“If it's your job to eat a frog, it's best to do it first thing in the morning. And If it's your job to eat two frogs, it's best to eat the biggest one first.”
— Mark Twain
Getting ThereI walked the Great Ocean Walk in 2006, at the end of its first year of opening. At the time, it formally only extended between Apollo Bay and Glenample Homestead, a total 95.6 km (based on the totals for the stages.) It now extends 10 km further, to the Twelve Apostles Visitor Centre; I covered that stage in 2006, too, walking on the roadside wherever there were no walking tracks.
Because it was Christmas, I pre-booked a 21st December cabin (“Marie Gabrielle”) at Marengo Holiday Park, which effectively sat astride the Walk. So my first day’s walk was about 3 km shorter than the official count made it.
In 2006, there were only seven hike-in campsites on the GOW: Elliot Ridge (9.9 km, 9.9 km), Blanket Bay (11.6 km, 21.5 km), Cape Otway (10.5, 32 km), Aire River (9.7, 41.7 km), Johanna (13.6, 55.3 km), Ryans Den (12.4, 67.7 km), Devils Kitchen (15.3 km, 83 km), Glenample Homestead (12.9, 95.6 km). There were also four drive-in campsites, at Blanket Bay, Parker Hill, Aire River and Johanna Beach, which I ignored. In planning, I set up the seven walk-in camps as checkpoints, with the end of the Walk as an 8th checkpoint since I wasn’t going to Glenample.
I was very overweight and quite unfit. The GOW presented a challenge to me. I had plenty of leave days available after my scheduled walk — the whole New Year’s Day long weekend, in fact — but Elliot River seemed too short a first day walk, and Blanket Bay was sold out and had even held an auction for the waitlist. Making Aire River a short second day and Johanna Beach a medium third day would have made complete sense, but for some reason I can’t now recall I didn’t want to do that.
After a lot of thought, I settled on five stages for my walk: Apollo Bay to Cape Otway (32 km) to Johanna (23.3 km) to Ryans Den (12.4 km) to Devils Kitchen (15.3) to the Glenample exit (12.9 km). That gave me a grinding 29 km (32 less 3) on the first day when I was freshest but carrying the most weight, yet put me ahead of the rush of people who would fill up the earlier camps come Friday night. Booking the four GOW sites cost me $85 ($20 each, plus a $5 fee).
I made no other pre-bookings. Each day I rang ahead to likely caravan parks in the next town. If all the caravan parks at Princetown, Port Campbell or Peterborough had been full on my day, I planned to go find a quiet spot outside town and camp. As it happened, I always got in somewhere.
Calculating the kilometres for the stages after the end of the official Walk was tricky, as I was cutting back and forth on tourist tracks to reach viewing places. From the end of the Walk back to the Apostles Camping Park by road is about 5.2 km, but I did not go that way. From Apostles Camping Park to Port Campbell Caravan Park by road is about 18 km, but I did not go directly there. And from Port Campbell Caravan Park to GOR Tourist Park by road is 12.8 km, but, yep, I did not go directly there. On my last day I walked a stretch beyond Peterborough. Call it at least 42 km, straight line, 50+ km all up.
In this report, “GOW” is always Great Ocean Walk, and “GOR” is Great Ocean Road. Saves a bit of typing. On the GOW between 21 and 29 Dec, Sunrise progressed from 5:58 to 6:03, Sunset from 20:51 to 20:54, and Moon phase from New to 1st Quarter.
I was working in an office building at the French end of Collins Street. I had brought all my gear to work that day, and when I changed to my track outfit I left my office clothes in a desk drawer.
Knotting the laces on my lightweight hiking boots in the office toilet was an odd sensation; the last time I had worn them in earnest was during my Eclipse trip earlier in the year. But I had been wearing them regularly in the last month or so, taking long walks in evenings and at weekends to toughen myself up for the GOW. I had worn them to the “Long Walk” event at Albert Park Lake just three weeks ago, and on long walks in the Yarra Bend since.
I walked to Parliament Station and grabbed a Loop train round to the then brand-new Southern Cross. It was the first time I had taken a V/Line train from the new station, and it took me a while to find which platform(s) the Geelong trains left from.
My train left Southern Cross about 17:30 and arrived into Geelong about 18:25, but I took my first picture for the trip from aboard the Apollo Bay bound coach at 18:45, when we were already south of the Mt Duneed Rd intersection.
