sighting. After feeding time there were many chores to be done without much pressure and plenty of time for tea and free bikkies.

Sabina having fun in the fish room.

The whole scene on the beach is controlled by two rangers. All the rangers at Monkey Mia were friendly and helpful. Best of all they looked like they were enjoying themselves as much as we did.

Finally - let's do some mathematical brain damage here. If there are 180 people on the beach - four dolphins eating 10 fish, what are your chances of being picked to feed and get up close to a dolphin?  Very little you say?

Go volunteer at Monkey Mia. It is a privilege.

Semi-grey nomad tips and links.

• Feed the dolphins the fish head first. It slides down better.
• If you'd like to volunteer contact Department of Parks and Wildlife Shark Bay District Ph: (08) 9948 1366 | Fax: (08) 9948 1512 | www.sharkbay.org

 

  I wish I could swim!

 

Like dolphins!

 

Like dolphins can swim!

 

(David Bowie, Heroes)