Advertisement
Published: April 14th 2021
Battling Time and Tide
What's left of the Twelve ApostlesWhile pretty much everyone has heard of the Great Ocean Road that runs for 250km from Torquay to Warnambool in south-western Victoria, not so well known is the Great Ocean Walk that traces a line along part of the same stretch of coast for 100km from Apollo Bay to the (misnamed) Twelve Apostles. And while the road follows the shoreline for eighty breathtaking kilometres between Anglesea and Apollo Bay, beyond this it heads inland for a further eighty kilometres through the rainforests of the Otway Ranges, only reaching the sea again at the Twelve Apostles. This is great news for people such as myself, as it means that self-sufficient hikers tackling the Great Ocean Walk have a spectacular stretch of coastline all to ourselves! Well, almost.
With three weeks having passed since I came down from the summit of Mount Bogong to find the whole state of Victoria in lockdown, and not having done any multi-day walks since then, I was itching to hit the trail again. The only problem was that I had mistakenly timed my visit to coincide with the Labor Day long weekend in Victoria, meaning that just about every campground along this entire stretch of coastline
Kilometre Zero
Eastern trailhead in Apollo Bay - including each of the seven walk-in only campgrounds on the Great Ocean Walk - was booked out; while the fact that the walk can only be completed from East to West didn't help matters either! Somehow though I had managed to snare a spot in a couple of the 'group campsites' for each of the first two nights (before reverting to individual campsites for the rest of the way) but this meant I would have to skip campgrounds on both the second and third days, and thus have to cover nearly fifty kilometres on those two days. Still, as long as it got me back out into the wilderness, that seemed like a small price to pay.
With only a short 10km section to complete to reach my first campsite - and with the weather not exactly inspiring confidence - I was in no hurry to leave Apollo Bay on the Saturday morning, so it wasn't until just before midday that I finally hoisted my pack and got going, following the road for the first three kilometres until the point where it turned inland and I didn't. This was the same stretch of road where I had six
Scenic Coastline
View of Three Creeks Beach from Bald Hill years earlier witnessed a policewoman chasing a koala (slowly) down the centre of the road, whilst repeatedly whacking it in the bum with some sort of plastic sign in an effort to get it to move off the road! Unfortunately there were no such wildlife encounters this time around...
After leaving the traffic behind and picking my way through the Marengo Holiday Park (where the campers were packed in like sardines) I was greeted by the sight of thunderous Bass Strait swells crashing into the rocky reefs off Storm Point... though given the super low tide I could watch safely from a distance. This was just as well, since the first half-dozen kilometres of the walk includes a number of beach sections where no inland alternative exists, in addition to the many sections where walkers can choose between walking along the shore or taking a path through the trees. It is for this reason that there are numerous 'decision point' signs scattered along the trail prompting walkers to assess the conditions before continuing, and that all walkers need to be aware of tide times so as to plan their walk accordingly.
But with no cause for concern for
Fern-filled Gully
Shaded stretch of boardwalk below Elliot Ridge at least the first couple of days, I was easily able to pick my way along the shoreline for a couple of kilometres, admiring the patterning on the rocky shelves and marvelling at the brute force that must have been needed to break the holdfasts of the kelp that lay scattered about, slowly drying in the salty sea air. Taking my leave of the beach to tackle the short climb over the shoulder of Bald Hill, I then arrived at a glorious viewpoint overlooking the narrow strip of sand known as Three Creeks Beach, with a steeply-sloping ridgeline cloaked in dense vegetation carrying the shoreline onwards beyond that. After another section of beach walking I was then directed inland to climb up and around a forested gully, before returning almost to sea level to cross what should have been the Elliot River (which didn't quite make it to the sea) on a series of oversized stepping stones; and from there I bid farewell to the shoreline to tackle the toughest climb of the day up toward the campsite on Elliot Ridge, gaining 150m of elevation in under a kilometre.
Nestled amongst the tall gum trees, the campground was well
Clearing in the Forest
My tent site at Elliot Ridge laid out and had all the necessary facilities; and it was here whilst cooking my dinner in the evening that I would finally lay eyes on my first koala for the trip, perched about thirty metres up a tree on the edge of the campground. Gazing up at that furry little guy with a mouthful of rehydrated tandoori chicken - while he gazed back at me with a mouthful of dry eucalyptus leaves - seemed a fitting way to end my first day on the trail; yet a further unexpected encounter was to follow later in the night, when I heard footsteps outside my tent and stuck my head out to see what I presumed would be a brushtail possum, only to find a slender fox glaring at me from about five metres away. An introduced pest that both kills and out-competes native species they may be, but it was still a thrill to lay eyes on such a beautiful and elusive creature (I had only ever once before seen a fox in all my life in Australia).