We pulled in outside the GOR Information Centre about 20:45, and I went inside and signed in, and picked up the latest on the state of the GOW. I grabbed some takeaway for supper and walked south on the main road until I reached Marengo Caravan Park about 21:30. I booked in, tossed everything on a table, and hit the sack. My alarm was set for 05:00.
Cabin to GOW, 250 metres, 3 minutes
By 5:30 I was up, showered, and packed. My pack bulged with tent, sleeping bag, foam mattress, cooking gear, and food for five days and four nights, enough to get me to Princetown. For entertainment I had a tiny MP3 player and a set of lightweight headphones. I also had several litres of water for today, with a filter and purification tabs to make more at camps.
I took my traditional doorstep photo at 5:36, then turned south. There was a faint red gleam of approaching sunrise between banked clouds. I walked through the van park and exited at 5:39 where a sign told me “Great Ocean Walk | Bald Hill 2.3 km 60 min → | Shelley Bay 4.4 km 2 hr →”. I was on my way.
On the Great Ocean WalkStart to Elliot Ridge, 6.9 km, 2h21, 2.9 kph.
My first landmark was a signal beacon, 5:46, on a headland looking out over the sea. Although it was cold, I stopped here a while to enjoy the first sunrise of the walk.
From here I turned inland for a bit, climbing some steps. At a crest I got a look ahead, across Three Creeks Beach to some structure on a hillside, probably The Stone Cottage Guesthouse. Then more steps, to the top of the hill.
By 7:00 I was at some signposts telling me I was 750 m from Three Creeks and 100 m from “Shelley” Beach (both behind me). Fifteen minutes later another sign told me I was 900 m from “Shelly” beach and 750 m from Elliot River. Fifteen minutes after that, at the Elliot River Loop, Blanket Bay was 12.5 km ahead (but no beach access to Blanket Bay). I could see that the distance markers were going to be problematic.
I immediately passed by a narrow deep rocky beach, possibly Shelly/Shelley Beach, backed by a narrow winding stream valley with steep sides.
Half an hour later, at 8:00, I was looking at the Welcome sign for Elliot Ridge Walk-in Campsite (38°47'26.5"S 143°36'46.0"E). First checkpoint!
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Elliot Ridge to Blanket Bay, 11.6 km, 3h50, 3.2 kph.
However, I still had a long way to go, so after a brief rest I shouldered my pack and continued. Twenty minutes later, I passed the turnoff to the Elliot River Walk. If my day had been less ambitious, this would have been a nice excursion from Elliot Ridge.
The track widened and became a vehicle route.
Around 9:00 I noticed a black blob on the track ahead. I slowed down and softened my footsteps, but two minutes later the black wallaby jerked upright and stared at me in horror. I stopped, and stood absolutely still. We eyed each other for 15 minutes before the wallaby decided enough was enough, edged to the side of the track, then bounded off into the bushes.
At 9:40 I passed a vehicle barrier and turned onto Parker Road. This lasted till a sign pointed left towards “← Blanket Bay 5 km 1.5 hrs”. Unfortunately the initially promising path it pointed to quickly became a broad dirt road. I found a grader and a 4WD towing a concrete mixer parked by the roadside. Then I passed another barrier and found myself back on Parker Road. WTF?
On the other side of the barrier, about 11:25, a sign pointed down “Blanket Bay Trk →”. Just on the other side of the track another sign pointed down “← Blanket Bay Road”. Make up your minds! And yeah, it was a wide dirt road. I was making good time, but wide dirt roads designed for big vehicles wear on the eyes and soul.
Around 11:50, the road turned down toward Blanket Bay. I looked out through a break in the trees and saw a sizable rocky bay. Nearby, a sign pointed to “← Campers only | Fires in fireplaces only || Day Visitors → | One way →” (38°49'39.0"S 143°34'56.6"E). Close enough, I didn't need to find the the Welcome sign. Second checkpoint!
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Blanket Bay to Cape Otway, 10.5 km, 4h13 (1 hr lunch), 2.5 kph.
A minute later, in a flat area at the top of steps going down to Parker Estuary (3.5 km, 90 min) I heard a picnic table call my name. I had brought fixings for sandwiches and other bits and pieces from Melbourne and Apollo Bay for just this moment. I declared it to be lunch hour.
