Victoria’s Toughest Hike?

My Solo Adventure on the Wilsons Prom Northern Circuit

I came around the last bend, down the slight incline and saw the carpark ahead of me. The dusty clearing shimmered in the afternoon heat, pale gravel glowing under the sun, the bush behind it standing still and silent as if nothing monumental had just happened within it. There was Felix the Forrester (my car) sitting in the same spot I had left him 3 days earlier. He looked untouched, ordinary - completely unaware of what I had been up to.

I welled up with emotion, feeling the heaviness in my chest, the bottom lip tucked up, and yet no tears formed in my eyes. I must be too dehydrated to even cry, I thought to myself. I crashed into the back of my car, dropping my heavy pack, sucking the last drops of water out of my hydration bladder.  I opened the boot, collapsing into the car and laying on my back - so much emotion. The smell of dust, sweat and salt still clung to my clothes.

Grateful to have completed an epic hike. Grateful to be in (albeit) one piece. Grateful to my incredible feet. Grateful to be alive. I lay there staring up at the inside roof of the car, heart still thudding, body humming - the wild still buzzing under my skin.

I can do hard things. 

Why the Prom?

I was training for a 100km race to occur that same weekend - One of my favourite mountain adventures full of elevation, grueling terrain and epic river crossings. However, a nice little heel spur injury had dampened my training. ‘I will just hike it’ I decided, calculating the cut off times. Then the flu hit me only 10 days out and true to form it went straight to my chest, congestion all over my lungs. There was no way these lungs could handle that elevation - I had done that before and ended up with pneumonia. Lesson learnt. 

But I was fit(ish) and keen for adventure so what else could I do? Sea air must be good for the lungs right. The Northern Circuit of Wilson’s Prom had been hanging in the back of my head for a few years. Blogs I had read called it ‘Victoria’s toughest hike’ and being a lover of solo hiking I was keen to see why.  The northern Prom is nothing like the polished boardwalks and postcard beaches most visitors see. It’s raw. Untamed. A tangle of coastal heath, tea-tree thickets and remote coves backed by granite headlands. Fewer markers. Fewer people. More consequences.

I had to talk to Parks Vic, assure them that I was capable and give them my experience, including promising that I knew how to navigate, would carry a GPS and an EPIRB (Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacon). With that all cleared away I was given the permit to tackle the hike. This is not the kind of hike that I recommend anyone without significant experience tackles.

My preparation included downloading 3 GPS routes onto my watch, my phone, and a spare phone (stops the battery dying on my actual phone) and dusting off the compass. I re-checked batteries on the EPIRB and made sure I had all the yummy food I could carry. Water was going to be an issue as the Prom is dry in summer so I decided to carry 8L which would still have me rationing water along the way. The weather was warm and dry - almost too warm - but I would take it. 

I finished up work on Thursday and whilst I had planned to hike 10kms to the first camp site, Lower Barry Creek, I didn’t get to the carpark until about 6pm and I was hesitant to hike overgrown track in the dark. I could hike 5kms to the track junction as it was easy walking on 4WD track, or I could car camp. I opted to car camp as I could then smash down some water before leaving in the morning and lighten the pack a bit. I was all alone in the carpark, set up my bed in the back of Felix and was very comfortable with my rehydrated Thai Curry, a can of shiraz and a movie playing on my laptop. Cozy and comfy and I had a great night sleep, waking only for a toilet break and to stare at the incredible display of stars overhead. 

Car camping in luxury.

Day One: 25kms. 8:48hours moving time. 

Up at 5:30am and I got ready in the dark whilst having a coffee and breakfast - still all alone in the carpark except for the kookaburras who were either cheering me on or laughing at my silly idea as I shrugged on over 20kg of weight onto my shoulders and set off. It was already warm with the sun in my face and I was dressed in tights, knee length gaiters, long sleeves and even had my gloves in my pocket. It was going to be a warm day! 

The first 5kms were cruisy, along the 4WD track with spectacular views of the northern Prom ahead of me. Rolling hills layered into the distance in muted greens and greys, the ocean flashing silver between headlands. The air already held that dry, slightly salty tang that only coastal bush seems to carry.

