The Coast Walk
Royal National Park, New South Wales
Australia

    5:8:2000

    The train ride from the Circular Quay to Cronulla was uneventful. Took the Ferry to Bundeena after the guys who ran the ferry took their lunch break. Once over in Bundeena, I must have walked three or four kilometers just to get to the beginning of the trail. The trail starts out paved, and continues along for about half a kilometer.

    Off to the left, there's a sand turnout with a plaque that gives some information about the plants on the Coastal Walk, with two paths leading off toward the ocean. The road continued on straight. I read the sign. It didn't suggest which way to turn. I'd been told this walk was so popular that the trail was practically a highway. That being so, I stayed on the paved part. I was wrong. I turned around after about another half kilometer when the road stopped in a big field.

    Get used to me using words like "turned around" and "back tracked." They come up often in this story.

    The scenery was nice. Beautiful clear sky, scorched sandstone, green coastal heath and the most shockingly blue ocean I've seen since Maui. I could see over the land for quite a ways because there aren't many trees. Evidently, there was a large fire in 1994 that wiped nearly everything out.

    I hit the cliffs overlooking the coast, and I followed them for quite a while. I took some pictures of the sandstone because it was so pretty, but after a while, the pictures start to look the same. Cliffs, ocean, sand, heath, etc. There weren't any flowers because it's autumn below the equator.

    After an hour or two, I made it to a bluff overlooking two beaches and a lagoon. Walking north to south, it was Marley Lagoon, Big Marley and Little Marley. However, the path ran all over the place at the top of the bluff. The trail had run in stream beds earlier on the trail, but since this was a big hill, there were like 10 streams beds. I, evidently, chose the wrong one.

    I spent 30 minutes climbing, scrambling, fighting through brush and everything else until I figured out this was obviously too difficult to be correct. I decided to climb back up and try a different path. That took another 10 minutes, which included a little rock climbing and backpack heaving.

    Then I saw the sign-post half-way down the hill for Marley. Evidently, the trick was to stick near the ocean cliffs, as opposed to finding a path down the gentle streambeds. Remember this, because I certainly didn't.

    I was pissed off at this point, and started cursing Australia's Department of Land and Recreation for their total lack of trail maintenance. I mean, how hard is it to stick a fucking pole in the ground to mark a trail?

    Once I got down, Marley was gorgeous. I don't think I took any pictures of the lagoon, but the beach was pretty enough. On the way over to Little Marley, I saw a spider the size of a saucer skitter under some rocks into the waves. Scared me to death. It was probably the kind of spider that eats fish and hunts sea birds and snacks on hikers. Have I ever mentioned I think "Arachnophobia" is the scariest movie ever?

    I went past Little Marley, up a real goat trail to the ridge above it. Then, realizing how late it was, I turned around and went to camp at Little Marley. There were some nice, soft grass campgrounds and a place to build a fire.

    I pitched the tent, but couldn't figure out the campstove. Either it was an inferno or a match flame. Neither appealed to me, and all I wanted to do was write by it. Of course, once night fell, I could've written by the stars and moon it was so bright.

    I tossed and turned all night, mostly because I forgot to open the valve to inflate the self-inflating sleeping pad. I did have a wonderful dream that I'd stepped out of the tent of the middle of the night, and all the constellations put on a show just for me. But it was so vivid, I woke myself out of it.

    5:9:2000

    Woke up with a fine mist over the tent from, I assume, the sea spray. I camped only about 200 yards from the ocean. I walked up to the rocks overlooking Little Marley and watched the sun rise while enjoying a Power Bar and half a liter of water. It was a great morning.

    I packed everything up quickly and hit the trail. No real problems for a while, though I AGAIN got lost trying to cross a stream at Curracurrang. I went inland, thinking the path went to a more gentle downhill trail. No. Instead the path went straight down another cliff that required even more scrambling than when I'd gotten lost the previous day.

    I finally made it to Garie after walking up and down about a billion hills. My legs were really starting to burn, and I felt a little dehydrated. On top of which, I'd begun to run out of water.

    The descent into Garie was another cliff, but at least it was fairly well marked. The switchbacks were so steep I could reach up and touch the path above me.

    Garie has a members-only surf club, which I find hilarious. Unfortunately, it was closed, but there were people in the water surfing, and there were cars in the parking lot. I changed into a dry pair of shorts in the public bathrooms, and took a five-minute break. This was the second such break I'd taken since I set out at around 7 a.m., about 3.5 hours earlier. As I strode off again, there was a sign that said Otford, my terminus, was only 7.5 kilometers away. I felt invigorated. That meant it'd be another two hours, tops.

    I rounded a few heads scrambling over the rocks. It was exhilerating at first, bouncing and jumping between rocks. But after a while, it gets really, really tiring carrying a 55-lb pack and not making nearly the progress I was earlier. Adrenaline can only carry you so far.

    A little further south, I entered the two Era beaches. Both are small, seasonal vacation villages with maybe a dozen shacks rising up into the hills. The shacks have no electricity and no running water. For the most part, they were deserted during this off-season.