58 minutes later, I wedged the remains back in my pack, brushed crumbs off the table, and went down the steps.
At the bottom I finally struck a good trail, but didn’t get far before I heard snuffling and scratching sounds by the path. An echidna was busily digging into a hole in the base of a small tree. Time passed, and eventually I moved on. Half an hour later, I came across another echidna, this one excavating dirt from a hole in the ground.
I paused at the top of a hill to look down into Parker Inlet. Pretty. The grain of the rock ran along the shoreline here, undercutting the waves, protecting the little sandy sub-beaches. I soon came to a Phytophthora Hygiene Station, where I had to wash my boots and brush off my legs.
I tried to get a photo of the Lower Parker River Falls, but all I managed was a blurry brown image that looked like a muddy puddle.
At about 15:20 I came to a promising sign. “Cape Otway Lighthouse 4 km 90 min →”. However, I didn’t feel like paying for a lighthouse tour so I just walked around the area, which seemed to be mostly carparks and barriers, then walked on. I did see a fancy house over the trees — probably the “Italianate” Telegraph Station.
The only excitement after that was startling a wallaby at 16:30. At 17:02 a sign pointed to to the Cape Otway Hike-in Campsite, 50 m (38°50'59.0"S 143°30'52.4"E) and a minute later I was at the Welcome sign. Third checkpoint!
Amazingly, I had the campsite almost to myself. The other guys, just two if I recall correctly, mostly kept to themselves and I don’t remember any of what conversation we did have. Just track talk. I was utterly exhausted, and after dinner I just went to my assigned tent site (#2), zipped up the mosquito flap, and dropped off to sleep.
Inevitably, I woke in the night and, not having explored the site while the sun was up, had to find my way to the composting toilet by torchlight. My legs felt like rubber, and I almost fell asleep on the throne. An adventure!
Cape Otway to Aire River, 9.7 km, 3h51, 2.5 kph.
In the morning I felt like death warmed over, but I dragged myself into the kitchen shelter to boil water for instant coffee and make up milk to splash over my Weet-Bix. By the end of my meal I had warmed up, but I was seriously wishing I had booked Aire River for tonight’s camp.
Yesterday had been overcast all day except a couple of hours around lunchtime, and it looked like today was going to be the same. Could have been much worse; it didn’t look like rain!
I hit the trail at 6:13. Within a few minutes I saw a sign, “↑ Cape Otway Lighthouse Cemetery | ↑ Rainbow Falls | ↑ Aire River”. Hmm. The Cemetery was only a couple of minutes on, basically half a dozen graves. Alfred Hampshire, 1893, aged 48. Cornelius Evans, son of Will’m and Kathrine, 1867, aged 1 yr 3 mths. Kathrine Elizabeth Evans, daughter of the above, 1868, 11 mths. Albert Griffiths, 33, Thomas Monk, 34, Alex Mathieson, 23, Blanket Bay Disaster, 1896.
A moment later I emerged from the trees and saw a pair of radio masts (38°51'08.4"S 143°30'43.9"E) below me, towards the Lighthouse. I later figured out they were part of the WW II-vintage “No. 13 Radar Station”.
About 7:10 I came to a small pile of rocks beside the track. It looked like either something was buried there, or more likely, somebody’s non-official cairn had been toppled.
Twenty minutes later, I reached a personal decision point. “← Rainbow Falls 1.5 km 40 min ← Aire River via Station Beach 6 km 3 hr | Aire River via cliff top 5.5 km 2.5 hr → | ← Cape Otway Lighthouse 5 km 2 hr | Bimbi Park →”. Rainbow Falls was tempting, but (a) required descending then re-ascending the cliffs, and (b) was 500 m longer than along the cliff top. The Falls were a cliff with a stream at the top and vibrant colours from algae on the face. I assessed the state of my legs and sadly decided to take the boring but probably easier cliff top route.
I saw movement by the side of the path. A massive bull ant was running there, carrying a fat green grasshopper of some sort. I let it be. I wouldn’t want to fall foul of those jaws.
At about 8:51 I came out on the brow of a hill overlooking a magnificent beach. A river flowed down to it, but vanished in the sand just short of the surf. That had to be Aire River Beach, which meant I was closing in on my first checkpoint of the day (the fourth overall).
