Sunday, 21 July 2019

Cape to cape

There are a few trails in Australia I have always hoped to do, but realistically figured I might get the chance in about a decade. When we started planning our West Australia trip, I threw out the idea of getting to walk a portion of the cape to cape trail and was excited when Jakob encouraged me to do the whole thing. Not wanting to cut into our week-long family holiday I planned on three days of intense walking to complete the 128 kilometres. Except a couple of days before my start, I realised flaws in my plan: enthusiasm alone might not be enough to carry me through three back to back marathons with no training, it gets dark early in the winter and getting out early would involve the miracle of getting the whole family up and out early, and our accommodation was at exactly the halfway point which didn’t work with my three day plan. 

So in the end I did the trail as four day hikes. I hoped to run the first 10 kilometres each day but after my soreness the first day gave up that plan for walking and as I felt less and less sore each day despite the increase in kilometres I think the running was too much to undertake untrained. The trail was beautiful and though I was alone I had the constant companionship of the ocean lapping back and forth as I plodded forward. The first day I ran 12 kilometres and walked 18. I had to take off my shoes twice to cross streams. It took about six hours so we had time to go to winery for wine and cheese after which was how every day of hiking should end. 

The second day I had 34 kilometres to walk, but a winter closure and detour turned it into 38. Much of the day I meandered through a maze of coastal shrubbery about as high as my shoulders. I had great views of the ocean much of the day and was lucky enough to be around when the newly installed shark warning system went off. When tagged sharks come to close to shore, sirens on the hills start blaring and a robotic voice proclaims, "Shark warning! Please get out of the water!" Over and over. I looked and looked for the shark but never spotted anything but frothy white wave caps. Later a hiker I met informed me that tagging is a hopeful new strategy because there are only 700 adult great whites in the waters around Australia and New Zealand. Her point was one of i't's not that bad' but 700 seems loads to me. She also explained that most death from shark bites are not due to the bites at all but to the very fast blood loss due to osmotic forces from being in ocean water. Who knew? The detour on roads was sad and made me impressed by the amount of road walking Jakob and I did without going insane. 

The third day was my longest at 40 kilometers. As I was leaving from our accommodation, I could set out earlier. This was the first day the trail went through forest instead of coastal shrubs and I realised that shade makes it easier to walk. The last 7 kilometers were beach walking. But like all the beaches on the trail, they are perfect for napping but make for hard work when walking. I followed tire tracks to make the plodding easier and when they disappeared I walked in someone else’s footsteps and thought about how nice it would be to whittle away my trudging in conversation with Jakob. I ended early enough that we could go to a chocolate factory and try a wide variety of chocolates ranging from sickly sweet white chocolate to rare Amazonian 100 percent cocoa morsels. 

The last day I had 25 kilometers which seemed easy in comparison. Except there was about 10 kilometers of beach walking. Trudging through sand under the scorching sun is both meditative and exhausting. I followed other hikers' footprints (a set of large and a set of smaller) and when they disappeared and were replaced by dog prints I spent a long time contemplating what might have happened the most obvious conclusion being the transformation of the hikers into a dog, and the profound realisation that paw prints are not worth following. At one point I could see where the smaller prints began walking in the larger and was touched by this sign of hiker romance and nostalgic for the days when my husband used to carry me across streams. Given the fantastical digressions of my thoughts I was relieved when I finally found myself on soil again and before I knew it my ocean companion was replaced by bounding feet and bouncy tangled hair guiding me to the lighthouse cafe. I felt content and accomplished and thankful to have gotten four days of bushwalking. Also if I don’t have to walk across any beaches in the next few weeks I won't mind.

It was all this beautiful 
A rare rocky beach


Look how soft the sand is! 
More beach walking!


The support team

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