Having to cover twice as much distance the next day, I was up at the crack of dawn to give myself
Sandy Cove
Blanket Bay an early start - though by the time I'd finished having breakfast and packing up it was already 9:30am! Just as well the first section was all on forestry roads, so that I was able to knock off the 12km to Blanket Bay in just two-and-a-half hours. I also managed to spot another koala high up in the uppermost branches of a gum tree beside one such road, after it had given up it's position by grunting loudly and frequently (presumably a territorial call). This was nothing compared to the cacophony of grunts, groans, whistles and screams that the native residents at Elliot Ridge had produced during the night however - which had forced me to employ my ear plugs in order to get back to sleep!
Arriving at Blanket Bay came as a shock to the system, as there were families galore scattered about the beach - most of whom were most likely staying at the car-accessible campground nearby. Finding some relative solitude wasn't too difficult though, as directly behind the beach lay the walk-in only campground, where I enjoyed a scenic lunch looking out over the sheltered waters of the bay, with a rocky reef protecting the
Undulating Trail
Heading towards Cape Otway near the end of day two shoreline from the powerful breakers rolling in from the sea. From Blanket Bay the rest of the day's walk followed a proper hiking trail that first weaved it's way through dry woodland, before topping out on a ridge covered in coastal heath that was full of energetic little birds flitting back and forth. From there it plunged down to cross the estuary of Parker Inlet - where the low tide meant I barely got my feet wet - before tackling the steep climb up the other side on stone steps that led to a viewpoint looking back down over the steep-sided valley.
For the final hour of the day's walk I simply had to follow the cliff-tops towards the whitewashed facade of the Cape Otway Lighthouse, whilst lapping up the views of the rugged shoreline along the way. Upon reaching the campground at Cape Otway I hastily set up my inner tent at the first vacant site I could find, before heading back to take a first-hand look at the oldest surviving lighthouse in mainland Australia, dating from 1848. And while the lighthouse tower itself isn't particularly tall (21 metres), the fact that it sits atop a 70-metre-high cliff
Beacon of Light
Cape Otway Lighthouse meant that the old three-beam light beacon could be seen up to 48km out to sea. That was until 1994 when it was replaced by a much smaller automatic light that sits to the seaward side of the old tower - which can be seen up to 30km out to sea - though the old lighthouse beacon is still maintained in working order, being switched back on at least once a year for the benefit of visitors.
Day three brought another early start, with leaden skies and a persistent drizzle greeting me at 6:45am when my alarm went off. The reason for my unusually early wake up call was the fact that I not only had to walk 24km for the day to make it to the campground above Johanna Beach, but that I would have to walk 2km along the beach to get there, which was only recommended within two hours either side of low tide. Unfortunately this would not be possible, given that low tide was scheduled for 12:20pm and I had 21km to cover before I reached Johanna Beach. But I figured if I got away from Cape Otway early enough and then hauled arse down
Wind and Waves
View of the Aire River mouth from Escarpment Lookout the track, I might be able to hit the beach section by 3pm at the latest, at which point I would just have to hope for the best. Unfortunately the easy walking on forestry tracks from the previous morning was replaced by soft sand for almost the entirety of the ten kilometre stretch between Cape Otway and the intermediate campground at Aire River. This came as a shock to me considering that the trail more or less followed the cliff-tops, yet somehow these particular cliff-tops seemed to be perched atop sand dunes?! I had always believed cliffs to be made of rock - so I guess that demonstrates how little I know about geology!
In any case I somehow managed to make good time through the soft sand, while marvelling at the continued profusion of inch-long millipedes that had been crawling all over the place at Cape Otway - it would be no exaggeration to say that I saw more millipedes in the space of 24 hours than I had in my previous forty years! Snails were also out in force (hardly surprising given the moisture both on the ground and in the air), but the real highlight of
Furry Companion
Swamp Wallaby in the coastal heath the morning had to be the wallaby-watching! And these weren't just any wallabies: all of the ones I encountered had a luxurious coat of dark (almost black) fur - by far the darkest I have ever seen on a wallaby - except for the very tips of their long tails, which were almost yellow! And each one also had that classic wallaby trait (which they share with possums - though New Zealanders would no doubt disagree) of an unbelievably cute face!