I continued around the hill. At 9:20 I was looking down on the Sand Rd Bridge across the Aire River. Somewhere left of the bridge on the far bank was my checkpoint.
The track descended fairly rapidly, and at 9:30 I was walking up to the bridge. On the other side I found more signs: “Castle Cove 5.5 km 2.5 hrs → | Johanna Beach 12.5 km 4 hrs → | Hike-in Campsite 100 m →”. Just after 10:00 I was looking at the Welcome sign for Aire River Hike-in Campsite (38°48'09.5"S 143°28'36.4"E). Fourth checkpoint!
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Aire River to Johanna Beach, 13.6 km, 6h06 (1 hr lunch), 2.2 kph.
I took a 30-minute breather in the kitchen shelter at Aire River. The sun had broken through the overcast. Once I had cooled off from the walk, it was lovely to relax and rest my legs in the sunshine for a bit. I now really wished I had made this may target for day 2! An afternoon of sunny indolence in this pleasant camp would be just the trick.
Coming into Aire River Camp had actually lengthened my walk. You’ll recall the sign I saw earlier that claimed it was 12.5 km to Johanna from there — but the Welcome sign said it was 13.6 km from here. Never mind, the earned rest and the boost from making my checkpoint were ample compensation for a possibly mythical extra kilometre.
Climbing the hill behind the camp, I had a good view back to Aire River Beach, although the beach itself was invisible behind a spur. The escarpment I had stood on was easy to make out.
The next section of track was rough, up and down. Sometime between 12:10 and 12:30 (I was buzzed out by exertion I didn't note it) I descended onto a splendid section of beach and instantly knew that I had reached my lunch stop. I walked south a minute and found a sunny little niche (38°47'00.9"S 143°25'45.3"E) where I would know if anyone came down the beach track before they saw me. Within minutes I was naked and carefree and splashing in the surf, washing off the grime.
After my swim, I came back to my gear and lay down in the sun to make myself a somewhat sandy lunch.
I pulled myself together around 13:30 and walked up the hill to rejoin the track. I clambered over a stile and found myself standing on an asphalt road.
Ten minutes on, a sign: “← Aire River 5.5 km 2.5 hr | Johanna Beach 7 km 3 hr →”. It was a distressing distance, but in fact I was feeling better than I had this morning at Cape Otway. More distressing were the two loud smelly monsters that roared up and vomited up their stomachs just then. Seems that this was the Castle Cove Lookout stop. So now I knew where I was. I went out and had a gawk, if only to reassure myself that my bathing spot was hidden from the Lookout by the cliffs. It was.
On the way back from the lookout I came across another burrowing, snuffling echidna. Did these guys ever do anything else? On a branch nearby, a magnificent green scarab beetle gleamed in the sun.
I came to a sign announcing “Rotten Point”, which was a rotten name to give to a very pretty part of the track.
At 15:50 I was looking down on a gorgeous beach. Below me I could see where the track reached the beach, from which point several tracks of footprints diverged northwards towards the surf. Johanna Beach! Five minutes later I was adding my footprints to those left by previous walkers.
I came across an information panel for the 1843 wreck of the schooner Johanna.
By 16:44 I had climbed off the north end of the beach near a point and could look back on it with real affection. If I'd wanted to, I could have continued around the point and along the beach all the way to a spot below the eponymous GOW campsite, but how would I then get up the cliff?
Roads! Damn! I was skirting the Johanna Beach Campground. “Melanesia Beach 10 km 4 hr → | ← Castle Cove 6.6 km 3.5 hr”. Melanesia or Milanesia? As with Shelley and Shelly, both spelling were being used.
200 m from my checkpoint, I came across brightly coloured pieces of fabric scattered across the clifftop near a 4WD. Para-sailers and para-gliders. Well hey, para-sailing would get me down to the beach, but my problem had been to find a way up!
At 17:10 I was at the Welcome sign for the Johanna Beach Hike-in Campsite (38°45'28.6"S 143°22'09.7"E). Fifth checkpoint!
The views at this camp were to die for. It was perched on the edge of a precipitous cliff, where you could see the weather sweeping in on you. It had a lovely view south down Johanna Beach in the sunset, and the setting was exquisite.