Excitement building for this adventure, nerves about what the trail might bring and joy at being out in the bush on a ‘work day’ - I got to the turn off to Tin Mine Camp quickly. It was single track and slightly overgrown. “This isn’t too bad” I thought. That optimism lasted about ten minutes. It didn’t take long before the shrub took over the path and I could no longer see my feet. Banksia and tea-tree leaned into each other, forming low tunnels. Grass trees reached out with spiky arms and the track dissolved into a suggestion rather than a path.

I had bought myself a waterproof cover for my phone that would hang around my neck and I now turned on the spare phone, opened up the GPS map and hung it around my neck. I also had the GPS on my Garmin watch and this meant I could quickly look at the map and assess if I was on or off track. When the shrubs grew taller and I could no longer see anything ahead of me I had to keep checking I was on route whilst also pushing myself through the thick shrub. The bush swallowed everything. The only noise was my breathing, the crunch of dry twigs underfoot and the constant scratch of branches dragging across my sleeves.

I gave up trying to see my feet and hoped the snakes would just hear me crashing through and move on their own accord. As the bush got higher around me, the cobwebs appeared. Thousands of them. Fine silver threads strung between shrubs at face height, invisible until they were suddenly across my lips, my cheeks, my ears. Spiders crawling down my arms to escape. Usually one who loves the odd cobweb because it means I have the trail to myself, these were never ending and I ended up having to also cover my face to stop myself accidentally eating a spider or its catch. 

At one point I realised I was off track - I needed to move to the west. I looked west and there was thick bush. I crashed through and found a very small clearing. I stopped, dropped my pack, sat on the ground and ate my apple. I had been going for a few hours now and when I feel my adrenaline rise, I find it is always a good time to stop and re-assess and have a snack. Sure enough, as I ate, I checked my direction and it wasn’t long before I was back on track. This was intense - nothing like I had hiked before. I knew that after Lower Barry Camp was actually worse than this section so I played in my mind whether I wanted this or not. “Just get to Barry Camp and make a decision” I told myself, pushing on. The mind was testing me - Was I really up to this? Could I handle this?

Lower Barry Camp was a small clearing only, near a very empty creek. The creek bed was dark and still, water stained tea-brown, trickling lazily between smooth stones. It was a lovely shaded spot to pull out some lunch and enjoy a break. I had tuna with beans and rice in some soft tacos with cream cheese and a piece of half melted chocolate. It was delicious. Food really is fuel on these adventures - you can feel it replenishing your energy levels ready to go again. There were no more thoughts of going back - I was all in on this adventure! 

The next 12kms, I had researched, was going to be the toughest terrain I had to tackle, including heavy dense bush to navigate and a swamp that could be waist deep wading. I was ready for it. I set off, following my map and even singing to scare off the snakes. At first I enjoyed the bush bashing, pushing away shrubs, giggling at them, laughing when tree grass tried to trip me up. After 3 solid hours of it however, including losing the track multiple times, being in bush so dense that it covered over my head, and realising that if i did get bitten by a snake and pushed my EPIRB a helicopter couldn’t even see me in this bush - I was starting to get tired and frustrated. ‘Patience’ I kept telling myself out loud. ‘One step at a time’. ‘You will be at the beach soon’. When I would get frustrated I would put my head down, hold my poles up to stop my head hitting anything too solid and push through. Times like this I would have to tell myself to ‘slow down’ or risk actually falling over. I had already tumbled down multiple times, landing on tree grass and getting annoyed at myself for pushing too fast. The vegetation here felt primeval. Thick coastal heath shoulder-high and unrelenting. No horizon and no breeze. Just green pressing in from all sides.

I eventually hiked over some hard mud, and thinking this was the swamp was pleasantly surprised. Not long after though I turned a corner and saw the real swamp. Waist deep wading in warm swampy water that stunk was epic and dare I say it, was a bit of fun. I was getting exhausted now and knew that I should try and have another break rather than push on to the beach. When I hike I can often get so focused on the end goal, or the next ‘stop’ that I don’t take a break when I actually need it, or I push too hard and fast and make mistakes. I came across some more mud and thinking that it would also be hard underfoot, I walked straight over the top of it. My left leg sunk up to my waist, and before I could stop the momentum of the walk, the right leg went in as well. I was up to my waist in mud and stuck. I tried to move my legs and could feel my shoe ripping off, but the leg wouldn’t come out. Panic started to rise in my throat. 

“Breath Jaqui” I said out loud. 

“Think and think fast”. 