After following the cliff-tops west for the first eight kilometres of the day, the track then took a sharp right-hand turn and headed down towards (and across) the tranquil Aire River; and right at the point of the bend sat the Escarpment Lookout, which boasted the finest panorama of the journey so far - stretching from the beach and river mouth all the way back to where the river disappeared out of sight beyond the car-accessible campground. Twenty minutes later (with shoes chock full of sand) I sat at the campground preparing lunch, whilst watching a resident koala having it's lunch in a tree only twenty metres away - only unlike the previous koalas I had seen on
So Sleepy
Koala doing what koalas do best at Aire River campsite this walk, this one was only about five metres off the ground and therefore far easier to see. True to form though, by the time I had finished my lunch and set off, the koala was already fast asleep curled up in a fork in the tree.
But it wasn't long before my next wildlife encounter, as I once again came across
on the trail ahead of me. Only this time the trail took the form of a tunnel through the low-growing coastal vegetation, with a wall of virtually impenetrable scrub on either side. This meant that the only way for the wallaby to get away from me was for it to bounce along down the trail ahead of me... which led to a rather comical state of affairs as time and time again I would round a bend to find myself face-to-face with the wallaby from a distance of between five and ten metres, at which point the wallaby would calmly observe me for a minute or so, while I snapped away with my camera whilst talking to it in a calming voice. Then at some point the wallaby would decide to put more distance between us,
Low Speed Chase
The swamp wallaby that kept me company on the way out of Aire River and so it would bound off down the trail for thirty to forty metres, only to then stop again and wait for me to catch up, so that we could do it all over again! For at least five minutes we would play this game of cat-and-mouse, as every time I rounded the corner the wallaby would suddenly look up at me with a startled expression, at which point I would say "yep, it's me again!" before coming to a stop to let the wallaby decide on it's next move without getting too frightened. Eventually it seemed to sense that it was going to end up at the Twelve Apostles if it kept playing this game, so somehow it managed to squeeze it's way through the dense scrub beside the trail and I was able to continue on my merry way, but I must admit I found those five minutes to be absolutely enchanting! Quite what the wallaby made of our encounter I have no idea...
Reaching the clifftops once more, the track then proceeded to follow the shoreline for the next few kilometres, which brought some of the most exhilarating views of the trail so far. Unfortunately it
Cloud Forest
Lovely section of coastal forest dripping with moisture was at this point that the clouds started to close in and it began to rain lightly again; in fact it would continue to drizzle for the rest of the day's walk. By the time I reached the lookout above Castle Cove - at the only point where the Great Ocean Walk comes into contact with the Great Ocean Road - visibility was down to a few kilometres, and dropping rapidly. It was around this time that a feeling of unease began to rise in the pit of my stomach, as the combination of dark skies, low visibility, incessant rain and pounding surf rolling in from the Southern Ocean - combined with the knowledge that I still had to cross Johanna Beach during a rising tide - lent a somewhat foreboding atmosphere to the rest of the day's walk. But as is so often the case in these situations, there was nothing to do about it but put my head down and keep walking.
After trading the surf-battered coast for another delightfully peaceful stretch of forest, I finally re-emerged high above the shoreline and got my first look down at Johanna Beach. And as bleak as it may have
Stormy Seas
First view of Johanna Beach from above looked in the conditions, the beach was still wide enough to allay any fears I might have had about having to race the tide to get across to the other end. So down I went onto the sand, off came the shoes and socks (which were soaking wet by now anyway), and onwards I trudged through the soft sand as the roar of the Southern Ocean swell drowned out all other noise. And as gruelling as it was at the end of an already long-ish day, I have to admit I loved it! A great part of the attraction for walking this track was to experience the power and fury of this rugged (and historically treacherous) stretch of coastline, and the conditions had conspired to ensure that I felt that sense of awe to maximum effect! But I couldn't help sparing a thought for the fellow hiker I had first spotted from above as she made her way onto the sand, whom I then passed not long after reaching the beach myself, and who seemed to be doing it pretty tough at the time.