Most of the the tent sites were protected from the wind. Except mine, #8, of course. Oh, well, the blast didn’t quite sweep me over the edge. Since I had the site to myself, I was tempted to move to one of the other, more sheltered tent sites, but what if I chose one that had been assigned to a late arrival?
Johanna Beach to Ryans Den, 12.4 km, 6h40, 1.9 kph.
In the morning, I was up just before 06:00. My neighbours, two late arrivals, were still asleep in their bulbous, sturdy dome tents. I stood on the cliff edge to watch the sunrise but got only a reddish gleam beneath the clouds on the horizon. By 6:30 I was on the track, just as the sun rose above the cloudy murk and showered the landscape with glorious amber hues, a golden morning for this Christmas Eve.
I was walking a grassy stretch of the brow of the cliffs. I almost immediately found myself surrounded by cows on and around the track. I was cursing my luck, when I realised that one of the cows was standing on its hind legs. The kangaroo, for it had a white chest and horse face and seemed too tall and light-coloured to be a wallaby, gazed at me nervously before bounding off down the hill. A couple of minutes later, I saw two more, mother and joey, in the lee of a bush, then five bounding away on a hillside, and one cheeky one peering at me over a crest, showing off its mighty ripped shoulders.
I got lost. The terrain turned rough, and the track was terrible. I am missing two photos between 6:52 (a kangaroo) and 8:14 (corner of Melanesia Track and Old Coach Rd, 38°43'54.1"S 143°20'30.4"E0), so I can't tell where I went wrong, but it was obvious I had wandered off the GOW. It's hard to be sure now because Google Maps thinks Old Coach Rd here is Hiders Access. At any rate, the intersection was only about 1.5 km from Johanna and should only have taken me about 30 minutes to reach.
Looking at Google Maps, I think that where Old Coach Road (the GOW) met Hiders Access, I turned left onto the latter instead of following the former to the right. When that path petered out on a bluff, I saw a rough track on the other side of a creek below me (Knowledge Creek, 38°45'15.9"S 143°20'49.7"E), went down, crossed, climbed up to that track (more a break in the treeline), went along it to Knowledge Track, along Knowledge Track till it met Melanesia Track, and thence to the intersection where I found myself back on the GOW. It fits my rather confused memories that I had to turn onto Old Coach Road here but also had to turn off Old Coach Road here, reflecting my changing comprehension of the situation. A wasted hour, or an adventure? If I had turned left where Knowledge met Melanesia, all would have been fine. But it was fine anyway, just with extra legwork. Definitely an adventure.
A few minutes later, a wallaby peered at me over some bushes. “You again?”
At about 8:50 I came across the scarecrow holding a cup and sitting with a cask of water in its lap that I have used as the cover image for this report. I don’t recall seeing it on the way up, so it must be on the other side of the Knowledge Track intersection, probably about 215 Melanesia Track.
Fifteen minutes later the vehicle section of Melanesia Track terminated at a barrier; the foot track continued, giving me glimpses of some beautiful coastline before bringing me down onto Milanesia Beach about 9:45.
A sign! “Ryans Den 3.4 km 1.25 hrs → | Moonlight Head 9.5 km 4 hrs →”. Now I knew where I stood, so to speak. Someone had dumped a pile of plastic rubbish by the sign. Given the way microplastics get around, I may be carrying tiny souvenirs of that spot today.
I rested, then walked along the beach until the trail markers pointed me up a hill around 10:20. And I climbed. And I climbed. The views were good and kept getting better, but all I really noticed was that I was climbing. At 12:20 I found steps up, and lost the views! Up, down. Up, down. Oh, and it rained on me.
At 12:56 the sun came out and I came out on a viewpoint and noticed a composting toilet on the hill across the valley. By 13:10 I was looking at the Welcome sign for Ryans Den Hike-in Campsite (38°45'34.4"S 143°16'39.9"E). Sixth Checkpoint!
The rain came back. I was in tent site #8 again, but this #8 was nestled in a sheltered spot. I set up my tent, climbed into it, closed the flaps against the rain, stretched out on my open sleeping bag, broke out some cold lunch makings, and collapsed. That was it for four hours; I woke just after 17:00 with the last mouthful of my lunch dry in my mouth.
The rain had drawn out to sea, where the showers were making patterns against the sky, so I was able to make my Christmas Eve dinner without that misery. I seemed to be the only hiker here. Whatever happened to those guys in the dome tents at Johanna?