    I later found out these shacks have really sprung up in recent years because leases can now be passed down through families. Bear in mind, this is the world's second oldest national park behind Yellowstone, so setting up a vacation home shouldn't be easy.

    At South Era, there were even more houses, and huge herd of deer. Evidently, deer were introduced in the 19th Century, and have flourished with no natural predators. You'd think the Australians would learn about introducing species after the whole rabbit and fox trauma they had.

    Beyond South Era, I hit Burning Palms. I was really running low on water, and was exhausted from all the scrambling. On top of which, I had to go over a huge hill to get into Burning Palms. It added up to near death.

    I didn't see the path on the southern end of Burning Palms, so I asked a fisherman I came across how to get to Otford. He said to go around the next two heads, and I'd see Otford.

    "More scrambling," I said. "Fuck. OK. Buck up camper, it can't be too much farther."

    When I got around the second head, I freaked. Nothing but cliffs with water crashing against them. "Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit."

    I turned around, totally out of water. I freaked out and worried all the way back to Burning Palms.

    Once there, I filled two of my jugs from a stream coming out of the hills in Burning Palms. I mentioned the fishing village there, right? And the deer? And the fact I didn't have chlorine tablets or even a goddamn water filter?

    Drinking water from an unfiltered stream is never a good idea. Giardia is a organism often passed through feces, and is found in streams like these. Giardia gives you two fun weeks of all sorts of fun intestinal dysfunction, including vomiting, diarrhea, severe abdominal cramps, and tiredness. But between passing out in the wilderness from dehydration and suffering through a biblical case of the runs in an Australian hospital later, I picked the latter.

    I emptied my shoes of sand, filled up with water, and managed to locate the path I couldn't find earlier (there were a million footprints in the sand leading to it, duh!), and took the overland trail instead of the beach trail. I passed an empty ranger station on the way up the steepest goat trail I've ever been on. This did not inspire confidence in me.

    After two kilometers, I reached the Palm Jungle. Wherein the trail disappeared again and I became lost. Like hopelessly lost. Like shouting for "help" lost. Like busting through the forest and hoping to God I didn't fall off a cliff lost.

    So I turned around. See, here's the thing: I wasn't actually lost. I knew the direction I needed to walk, except I couldn't walk there. There were trees and vines and stickers and crap in my way.

    I gave up. With possibly tainted water and feeling quite faint from a lack of food, I decided to hike back to Garie and test the hitchhiking market. Yes, at Garie. That's a good five kilometers back the other way over hill and dale. And lots of rock scrambling fun, where a mistake puts me in the churning sea with a 55-lb anchor tied to my back.

    In case you hadn't noticed, I began to feel a little dramatic. It was about 2:30 p.m., but the sun seemed to be getting really close to the cliffs. I didn't want to be here when it got dark.

    As I walked up them, the hills felt enormous and completely vertical. I don't think I could've walked much slower. And I felt sooo dejected from failing to reach my goal.

    At some point, I saw a Wallaby, which is basically a small kangaroo. It jumped out and ran into another thicket, scaring the crap out of me. That, or I was hallucinating. It seemed real, though.

    At South Era, I ran into a couple of day hikers, and asked if they knew where I could hitch a ride. They suggested I head back up the hill I just came down, then head up another hill for three or four kilometers where I could get to a highway to hitchhike. I figured Garie's parking lot was closer, and they agreed and suggested we walk back together.

    We went up another hill, rounded a few heads, took a quick break, then made it to the parking lot. Just before we rounded the head at Garie, they offered to drive me to the train station. They could see I was suffering badly. And I was.

    I don't remember ever feeling quite so drained, and I've done a few long-distance open water swims that took forever. But nothing like this. I'd walked almost without anything more than very short breaks for 8.5 hours.

    Anyway, the couple was really sweet to me. His name was Ron, but I forget her name. Cathy maybe? She was Scottish, he was Australian. They were a handsome looking middle-age couple. I felt awful for interrupting their day hike, but I think they saw how totally sacked I was.

    They refused to give me their address. I wanted to be able to send them something: a gift for helping me, like maybe our first-born son. But they wouldn't hear of it. They said this was good hiking karma.

    On the train ride home, I drank three Powerades and ate a Snickers bar. I kept waiting for the bad water to start giving me severe abdominal cramps or horrible flatulence, but it didn't happen. But just thinking about it made me sick to my stomach, so that was enjoyable.

    So now it's the next day and my feet ache. I've got a very tiny blister on my heel. From the Too Much Information Department, I can report that I'm thoroughly chafed. My quads and shoulders are a little sore. But I made it, and it seems to have made a nice little story.

    (5:16:2000 -- I found out, though, that Giardia's symptoms don't hit for 7-10 days, which means I'm just now entering the symptom window. Whee! However, I've read most adults don't have severe problems. They might get just a little case of the runs they attribute to a bad french fry at McDonalds. So far, I'm OK.)

- Thom