So I tried to offer a few encouraging words on my way past (which can
Into the Mist
Following the creek along Johanna Beach be hard to do sometimes without sounding condescending) and then, after finally reaching the trail off the beach and knocking off the final kilometre of the day to the campsite, I boiled up some water, knocked back a cup of tea, and then brewed another cup to offer the woman when she eventually turned up. She was very grateful. Like me she had 'doubled up' each of the past two days - we had spent both nights at the same campsites without seeing each other - but her pace was much slower than mine, meaning that my comfortable six-hour day would be her tiring eight-hour day. All walkers are not created equal, at least not on the trail. But come the end of the day one of the great things about spending time in the outdoors is meeting like-minded people - regardless of age, or gender, or background - and sharing experiences. It was no different with Monika from Poland, whom I sat around talking to (we were the only two people in the campsite after all) for most of the evening; and who ultimately proved herself to be tougher than me, by pressing on to complete another double stage
Reward for Effort
The campsite above Johanna Beach the next day, while I took it easy and stopped halfway. By the time I had woken up in the morning, she was already gone.
But with only 14km to my next campground and no further time pressures to worry about, there was no way I was going to be in a rush to leave, especially as the Johanna Beach campground was the highlight of my walk so far! Imagine trudging through soft sand under constant drizzle for hours on end, only to then climb a hill, turn a corner and find yourself perched on the top of a 50-metre-high cliff looking straight down the length of a long golden-sand beach, with miles of coastline stretching out beyond that, accompanied by the constant roar of powerful Southern Ocean swells rolling in and crashing against the beach. Well, that was the campsite at Johanna Beach (though it was actually perched on top of Slippery Point) and with the shelter perfectly oriented to take full advantage of those amazing views, I was content to while away the entire morning in that spot.
It wasn't until after midday that I managed to build up the necessary motivation to get moving, but
when I did the rewards were immediate, with a disused 4WD track taking me up the crest of a ridge that separated the wave-battered shoreline from the serene pastoral valley of Johanna Creek. From there the route followed unsealed roads inland for the next hour or so, leaving the forested confines of Great Otways National Park for the first time since I had left Apollo Bay. But eventually I returned to the coastline to make the trek across Melanesia Beach, which - with it's extensive rocky reefs scattered about the shallows and piles of dislodged kelp littered across the sand - wasn't exactly the most inviting beach I've ever come across, but then that's part of the attraction with this stretch of coast: if you want beautiful beaches backed by palm trees, visit the Whitsundays; but if you want to experience first-hand the ongoing battle between sea and land - and see for yourself the rugged beauty of the coastline that collision has created - then this is the place to do it. Just leave the bathing suit at home.
After climbing steeply up from Melanesia Beach the trail undulated considerably as it weaved it's way over and around
From Green to Grey
The climb up from Melanesia Beach the thickly-forested coastal slopes, before culminating in a 132-step staircase leading straight up the side of a ridge, that knocked the wind right out of me and had me cursing the builders of such a trail - though in their defence they had at least placed a bench seat for hikers to rest on once they reached the top of the climb! Actually this is something I had noticed frequently over the past four days - wherever there is a trail junction or a lookout or any other place that people may want to stop at, there always seems to be a seat of some sort that has been placed there specifically to serve the tired hiker. Combined with the excellent shelters at each campsite - all of which have rainwater tanks and compost toilets nearby - this really makes a profound difference to the experience (and enjoyment) of walking any long-distance trail, and the track makers should be applauded for their foresight.
And so my relief was palpable when I finally reached the campground at Ryan's Den, perched atop the crest of a high ridgeline separating two steeply-sloping bays, with a scenic lookout point (complete with it's own
Under Gloomy Skies
View from Ryan's Den bench seats) located just a short flight of stone steps beyond the last of the tent sites. And just as I expected, I had the place all to myself! I couldn't help feeling that the effort I had put in over the previous two days had allowed me to reap the rewards for the remainder of the walk, now that the long weekend crowds had all disappeared back to their everyday lives.
That feeling continued into the fifth day of my trek, though the constant ups and downs between Ryan's Den and Moonlight Head served as a reminder that not all the hard work was behind me. But this was followed by a wonderful stretch of trail through the beautiful native forest of Moonlight Valley, where the constant roar of the sea faded away to be replaced by nothing but birdsong and the sound of wind in the trees. After the relentless bombardment of sound generated by those Southern Ocean swells (which had built to between two and three metres over the past couple of days) slamming against the shore, the contrasting quietude of the forest had an almost-meditative quality.
But, this being the Great Ocean Walk, it
Anchored in Time
The anchor from the Marie Gabrielle, standing proud on Wreck Beach was never going to last! Emerging from the forest to extensive views from the cliff-top lookout at The Gables, I then tackled the 380 steps leading all the way down to Wreck Beach, where the volume was turned up to maximum again. Passing the anchors of both the Fiji (which sunk in 1891) and the Marie Gabrielle (1869) - after which the beach is named - I came to a narrow point at the base of the cliffs, where a quick scramble led me through a pile of rocks of every imaginable shape and colour!