Ryans Den to Devils Kitchen, 15.3 km, 5h16, 2.9 kph.
Christmas Day! Despite my body’s complaints and a series of rain showers, I hauled myself out and enjoyed a solid breakfast, using up the last of some tasty things that might not last another day. By 6:52 I was ready to go. I took a photo of tent site 4, showing the dry outline where a tent had kept off the rain, versus the sogginess evident elsewhere. At 6:57 I was on the track.
I have no memories from this stage. None. I only took a few photos on the track, and since every one of them showed the rain that was dogging me, there’s no reason to ask why. I kept my raincoat on and my hood up and focused on simply getting through the quagmires without toppling over.
At 7:40 I was standing by the soggy remains of someone’s campfire at Cape Volney. At 9:29 I clambered over a stile at moonlight Head. I found a not very helpful sign that said, “The Gable 6.3 km 3 hr →”. Useless to me. I didn’t want to go there!
At 11:00 I was staggering down a soggy red road marked by two sets of mountain bike tire tracks. Two cyclists, or one coming and going? Just before noon, at an intersection, a sign with a tent icon pointed me left off a puddle-strewn road onto an even puddlier side road. At 12:06 I found two useful signs. “← Princetown Beach 8.5 km 4 hrs” and “Campsite 450 m 10 min →”.
By 12:13 I was at the Welcome sign for Devils Kitchen (38°44'39.3"S 143°12'15.7"E). Alone in the silence, save for the sound of dripping leaves. But, Seventh checkpoint! Or had I perhaps punctured the 7th Seal?
Devils Kitchen was on the edge of a great semicircular depression where a giant cave had collapsed at some point in the past. The camp and cliffsides were embedded in trees that contorted the wind into strange currents. The edge of the cliff was not jagged, but rolled downward smoothly like the flaring edge of a deep bowl. There was a beach down there somewhere, and paths down to it, but although the clouds had thinned since Moonlight Head and were even showing patches of blue, this was not beach weather.
I went up the steep steps to the toilets and made use of one, watching through the window a huge black wad of weather coming at me from out at sea.
I rested in my tent (site 8 AGAIN) until the rain-blow passed, then made lunch during a break in the weather. Vegemite from a tube, squeezed out on flat bread, which I rolled around the last of my cheese slices, with a side of peanuts. And coffee. Exhausted by this culinary effort, I went and lay down again to digest it.
The trees watched me, skinny old men in ragged clothes. Like Old Man Willow, they rubbed their bare branches together, and whispered to me about what I could expect from them come nightfall. “Yoo’rrre aaall alooone,” they squeaked and groaned and rustled, “Nooobohdy’s coooomeeng, therere waaiill bee no-ooh helllp fffooorrr yooo. Noww resssst, ressst, sssleeeep.”
And I did.
I woke to sunshine across the roof of my tent. The rain had gone, the clouds had broken, and the campsite smiled in the sunshine. I began to wonder at my earlier mood.
About 16:30 I started making my Christmas Dinner. Freeze-dried beef with added mixed veg. Instant noodles. Coffee. For dessert, more coffee, a Mars Bar, peanuts, and all the filtered and treated water I could stomach! For music, I had my MP3 player and headphones.
But no company. The trees chortled and squeaked all around me, gloating in their old mens’ voices. “Whiiiy ees eet feeeling loooonehleee, prehhciousss? Weee’re hererere tooo keeeppp yooo cooompahhnee!”
Why indeed? I had chosen to be here, alone, today. It was no accident. There was nothing for me back in Melbourne. That’s why I had already submitted my application to take a 10-month career break in 2007. Maybe I could fix my life. Depression clamped back down on me.
The trees laughed and chuckled at me all through the night, but did me no harm otherwise.
Devils Kitchen to Princetown, 7.5 km, 2h18, 3.3 kph.
6:57 After a long night of listening to creaky tree voices, I'm ready to get the hell out of Devils Kitchen.
Now here’s a fine memory lacuna to explore. In my memory, I walked the stretch from Devils Kitchen to the end of the GOW on the 26th, walked on to Princetown, camped overnight, then the next day (the 27th) walked back to Gibsons Steps and on to the Apostles and Port Campbell. The dates are sorta right, but my photos fill in important details and event orders I elided from my memories.
