Great Ocean Walk, Day 4 – Johanna Beach to Ryans Den, 14km

The big news of the day, is the night.  And quite possibly the worst storm I have ever encountered whilst huddling in a tent.

First things first, and it was a pleasant surprise when James and Raye trundled into the camp site with a booming “Hey Mel!”.  I’m very pleased at the addition of a couple of people who don’t mind conversing a bit.

We briefly catch up on proceedings before I head to the table near my tent to cook up dinner.  It’s absolutely beautiful.  Calm, out of the wind.  The ocean seething down below, the sound of the waves rolling a metronome that has me in a trance. Honestly, you couldn’t ask for a better camp site experience. I even saw a couple of koalas in a tree, red eyes gleaming in my torchlight as I cleaned my teeth. Even at that point in the night it looked like a bit of a rollercoaster for them, their tree bending back and forth dangerously in the wind.

I had known, as I made my way into bed for the night, that I should be expecting a bit of rain to hit, possibly from 9pm onwards.  The wait was like an anxious boil.  The night getting hotter and hotter, the air sucked out like a vacuum.  I look at my clock…11.15pm.  Just waiting.

It starts with a patter, that turns into a pour.  The rain is fine, but then the wind. Monstrous gusts that make the tent shudder.  The rain slams into the tent  with alarming force at every push of the wind. It was both chaotic and electrifying.  I seriously wondered whether the wind was strong enough to lift the tent, me and all, and deposit it over the clifftop  and into the sea below. My poles and tent, bending at seemingly impossible angles under the force.

I noticed lights starting to flash around camp, but there was nothing to do except close my eyes, hang on tight, and hope.  It’s one of the few times I wished I had noise cancelling headphones, so I could block out the noise of the wind and the fear.

Morning arrived.  The rain stopped. I opened my tent fly and stared down at the raging white capped sea, thankful that my possessions had survived the night. A quick look around camp told me that others were not so lucky.  A broken tent pole for the quiet woman.  James and Raye had been forced to move into a one-man tent.  Everyone was a bit shell shocked.  I asked the quiet lady what she planned on doing.  She wasn’t sure.  I offered my pole repair equipment if I saw her at the next camp, and that was that.  One last look at the view and I left camp whilst the rain held off.

The morning walk consisted of roadwalking through lush green farmland and forests.  The weather varied from brilliant sunshine to spitting squall, though the wind was a constant companion.

I caught up with James, who had headed off early.  James had only recently been told that he was going to be a father, and was understandably nervous.  It’s very rare for me to tell my story.  That I was once married.  That we had tried to have children.  That we were one of those unlucky couples for whom that just wasn’t on the cards.  But, because it’s the trail, and people bond quickly, I told him.  And advised him, that from my perspective, he should try to enjoy every moment of this precious journey.

I left James having a rest break and made my way down to the beach.  The ocean was fierce.  Dark, muddy blue waves.  Foam whistling into the air.  It did it’s very best to try and claim me for its own!

From the beach, the last 5km consisted of a pleasant track winding in and out of forest and rainforest gullies.  Although it was mostly an uphill walk, with quite a few steps, it didn’t feel taxing and I made camp by around 1.15pm.

Problematically, the wind was still raging, and the the campsite offered very little in the way of sheltered sites.  I felt quite lucky as the first to reach camp that I could try and choose the best fit for me.

One by one everybody staggered in, and places were found for all.  The quiet lady, Marg’s, tent pole was fixed as best we could.  With one-man tents she will be sharing a tentsite which was reasonably out of the wind, with Raye.  James, in his tarpaulin, will set up in the shelter and the Mexican fellow, Augustin, will more or less set up on the track. 

My site is muddy, and pretty gross.  But I’m sitting inside dry, and because of the buffeting shelter, very safe. My tent is barely moving in the raging gale around me.

Things are supposed to quieten down around midnight.  Fingers and toes crossed that they do.