Eventually the beach ran out where a trail snaked it's way back up towards the clifftops, and no sooner had I left the beach than I could already make out the small toilet block of the Devil's Kitchen campground against the blue sky - which, with the exception of about an hour the previous day, had been notably absent throughout the trek up to this point. I'm still not sure whether I was happier to see the campground or the sunshine, but it didn't matter because in ten minutes I would be enjoying both!
The so-called Devil's Kitchen is actually a section of
Sunshine at Last
View from Devil's Kitchen coastline where the shoreline continues more or less in a straight direction, while the clifftops curve around in the shape of a horseshoe, with a sort of sunken valley occupying the space in the middle. And though, like the day before at Ryan's Den, the campsite itself was tucked in just behind the crest of the ridge, once again there was a lookout point with a conveniently-placed bench seat located just past the last of the tent sites, offering a grandstand view down over the western end of Wreck Beach and beyond out to the Southern Ocean. And once again, the campsite was all mine for the night... or so I thought, until a pair of young men turned up just before sunset, having walked in from the Twelve Apostles. Why they were walking in the opposite direction to everyone else (the entire track is supposed to be one-way only, from east to west) I had no idea, but it soon became clear that one of the men was on his first ever overnight walk, so his mate (who was in the army) was very much the 'expedition leader'. And I guess when you're in the army rules don't apply
From Source to Sea
View of the Gellibrand River estuary from the trail to you.
My sixth and final day on the trail started early, as I tackled the final 16km between Devil's Kitchen and the Twelve Apostles, weaving my way along the clifftops for most of the way. Having dropped down to cross the Gellibrand River on the outskirts of Princetown, it wasn't long after returning to the clifftops that I got my first view of the Twelve Apostles standing proudly up ahead. Less than an hour later, I was there. With the trail officially finishing at the visitor information centre, I stopped there to cook up some lunch, before crossing the road to check out the views of the towering outcrops of the Apostles rising up out of the surf just offshore from the coastal cliffs. Despite the catchy name, there are in fact only nine of these limestone sea stacks... or at least there were, until one crumbled into the sea in 2005, followed by another in 2009! How long the remaining seven will last against the constant onslaught of the Southern Ocean, only time will tell...
Despite having reached the end of the Great Ocean Walk, I still had another dozen kilometres to go to reach my
Threading through the Dunes
The final section of trail leading towards the Twelve Apostles accommodation in Port Campbell, which gave me the opportunity to revisit another of the Great Ocean Road's highlights (and one that I personally consider to be at least as impressive as the Twelve Apostles - despite being nowhere near as popular) just three kilometres down the road: Loch Ard Gorge. Named after a famous shipwreck located nearby, the 'gorge' actually consists of a lovely sandy beach protected by formidable cliffs on either side, both of which extend out into the sea for hundreds of metres and are separated only by a narrow inlet. And for those that take the time to walk down onto the sand, there is even a large cave at the base of the cliff behind the beach. It is truly a spectacular sight, and unlike the Twelve Apostles one that visitors can experience up close.
Ninety minutes later my walk finally came to an end (112km and six days after I had left Apollo Bay) at the tiny coastal settlement of Port Campbell (population: 478). Featuring the only sheltered swimming beach on the Great Ocean Road - bookended by an impressive set of coastal cliffs - Port Campbell would prove to be the perfect place
Socially Distancing
Two of the remaining seven sea stacks of the Twelve Apostles to relax and recuperate under a sunny sky the following day. But my ultimate reason for choosing to end my walk there instead of at the Twelve Apostles (both of which are served by bus three times per week) was to spend the night at the Port Campbell Hostel, which is attached to the Sow & Piglets (the original name for the Twelve Apostles) brewery. Because what better way to finish a long walk than by checking into a nice room, having a well-earned (and much needed) shower, and then heading downstairs to sample some quality beers without even having to leave the building?!? I might have been denied the chance to finish my week-long Alpine NP traverse at the Crank Handle brewery a month earlier due to the snap coronavirus lockdown, but this time I wasn't to be denied!
Advertisement
Tot: 0.073s; Tpl: 0.027s; cc: 8; qc: 24; dbt: 0.0275s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.2mb