I was depressed after the night at Devil’s Kitchen, and the day’s walk was a non-event. I was coming down from a height, with wide views over the landscapes inland, but there no stand-out features there. By 9:00 I was in sandhills, following a sandy track with deep wheel ruts.
At 9:02 I was at a barrier, with a sign: “Princetown Beach”. Beyond the barrier was a sign for the Gellibrand River. At 9:04 I was at another Gellibrand River sign (with the river visible beyond it) and another sign: “Gellibrand River Mouth 650 m 20 min ↑ | Glenample Homestead 6.8 km 2.5 hr →”. I followed the river. At 9:15 I was approaching some buildings on an eminence.
And that's it for the day. Cut to pre-dawn gloom and a howling gale, grass and an obvious caravan ground. No end of the track, no big moment on the 26th.
I didn’t spend four nights on the Great Ocean Road, I effectively spent five! I knew it all this time but ignored it and somehow in eighteen years I never put the pieces back together properly (not even in the planning section at the top of this report) until now, when I couldn’t make it all fit together because the fifth night was not at a GOW Walk-in camp and my photos did not support my memory. The fifth night was, as I well remembered, at the Apostles Camping Park (38°41'38.6"S 143°09'20.2"E), which is in Princetown and not on the GOW, but it was technically still part of my walk as I had not yet completed the GOW. Most of my Princetown memories do date to the 26th, but they were from when I was already camped, and I was scampering around town buying food and batteries and recharging my camera, whose last battery ran out of juice just as I approached the boardwalk. Which is why there are no photos for the rest of that day, such as crossing the wetland boardwalk to get to the Apostles Camping Park. By the next morning I had a usable camera again, but the damage had been done. I hadn’t even considered the Camping Park as a checkpoint.
I left the Walk via the boardwalk one day and returned to it the same way the next morning, picking up my walk from the same spot I’d stopped the day before. My mixed-in memories of walking to and from Princetown by the road actually dated from 2003, when I walked the GOR for Christmas.
Princetown to Walk End, 5.7 km, 1h43, 3.3 kph.
I packed up my gear in the blowy, dark pre-dawn. By 5:29 I was on my way. I walked across the wetlands boardwalk to rejoin the GOW and by 5:44 I was at the spot where the GOR kissed the Old Coach Road (38°41'36.6"S 143°09'02.2"E) and Old Coach Road became Old Coach Road West.
I walked up Old Coach Road West (the GOW) to the turnoff to Clifton Beach (38°41'18.8"S 143°08'33.5"E). Sign: “← Clifton Beach 1.7 km 40 min”.
I followed the Beach path along the tops of the cliffs but did not go down to the beach. I don’t even recall seeing the turnoff; when the track improved by two boards laid on the ground ended, I just continued along the cliffs. Every so often I reached a point where I could see the 12 Apostles in the distance. After a grey blowy start to the day, the weather cleared and even became sunny at times, though the clouds always blew back in afterwards.
At 7:07 I found a large black ground-beetle by the side of the track, apparently a Scaraphites rotundipennis
After a last glimpse of the Apostles, the path turned right and descended toward the road. That turn (38°40'17.5"S 143°06'60.0"E) is the point where the extension to the Apostles strikes off today. It didn’t exist then except as a rugged desire path; today you can take a Street View along it. At 7:12, I snapped the moment my right foot stepped off the GOW (38°40'16.2"S 143°07'01.1"E). Checkpoint eight! I had Done the GOW!
Along the Great Ocean RoadWalk End to Port Campbell, 12.8 km (min), 5h, 2.6 kph.
The GOW tried hard to pretend that it continued to Glenample Homestead, but since I was not going there, it tried in vain. When walking toward the Apostles I passed by the Homestead’s gate on the inland side of the GOR at 7:18. Yeah nah, guys. that’s a hard pass from me.
At 7:24 I passed the Gibson Steps turnoff, but I didn’t descend; I had done that three years ago, on Boxing Day in 2003. Then I was fresh; this year I was still tired from my GOW ordeal. I looked back from the bluff and ticked off my first pair of Apostles, the two that sit in the surf off Gibson Beach.
