4 Nights on the Great Ocean Walk

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16 March 2009

“Ummm…Carlo, where are my in-soles?”

A flash of panic washed over me. I quickly scanned the back of the van although, in my mind’s eye, I could already see them, stacked one upon the other, on the shoe rack at home. We were already 250 kms away from them. Yvonne’s orthotics were not going to make the trip.

Thus began our five day, four night hike along Victoria’s southwestern shores.

Johanna Beach

About the trail

The Great Ocean Road is Australia’s answer to Highway 1 in California. It is Italy’s Almafi Coast down under. A more deliberate way to see this cliff-ridden stretch of coastline is to leg it on the Great Ocean Walk (GOW), a 100 kilometer seaside trail between Apollo Bay and Glenample. It’s an 8-day, 7-night walk – too hardcore for us. We opted for a section of the walk, referred to as the GOW Highlight as it contains the best scenery.

The Highlight starts at Johanna Beach, heads west, and ends at Glenample, approximately half the full distance. Along the walk are hike-in campsites, spaced about 15 km apart, placed atop bluffs teetering over the ocean. Each campground has eight sites which need to be booked ahead of time.

Trail difficulty is always subjective. Our abilities lay somewhere in the middle. We’re neither embattled, purist trekkers nor green, wheezing hikers. The trail is an up and down affair as it follows the topography of the fingers of land reaching into the waters. Without heavy packs it would be a relatively easy walk, but with carrying a tent, water, and food (among other essentials) our bags weighed around 12 kg, which made the walk moderate-to-difficult.

Camping on cliff at Joahha Beach

Day 1: Arrival at Johanna Beach

Leaving work early still got us to our destination at dusk. We parked and, with darkness creeping over like someone slowly pushing down the dimmer switch, made the short hike into the Johanna Beach campsite. With a headlamp lighting the way, we wound our way through the empty sites, seeking out our lucky number 8. Over the next few days we would discover that site 8 is always the furthest from the entrance and nearest the cliff’s edge. These sites afford the best views and are handed out to those who book first.

It was a bit unnerving to find ourselves alone and in the dark, but we had tasks to do, and the light rain made it more pressing. We hastily, but methodically, erected our shelter and patted ourselves on the back for buying such a great tent that set up in the wink of an eye. As we snuggled into our sleeping bags, the aloneness enveloped us. Each tiny sound outside the nylon walls perked our ears up like alert dogs; it was difficult to fall asleep.

The crashing ocean below was a constant drone that eventually became our new still. I tried to tease out unique sounds from the rumble – to focus on a single breaking wave – but it was impossible. It was a solid wall of noise, similar to a waterfall, that was there each time we woke during the night.

Day 2: Johanna Beach to Ryan’s Den

This morning we discovered another couple in the camp, who we later found out were German. We weren’t alone after all. Walking past, we gave each other the cursory half-smiles and nods while they brushed their teeth.

Milanesia Beach

Long haul treks like this are an exercise in simplicity. Untreated rain water is available at all the campgrounds, but since it is scarce one tends to use each measured drop carefully. We discovered how far one liter can go: we made a hot breakfast, a bottle of tea, brushed our teeth and even washed up a little. There is a campaign in Victoria right now called Target 155, which challenges each resident to limit their water usage to 155 liters per day. At the rate we were using it we could’ve met Target 10.

Another issue was rubbish. Since there is no garbage pickup anywhere along the trail, it’s “take out what you take in”, so we were very mindful of any waste we would be producing.

Before you begin the walk, it’s necessary to research the forecasted tide times as there are a couple of beach walks that are inaccessible at high tide. Milanesia Beach, about half-way to Ryan’s Den, is one of these. It’s 1.5 km along the sand, on which we passed by cliff faces with perfectly round stones embedded in them, as if they were blasted out of a shotgun. These stones gave the cliff face a resemblance to rock-climbing practice walls.

Back atop the cliffs, we spotted our first kangaroos, who always pop their heads up in curiosity as you pass by. Blackberry bushes abounded during part of this stretch and we took the opportunity to feast on nature’s smorgasboard.

