Great Ocean Walk, Day 6 – Devils Kitchen to The Twelve Apostles, 16km

“For the night is dark and full of terrors”

GOT

Well, I spoke waaaaayyyy too soon.  Another night of cyclonic winds belting their way like malevolent sprites through the Devil’s Kitchen.  It is very hard to describe what it is like being in the forest when 80km hour winds are howling through.  My tent, through luck rather than design, was being protected by a stout, dense tea tree shrub.  The trees creak and groan though.  Debris hits the tent with a flying thud.  The rain is not a gentle pitter patter that will lull you right to sleep.  It’s more lull, LULL, LULL, lull, LUll, luLL, LULL, LULL, LULL, LULL, LULL!!, LULL!!, LULL!!!.  You get the picture.

With little sleep, I did not need the alarm to wake me at 6am.  By torchlight I packed my things and thanked my lucky stars for my protected site.  James and Raye were already up when I left, forced back into the one-man tent again.  Augustin had left some time during the night.  Marg had not yet emerged, which was a good sign.

The trail was complete havoc.  With trees down everywhere it was difficult to get into any sort of rhythm.  Each downed tree was a problem to be solved.  Under, over, around, push through, balance precariously, try and jump, get down off the bridge and into the creek, fight and move and bush bash.

I arrived at the Gellibrand River in good time.  Very good time.  I would have to wait hours for the bus at this pace.  No sooner had I had thoughts to slow down and dawdle, then the first splats of rain began to fall.  I hustled, hoping to make shelter, but I was in a no-mans zone of roadway and bridge construction.  The rain became fierce, bitter and freezing, soaking my shoes instantly. 

With the rain, there went any thoughts of dawdling.  My mission now, reach the end, change into warm gear and put on my new waterproof socks.

The final five kilometers of walking was epic.  The track, easy trail through beautiful cliff top scrub.  The weather, madness, with cyclonic rain one minute and clear blue skies the next.  The scenery, although shrouded in mist, amazing, as I spied the Twelve Apostles for the first time.

I reached the semi-end of the walk. In a gesture I love, instead of at the end of the trail at the information centre, the marker for the trail end is located a little further away on a private cliff top viewing spot.  Here, completers of the trail can hoot and holler, take as many photos as they like, and soak up the feeling of achievement away from the public eye.  Whilst I did do all of those things, it was near impossible, with wind pushing so hard it was difficult to stay on your feet, let alone hold the camera steady.  I laughed and shouted at the absurdness of it all.  Wow oh wow, did I feel alive!

And just like that it was over.  Deposited brusquely into the highly touristed area of Gibson’s Steps, before the final, short push to the Apostles.

Here, the hikers gathered one by one.  Congratulations were made and hot coffees were drunk.  Marg made sure to thank me profusely for the help with the tent pole.  I recognised the look in her eyes….someone who doesn’t like to ask for help.  Like me.  Someone who has had to accept help, surrendered to that, and found it in abundance on the trail.  Like me.  It was a really nice feeling to have been able to pay all the kindnesses I’ve received over the years, forward. 

We all said our final goodbyes and I headed to the bus stop, feeling completely content and happy.  The Great Ocean Walk definitely rates up there as one of the best walks I’ve done.  The scenery, the tracks, the camp sites, the crazy weather, the camaraderie. As I said to the others, “This is one we’ll all be talking about for a long time!” 

PS.  My feet were dry, warm and toasty for the whole bus ride thanks to my new waterproof socks!