In the cove ahead, I could see the six others, one fewer than in 2003. In the two photos at right, the sunny one was taken at 7:54 on 27th december 2003, the other at 7:48 on 27th December 2006, from almost exactly the same spot, three years later almost to the minute. The missing one is that pile of rubble by the right shoulder of the nearest. 3-minute Youtube on this and two other collapses.
3 July 2005, 9:18: “It sort of shimmered and shuddered, then imploded in on itself and collapsed into the water with very little splash … Almost immediately they got hit with a sound wave that was a deep boom.” (Park ranger Alex Green in The Age, 4 July.)
At 8:54 I was approaching the Loch Ard Gorge and Blow Hole Thunder Cave. I looked over to the Loch Ard Island Arch, not knowing it was going to collapse in 2009. I went on to peer at Muttonbird Island, the Blowhole and Thunder Cave.
By 10:20 I had seen enough of the area and took a last look back from the Sherbrooke River Watch Point. Then I turned and walked towards Port Campbell, now only about 6 km away.
I was there by noon, and checked into Port Campbell Caravan Park, Site G21, for $16.
I had lunch and rested up, then went for a pre-dinner walk by Port Campbell Bay. I looked at the Rocket Shed, where the rescue crews used to store the gear to fire rope-carrying rockets into wrecked ships.
Fish and chips for dinner, scoffed down while walking back to the van park.
Port Campbell to Peterborough, 12.6 km (min), 3h10, 4 kph.
I was on my way at 7:31 in the morning. I followed the main road out of town: north, then around in a great curve, finally getting onto the B100 to Peterborough (38°36'45.2"S 142°59'50.6"E). As I passed a scenic lookout at the top at 7:58, I could look down on the van park below me.
By 9:07 I was at my first sight for the day, The Arch, a precarious curve of rock above pounding waves.
Half an hour later, I was at fallen-down London Bridge. It was no longer the marvellous double-arch it had been back in 1990. Like everyone else in Melbourne back in 1990, I had wondered what the people trapped on the remaining arch when their connection to the shore collapsed had been up to. Nothing too nefarious, it seems: it fell at 19:45 in January, so at least the sun was still up. They had apparently been waiting for a couple of elderly visitors to get off so they could take their own photos.
I walked on, passing a well-rotted road-kill kangaroo.
Just after 10:00 I was at The Grotto, a combination blowhole-arch. It was well equipped with wooden steps and was probably a hit with the tour bus crowd, but I looked down, took a couple of photos, and moved on.
By 11:40 I was setting up my tent at GOR Tourist Park, Site C18. $54 for an unpowered site? Highway robbery! When I wrote that last night, I couldn’t remember why I didn’t just take my tent and walk. Then I looked at the receipt this morning, and realised that it covered two nights paid in advance. $27 per night is less outrageous. It was the last stop on my trek, and I was very tired. If I’d had the energy I could have had a leisurely lunch in town then just walked out to the the Bay of Islands that afternoon and caught the V/Line coach to Warrnambool from there. But I didn’t have that energy, as my past self knew very well.
Peterborough Bay of Islands and back, 12 km (min), 2h40 (est), 4.4 kph.
I was out of puff and out of food, so I stopped in town for breakfast, only walking out to the west about 7:40.
Wild Dog Bay, The Well, the Falls of Halladale, Worm bay, Massacre Bay, Bay of Martyrs, Bay of Islands, spectacular scenery!
And then about 10:30 the GOR turned inland and it was all over. I gazed longingly past the turnoff to the Boat Bay Carpark, but there was nothing I particularly wanted out there short of Warrnambool, 46 km away. I could get there on foot in 10 or 11 hours, if my legs and feet held out, but why?
I walked the 6 km back into town and found an eatery that was to my liking. The V/Line coach was due through at 16:10. Until then, I could put my feet up in my tent and let the aches drain away.
The bus was on time. I snapped my last shot of the trip at 16:16 at the Bay of Islands, when the bus stopped there briefly.
The bus arrived at Warrnambool station about 17:00. A train to Southern Cross was scheduled 17:12, so I just walked off the bus, onto the platform, and onto the train.
We were at Southern Cross by 20:30. I hopped a train to Flinders Station, then flagged down a Bridge Road tram in Flinders St. I have no memories after that: I was utterly exhausted by my week on my feet, and I spent my long weekend off them — although I did venture out for the New Year’s Eve fireworks.