Curious kangaroo

We reached Ryan’s Den at a much better time than the previous night, which allowed us a leisurely wind down. Once again, the grounds were all but empty and someone had set up camp in our beloved site #8! It was the same couple from Johanna Beach. We politely pointed this out to them and he gave us the old excuse “oh, we didn’t notice the numbers”. Yeah right, buddy. Now get to steppin’!

It should be noted here that there is a huge difference between “cycle to/from work 18 km shape” and “hike up/down 15 km carrying big backpacks shape”, especially when Yvonne has to double-sock it to cushion her feet from the hard, flat bottoms of her hiking boots. We were sore as hell pulling up at camp. Once set up, we walked two minutes up the grassy knoll, breathed in the sea air, and had a long, hard stretch. A new familiarity with the crashing-ocean soundtrack combined with fatigue helped us in having a great night’s sleep.

Day 3: Ryan’s Den to Devil’s Kitchen

The scenery

A breakfast of oatmeal, cinnamon, dried fruits and nuts followed some light yoga on the grassy knoll. We packed up our gear and hit the trail, emerging out of the green forest into contrasting yellow, hilly farmland. The eclectic vegetation along this walk kept us interested. A lot of hikes take you through scenery that never changes and that after a while becomes a bore. As we crested each ridge and descended into each valley, the colours and textures changed constantly.

The sun made its first real appearance for us, turning the sea a Mediterranean blue. About half-way between the two campsites we reached the Moonlight Head Retreat. Advertised on their gate were drinks (tea/coffee/water/sodas) and food (cookies/gourmet chocolates). We’d only been in the bush for two nights, but we felt like contestants on Survivor – 28 days in, living on bland rice and boiled fish. The temptation was too much for us. We dipped inside for a Coke and a Tim-Tam before pressing on.

There comes a point on every long hike where rambunctious, unhindered awe becomes desperate, grim determination. You start ignoring your surroundings, put your head down and power onward. Pole is planted in front of pole, foot in front of foot.

“Each step moves us on, here we go. Onward, forward still miles to go“

The road ahead

During this time, you experience a series of high hopes and lowly letdowns. As you approach each peak, round each bend, you’re secretly wishing for a sign that the end is near, but those wishes are crushed when you find the trail continuing into the unforeseeable distance.

It’s also when you know it’s time to stop, drop the pack, take a breather and munch on some trail mix. A few of these rest stops later we finally entered the Devil’s Kitchen entrance. It wasn’t the warmest of welcomes though. Viewed from atop, the low forest looks normal and unassuming, but beneath the canopy it’s a different story. The trunks and branches are withered, dry, gray and cracked. They twist at eerie angles and bend away from the trail as if frightened by the light. These are the kind of trees that you’re sure, when no one is looking, whisper dark secrets to each other.

Even though this campground was in their plan, the German couple we’d been tailing up to now never made it. We worried for them, wondering why they weren’t there. They left a good hour before us from Ryan’s Den and were faster walkers; they should have been there. I already had the headline from the next day’s newspaper in my head: “Backpacks of missing German hikers found”. We’ve watched enough Law & Order as well to know that we’d be the first suspects brought “downtown”, since we were the last to see them alive.

Entry to Devil's Kitchen

More than that though, we didn’t want to be alone in that Harry Potter forest overnight. As it was, the exhaustion overtook us after dinner and we slept soundly anyway.

Day 4: Wreck Beach and Devil’s Kitchen to Princetown

The GOW runs along what is known as the Shipwreck Coast. Over 200 ships have sunk in these parts, many from the gold rush days in the mid-1800s, when immigrants were making their way to the sunburned country. On Day 3, prior to reaching Devil’s Kitchen, we bypassed Wreck Beach as it is impassable during high tide. Devil’s Kitchen overlooks the western end of the beach, so this morning, and without our packs, we descended down the ridge to check out the remains of two ships that sunk close by. A couple of rusted anchors and what looked to be some sort of drive shaft were all that was left.

