16 Kilometre Coast Trek on Kangaroo Island

On 2005 May 19, my amazing wife and her parents, an older couple (the pack leaders), and a family fiend, embarked on what was initially assumed to be a four-hour coastal trek from my wife’s childhood family home to the southernmost tip of the island.

Below is my transcription from that fateful day:

After a few group photos at Remarkable Rocks, we started our journey westward. The final destination to be the ‘Hanson Bay Cabins’ It was estimated to tack about four hours, six at most.

The initial trek took as around rocky-outcrops that shot out into the water. A hundred metres on, an area of coast-land was spotted down the cliff to be incredibly large granite boulders. I was dared to follow one of our leaders down to test if they could carry our weight. It was proven that the soil could not: I fell down someway after what I thought was a great place to place my foot was not. I was not meant to be the highlight of this trek, but this accident quickly made my health the primary interest of concern. Sigh. When you don’t want attention, you get too much, yet other times there just ain’t any at all!

At the third peninsula, the beach for lunch was spotted. Tripping over my own feet flattened many small bushes with my bum. I sat down repeatedly on the job, but only because gravity failed to hold my swollen knee above my ankles. But this trick was to be repeated by many of the weary travelers. It was then decided that the two older husbands would take off alone, get to the cars, drive back to the first car (as this was our trick to ensure transport was available), then return to the ending to pick us up as we arrived…

At the fourth peninsula we realised how far it was. Our assumed leader prevailed by traveling back and forth between headlands trying to find a better way to get around this coastal trek. I suspect we were the first to see this in over a hundred years. Where tracks were supposedly mean to be, there was none. We followed wombat and goat tracks, deluding ourselves they were human-made.

But our leader found tracks that we carefully walked our feeble bodies across bush-filled bush-land. My knees ached, my hands sore, and my camera took photos itself when wedged up against branches.

After being told the final beach was just over the next headland, we all semi-sprinted up the hill, through the bushes, over Gallipoli dunes, across rocky terrain – to find ourselves inches away from a vertical cliff face. Across the way was yet another, on the side of a peninsula, beyond which we could see the beach where we supposedly to end this trek of treks. The time was getting late, the sun was hidden by clouds, hills, and expected to disappear completely very soon!

The group split yet again. Only because we each saw a different way to cut a track through the eucalypti everglades. My wife and I went left, and hacked with arms and legs through the trees, whilst the older ladies stuck to the coastal goat-track. Trusting my amazing wife’s bush-skills, she led the attack, pushing the trees apart. It was only when the sounds of the surf pounding on the cliffs got quieter that I asked if we were heading in the right direction. Sighing, she turned back toward the cliff-face, not knowing if she was metres or millimeters from falling over. Once we managed to bypass the trees, the answer changed. White sanded dunes filled with smaller bushes were found, a valley load had to be stomped over. We reached the next hilltop, then looked back to see where the older ladies were. I quickly grabbed the metallic space-blanket and waved it furiously hoping they would hear or see it. They did.

After all the tree-bashing we had done, the women were only thirty metres to our right on a goat-track. And only a few minutes behind us. It was decided instantly that the troops would not split up again. Across the terrain we all traveled, now sore everywhere.

The sun had gone completely, and clouds covered the few stars appearing. Like a band of school-kids, we linked hands and carefully wove our way around the rocks, zigzagging, increasing the total distance. Averaging forty metres every four minutes, my awesome wife became the caring troop leaders. My ever-so-brave wife and her 60yo aunt did the most work. Seriously, this 60yo woman deserves an award or two for her amazing work to ensure we safely escaped!

Again and again, this lovely old lady would leave the remainder of us in one spot, then nick off to find a way around or through. And back she would return, speaking softly that she had found away. And like a caring grandmother, she would help each of us to navigate the cliff-face, branches, rocks, and terrifying winds screaming up the cliff from the beach.

Finally the beach was found. Amusingly, I was told to watch my step. But even with my aging eyes, pixelated vision from too much computer time, I knew I was on the beach. The horizon was no longer split by different shades of gray, it was one long dessert of sand – only interrupted by the surf pounding on the shallow reef, and traveling up the sand. Thankfully not so high we got our feet wet.

We whooped and yelled that we had made the beach – but soon realised there was still some more headland to prevail, more rocks and water to avoid, and darkness was now at its blackest. The sky was covered in cloud, and a light mist was forever soaking us.

On the beach, someone asked the time. My clever wife flicked on her phone to discover it had an ambient light that lit up in front of her for about four metres. Eyes lit up as they realised what this meant. For about a kilometre down the beach, two light blue lights sporadically lit our footsteps. We managed to find the footsteps of the two men who had split from the main group many hours earlier.

Finally to the next headland, the last of far too many, we found our biggest hurdle. A wall of rock with no apparent exit, nor place to clamber over. My PlayStation skills went into overdrive as I tried to imagine all the options. Yet again, my awesome wife figured it out before me.

Traveling back the way we came, we found the lowest point of the rock, climbed up on top, then walked the parapet. The edge was walked, carefully, foot over foot, watching for water-filled pot-holes. Hands were linked again, mobile phones lighting our way.

It was at this point that I realised my camera had a built-in flash. Being dark, it put forward a pre-flash before taking a photo. Being so dark, and not set up for it, it didn’t take any photos, therefore nothing more than battery power for the flash was wasted. Amusingly, as my wife explained to the friends, we had fortunately purchased fresh new batteries when we arrived at the KI visitors centre the previous day.

Finally a bright light appeared over the headland. A huge orange glow was bobbing above the ground, heading toward us. I thought it was the headlight of a 4WD vehicle, bouncing over the rocks. Amusingly, I tried to suggest it was a UFO, but these women were far too smart for that. Then an arm was swinging alongside, and the legs were seen and the feet were heard stomping across the hill to us. Our leader’s son had found us!

The two men we’d sent ahead for torches and help had first contacted this tall gentleman, disturbing his evening. They then drove off to get the second car, leaving him to grab a huge orange lantern and trek out to find us. Thankfully, he had only five minutes of walking before locating us. It then took twenty minutes to walk back – as our group had injuries to care for.

At this point, all bruises were noticed tenfold. My knees began to ache after I finally got to rest them.

We drove to the evening dinner in quietness. Dinner included merriment at our predicament for the day, and laughing through our moments of pain and stupidity.

I hobbled to and from the dinner table with chocolate delights made for lunch which weren’t eaten in order that we make camp earlier.

And there ends the story.

And now it is 10.10pm the following night. My left arm aches when I move it left too far, my right knee is strapped to prevent further injury, my eyes hurt from wind blown up the beach, and we are all still very tired.

All the attached photographs were taken by my wife and myself, capturing the entire journey. These photos are now on display on Flickr, serve as a lasting reminder of that unforgettable day, allowing everyone to vividly recall this extraordinary adventure!