Stretching 135 kilometres from Cape Naturaliste to Cape Leeuwin, the
Cape to Cape Track follows the coast between the two lighthouses that mark the start and finishing posts. Wild isolated surf beaches, limestone cliffs and karri forest, all contained within the Leeuwin-Naturaliste National Park.
The Cape to Cape Track, Leeuwin-Naturliste National Park: 150km over 6 days
Leaving my car in Augusta, the closest town to Cape Leeuwin in the south, I caught a bus north to Dunsborough, near Cape Naturaliste. From here I could have hired a taxi for the 13 kilometre ride out to the lighthouse, but instead opted to walk the distance, in part because of a trail that went most of the distance, the Meelup Trail, and also because I saw a few stunning photos taken along this stretch. Setting out from Dunsborough early Tuesday morning, I walked along the coastal pathway through the lush green lawns, past the nice beachfront homes and people walking their dogs and those doing their early morning run.
Upon entering the Meelup Reserve, the trail commenced and the people all dissappeared, from here on it was only the occasional person fishing. The 13 kilometres turned out to be 16.5, but I was at the lighthouse for an icecream and an early lunch by 12.
At the Three Bears beach I sat at the lookout by the carpark, overlooking the surf and the many surfers. Clearly to be a surfer here, one needed a 4WD ute, and preferably a dog to keep you company, to access the sandy tracks to the remote beaches. The waves were huge, so it was with some awe that I watched the guys riding them in. Chatting with a local surfie, he didn't seem to think the waves were that special today and he probably wouldn't bother going out there.
My six day walk could easily be mistaken for a tour of the best surf beaches, so abundant were the beaches with enormous waves. It wasn't at all uncommon for me to be walking along an isolated beach and to see a car approach, the driver carefully selecting an area with good waves and heading out into the surf with his board.
Many beaches had names obviously influenced by the surfing conditions: Guillotine, Gallows, Left Handers, Suicides, and of course the Three Bears - Papa Bear, Momma Bear and Baby Bear.
At one beach I was gobsmacked to see the size of the waves. It was difficult to see if the surfers were out there for recreational surfing or were being pumpelled to death. Someone had scratced into the handrail on the beach staircase the words "This is Heaven." I think for a surfer without a high skillset though, it would probably be hell.
The limestone and granite rocks along the Cape to Cape Track made for some stunning scenery, from the potholes of Cape Hamelin, the cliff of Joeys Nose, the grottoes of Redgate Beach and the many submerged reefs or rocks that created large waves both close and far from the shore.
The long, isolated walks were punctuated, almost daily, by small coastal towns set by idyllic beaches. Some were calm swimming bays, others rough surf beaches. At Yalingup, the submerged reef invites tropical fish to their southernmost location.
The hike could also be a walk through history. There is the discovery history, the geographical French names by Baudin and the English names by Flinders in 1802-3. Due to the many headlands and submerged rocks the coast has laid claim to many shipwrecks. In one ten year period there were 80 ships wrecked. The larger ships coming from across the world dropped anchor in Albany, and the many smaller ships carried the loads north to Perth, around the two capes. Names like Gracetown comemorate the efforts of a small girl and her brother who saved so many people from the surf after they had been shipwrecked. In Hamelin Bay just a few pylons remain of the jetty that once loaded much local felled karri timber, the jetty a victim of rough storms. In a single storm four ships had been wrecked in this harbour, many lives being lost. The telegraph line to the north to Bunbury was out, with no less than 351 trees having fallen across it. Shipwrecks aside, there was not one, but two rusty, calcified waterwheels to be seen along the way - one at Ellensbrook Homestead and another at the very end of the walk at Cape Leeuwin.
A small section of the trail heads inland to pass through karri forest. Heralded as the western most karri forest in the world, I think this is one of those absurd statements people make to draw attention to something's uniqueness. Statements like "the tallest main-made free-standing structure in the southern hemisphere" - there are a lot of sub-clauses there. So too with this western most karri forest. Endimic to the south west of Australia, of course the karri forest has an extreme at each corner of the compass. The forest could hardly have been growing any further west since it had run out of continent on which to grow itself upon.
That said though, it was still a very special day to walk through the forest. The deeper I went in, the narrower and more overgrown the track became, but also, the louder and broader the number of bird calls.