We followed the water’s edge to the other end of the beach and climbed the 366 steps. Another short hike in the bush brought us to the Gable Lookout, a wooden platform built into the edge of a cliff, high above the sea. We watched waves wash atop large flat rocks in the ocean, then recede back leaving thin wisps of foamy, white water. From a distance it was very peaceful and serene, but you know that betrayed the true violence of the erosive action. We would be swept away like a grain of sand if we were standing on that rock, and Nature wouldn’t think anything of it.

Wreck Beach

Ninety minutes later we were back at camp, whipping up lunch and preparing to complete the walk. Strapping on the backpacks for the last time, we exited the spooky forest and found the 4×4 track that leads to Princetown. This is by far the most unpleasant part of the walk and an anti-climax to the gorgeous hike we’d had up to then. Much of the road was sandy and pitted, making walking more difficult than it needed to be. We also shared it with the odd 4×4 driving past – always the inhabitants smiled and waved at us. From camp to town it was an eight kilometer walk. As luck would have it, this was the sunniest day with the least clouds, and the track was fully exposed with not much shade for respite. Many times I thought about the hat I lost on the second day.

At times we cursed the GOW for not continuing the trail, making us walk on this ugly road, but we trudged along, finally making it into Princetown. It’s a lovely entrance – you cross over the snaking Gellibrand River, then walk across marshlands on a wooden boardwalk that leads to the Apostles Camping, our home for the night. Princetown consists of a single road which is flanked by the only two establishments in town: our campground, whose reception also acts as the post office, general store, petrol station and cafe/diner (the Do Duck In), and the Talk of the Town, which also wears many hats as a restaurant, tavern, bottle shop, and motel.

Path to Princetown campground

We’d already walked around 18 kms on the day, but that didn’t stop us from doing another six after dinner. Showered up and with full bellies, we bought a carrot cake slice and found the GOW again (Princetown is not the end of it). Back into the bush we again followed it up and down, wondering when we’d first catch a glimpse of the famous 12 Apostles (which, by the way, used to be called the “Sow and Piglets”). They eventually came into view and we continued walking, losing sight of them as we dipped into the valley, and again spying them as we peaked the ridge. We did this a few more times until the last peak, where the GOW ends, and where we sat ourselves down to watch a golden sunset and feast on some beta-carotine goodness.

The Apostles

Along with the setting sun comes the end of daylight, so we found ourselves walking in the growing darkness along the road towards our camp. Over six kilometers of smooth Australian asphalt separated us from our fluffy, warm sleeping bags. We were spent. We were done. I found my thumb sticking up at the few passing cars. And then one stopped. We’d never hitch-hiked before, but we’ve learned enough being on the road that it’s not as dangerous as people like to make out.

Sunset

We hosted a diminutive French fellow not too long ago who was traveling solo and almost entirely by hitchhiking. In Russia, one of our hosts swore by it and didn’t travel any other way. So we weren’t too scared that we’d be pulling over a knife-weilding, crazy-eyed killer. And we didn’t. What we did get were two young, friendly Germans who were in Australia on business. They were more than happy to pick us up; one ran out and opened up the trunk for us, not realizing all we had was a daybag.

Aside from giving us some funny conversation, they saved us ninety minutes of walking that we didn’t have left in us. We were dropped right in front of our campground and we gratefully waved goodbye to them.

Day 5: Homeward Bound

Cracked earth

There are shuttle services along the Great Ocean Road. For GOW walkers who drive to one end to begin, they need to be shuttled back to their car when the walk is complete. For $65, we made an arrangement with GOR Shuttle to transport us the 50 km back to Johanna Beach. We talked as he drove and learned about the area. He told us that the park received some funding to finish the GOW. There are plans to make more trail so all of the road walking we did will be a thing of the past. Who knows when this will be done, but it’s surely good news as that was our only qualms about the hike.

When we finally arrived home and opened the door, our eyes swung downward straight away at Yvonne’s in-soles. Neglected for the long weekend, and sorely missed by Yvonne’s aching arches, they missed one of the best hiking experiences we’ve had up to now.

Click here for the GOW Photo Album