The weather, so much a part of the traveller's life, was for the most part superb. The first three days were in stunning sunshine - hot days marked by a cool breeze and refreshing ocean swims. My choice to walk from north to south was in large part incidental, but I came to realise my good fortune as the sun was always behind me. The fourth day things began to turn, locals warned me of storms coming. Nothing much but grey cloud showed, and it wasn't until dusk that the first rain fell and thunder could be heard in the distant west. It was a slow moving thunderstorm, it wasn't until three am that the thunder reached me. The following day, the fifth day, was downright miserable. The surfers were gone, and the fishermen packed up their gear at the first sign of rain. The towns and beaches were empty, but I battled on, anticipating finer weather for the last day. Finer it wasn't, overnight the wind picked up, which left me walking into a headwind along an eight kilometre beach.
The campsites weren't outstanding, compared to those on the Bibblumun Track or Victoria's Great Ocean Walk they were downright miserable. I think the settlers and surfers got in first to choose all the best sites, most of the campsites seemed to me to be poorly sited. They had difficult or no beach access, and were often viewless. The facilities were minimal: flat ground - well mostly, a park bench, a toilet and some rainwater. These are all good, indeed very much needed, but what was glaringly lacking was a shelter of some sort, somewhere to retreat to in the rain and meet other walkers. Well, okay, there wasn't much in the way of other walkers, but in the rain it certainly would have been nice to have that focus point of a good campsite. The campsites were good in that they were hiker dedicated, you could only walk in, there was no vehicle access, so rubbish and nuisance campers are kept to a minimum.
It is possible to avoid the campsites altogether, instead opting to stay in caravan parks along the way. Literature suggests most people do this hike between five and eight days, and the many accommodation options along the way allow for lots of possibilities. I hiked some long days, usually between 24 and 29 kilometres a day. Faced with a short 20 kilometre day, followed later by a 30 kilometre day - in an effort to avoid paying caravan park fees - I decided to even out three days, converting from 20-27-30 kilometres to 26-26-28 kilometres. I did this by camping in a nice spot near Kilcarnup Beach, a distinctive place called Joeys Nose. Surfies had made vehicle tracks every which way here, and many campsites too.
The days may be long in kilometres, but not so long in duration. There is never much gain in elevation or climbing, so long kilometres are easily possible. I usually walked 16-18 kilometres before lunch, and finished hiking around 3.30pm. Sunset was just after five, the winter solstice being just weeks away.
The track is marked, good topo strip maps are available from the
Cape to Cape website and Lonely Planet's
Walking in Australia guide. The Lonely Planet guide was immensely helpful, not for the maps but for the track notes. The trail markers have no arrows, so often they will guide you into a carpark or town, but you are left there scratching your head. It isn't until you have walked a few metres down the correct track, that you see another trail marker confirming your choice. Often there was no confirmation, which is where instinct and the Lonely Planet guide was so helpful. The guide would mention things like "take the second - not the first - staircase off the beach," or, "at the Y-junction take the right fork" and so forth. The towns weren't such a problem, or matterred that much if you take a wrong turn, as you can figure out how where to exit the town from the detailed town maps inset on the topo strip map. Beach exits were particularly troublesome, often there would be a large sign reading "Cape to Cape Track", but sometimes not. Following the footprints in the sand seemed to be the key, except in cases of tracks between carparks and beaches where the footprints could lead you astray.
In towns I kept detouring the local general store in a bid to find some duct tape, my
Thermarest Neoair, or should I just say
neo, air mattress wasn't lasting the night. Generous use of some duct tape should remedy the problem until I can fix it at the end of the trip. No-one seemed to sell it, after a 1.2 kilometre walk to a store and back on the third day, I gave up.
Incidentally, if anyone is interested in purchasing a state-of-the art piece of plastic, drop me an email. Upon reaching camp you consume all remaining energy blowing into it to inflate it, topping it up just before bed time as your warmed air has now cooled and condensed, and you have a very comfortable bed for at least two hours, and some air in it for at least six. Extra light and compact, thin bits of plastic to sleep on were never so comfortable. Upon finishing my six day hike, I spent twenty minutes searching everywhere for the source of the leak. This aint no finding-a-puncture-in-a-bike-tyre experience let me tell you, the holes seem to perform only under a wriggling body, I could find no sign whatsoever of a leak.
My
Exped Vela I Extreme tent went very well. I have only used it briefly in New Zealand, and on two nights of the Bibblumun Track last week. I was able to test both packing up and setting up in the rain, as well as cooking in the vestibule - it excelled at each task and I was most comfortable in the spacious tent and vestibule - and importantly - me and my gear remained dry.
I had planned to walk from Cape Leeuwin into Augusta to my car, but decided, in part due to some hip pain (oh goodness here's a new one), to call a cab. Having done so, it allowed me to get to the supermarket to restock with food before it closed for the day at 1pm (it was a Sunday), if I walked into town I would be buying some foodstuffs at a servo and/or eating out for dinner. My car seems to be mouse free, the mousetraps untouched in the last seven days. The car does smell rather though, as I read somewhere that mice hate mothballs, so I had bought some and placed them in the cabin and engine bay before catching the bus north, having removed them now smell still lingers somewhat...
My photos, for the first time, I have geotagged them using some fancy software that matches my GPS unit's track times with when the photo was taken, so in Picasa each photo includes a map which shows exactly where it was taken.
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Download kml file to view in Google Earth or adapt to use as a navigational aid in a GPS unit. The file has been modified from the one displayed in the map above, I removed my various detours and getting lost moments, so it should be quite an accurate record of the track (the path through some towns isnt quite right). |
Stats
|
Cape to Cape Track, WA |
Tue |
Tue |
Wed |
Thu |
Fri |
Sat |
Sun |
18/5/10 |
18/5/10 |
19/5/10 |
20/5/10 |
21/5/10 |
22/5/10 |
23/5/10 |
Dunsborough to Cape Naturaliste |
Cape Naturaliste to Mt Duckworth campsite |
Mt Duckworth campsite to Moses Rock Campsite |
Moses Rock Campsite to Joeys Nose |
Joeys Nose to Point Road Campsite |
Point Road Campsite to Deepdene Campsite |
Deepdene Campsite to Cape Leeuwin |
Distance |
16.6km |
10.2km |
24.2km |
26.6km |
26.7km |
29.1km |
16.0km |
Start Time |
8.10am |
12pm |
8.10am |
8.00am |
7.45am |
7.45am |
7.45am |
End Time |
12pm |
3.30pm |
3.30pm |
3.10pm |
3.15pm |
4.05pm |
11.30am |
Moving Duration |
3h13m |
2h7m |
5h13m |
5h25m |
5h19m |
6h13m |
3h15m |
Stationary Duration |
56m |
52m |
2h8m |
1h47m |
2h8m |
2h10m |
30m |
Moving Average |
5.2km/h |
5.2km/h |
4.6km/h |
4.9km/h |
5.0km/h |
4.7km/h |
4.9km/h |
Overall Average |
4.0km/h |
3.7km/h |
3.3km/h |
3.7km/h |
3.6km/h |
3.5km/h |
4.2km/h |
Oodometer |
16.6km |
27.8km |
52.0km |
78.6km |
105.3km |
134.4km |
150.0km |
Mt Meharry is a strange one to access. Although in Karijini National Park, it can only be accessed from roads outside the park. I had read some magazine articles and online forums, it seemed an easy enough climb. Access was via some dirt roads off the Great Northern Highway. As a matter of courtesy, I asked at the national park visitor centre for the best way to access the peak. Contact the nearby pastoral station, they said, as you will need to cross their property. Armed with their phone number, but with limited phone reception, I managed to get their answering machine. At my chosen campsite, a rest area off the Great Northern Highway, I overhead some other campers talking about Mt Meharry. I sidled over to question them. They had already been up there today, having driven their 4WDs to the very top. They had asked no permission, they had followed the trip notes in a 4WD magazine. Having copied some of the details down, I could rest easy confident I was still able to do the climb the following day.
Some 16 kilometres down this well made dirt road, shared by road trains and mine workers, is a simple sign indicating the track to Mt Meharry, to be tackled by 4WDs only. Carefully following the trip notes I had copied the previous night from the magazine, I proceeded down a series of roads. All 4WD but pretty easy going. I had no intention of driving to the summit, I am a bushwalker, not a four wheel driver. I drove to the base of the mountain, perhaps some two kilometres closer than what a 2WD vehicle could brave. I climbed the steep 4WD track, a 380 metre ascent, but an easy one. 45 minutes to the peak, a cairn marking the summit. Littered with trophies so easily brought here by 4WD, and a logbook buried in the stone cairn. Not much mention of people walking up here, but it was a lovely walk. The 4WD track immediately after the plain gets nasty quick, perhaps only negotiable by raised 4WDs.