I knew that once mud had you, you had to move fast. I threw my body to the left on top of some bush that was harder, more compact ground. That would stop my whole body sinking. I wrapped my arms around a bush and with every bit of strength that I had, I pulled my right leg up and free and laid it across the mud. Surface area over the mud, I thought to myself. Then with another loud grunt I manage to pull the other leg out and lay it across the mud. I was now lying in the mud with legs on solid ground and arms on solid ground and my belly laying over the soft sinking mud pit. I lay there for a few seconds, taking some deep breaths. The heart rate was sky high and the legs were shaking. With 20kgs on my back I now had to leapfrog my leg up to my shoulders, onto solid mud and climb up and lay over the shrub. My entire body was covered in mud and the first thing I thought was that I was grateful I had bought the waterproof cover for the phone. I got up and moved on quickly to get away from the mud pit, then sat on a shrub, shaking. I knew this was just adrenaline.

“You are ok” I repeatedly said to myself out loud as the heart rate slowly came back down. ‘You did ok” I kept saying to myself. Worst case you would still be in the mud and your EPIRB activated waiting for help - you were not going to sink completely under. You did good, you are alive, you are ok. Talking to myself for a few minutes regulated my nervous system. I had a snack and felt like I could tackle anything now. 

Good vibes to have for another 2 hours of bush bashing until suddenly the bush thinned and light flooded in. The smell shifted  - salt and fresh air replacing the earthy musk of swamp. The sound of gentle waves, faint at first, then unmistakable. Screw any trail now - I put my head down and pushed through the bush landing on the beach with a squeal of joy! 

Kilometres of beach spread before, not a single soul in site.  The ocean a sheet of deep turquoise fading to pale aqua near shore. I dropped my pack and crashed straight into the waist deep cool ocean. Shoes, gaiters, gloves and all. I basically had a bath in the ocean, scrubbing the mud off me. Eventually I came out and laid my poncho on the sand, stripping everything but my undies off and laying it out to dry. I went back into the water and just lay there for a long time, floating on my back and being in awe of what I had just walked through. The mud kept replaying in my mind and I kept reminding myself that I was ok. Then I kicked myself that I had not taken a single photo since Lower Barry Creek - I was too focused on surviving the section. When I thought a stingray was getting too close I got out of the water, only to realise it was a Wobbegong Shark - and there were lots of them everywhere! I was pretty certain Hubby had told me once that they were harmless and I left them alone, and thankfully they left me alone. 

Shark meeting

The beach to myself

I lay on my poncho in the sun relaxing and taking in some water. I had some reception and flicked off a quick message to Hubby to let him know I was through the worst of it for the day and would either camp up on the beach or hike the 3kms to Tim Mine Camp and set up for the night. The only thing that eventually got me moving was the hoards of march flies that had suddenly realised there was a human on the beach and moved into attack mode. I pulled on my shorts and sandals, grateful to have bare legs for a while and walked the 1km up the beach.

I tried to just ignore the flies feasting on my bare legs but when I looked down and saw the bleeding bites, on top of all the scratches I already had, I moved into the water to wade along in the shallows.  When I reached the junction to camp, back onto the trail, I had one last swim before re-dressing in my wet tights, top and gaiters and walking the 2kms to the campsite. It was a stunning walk, up over the beach with views back the way I had come and then dropping into the most beautiful little shaded campsite. With a short walk to a private beach and a fresh water creek I could not be happier with my little home for the night. 

Looking back over Chinaman's Beach

My private beach at camp

I threw everything out of the pack, stripped down to my undies again and headed back for another swim in my private beach. The scratches and bites on my body stung as I lay in the ocean, taking the weight off the body by floating on my back - it was bliss. I collected some water from the creek on my way back - I would only use this for cooking as I had read in my blogs that it had a funny tannin taste. I treated it with tablets and also boiled it for cooking. With my little tent set up, the sun dropping in the sky, and a belly full of food I reflected on such a big day. I was pretty proud of this body and what it had done. As I looked at the bruises and scratches all over my legs, and the holes appearing on my tights I was so grateful at its strength, but also incredibly happy with the day. With wombats scurrying around, I lay my head back, pulled out my Kindle and relaxed. I was exhausted! 

Yummy creek water!

Day Two : 21.5kms 8hours 

I didn’t sleep well. I should have, being that exhausted, but I struggled to switch off and get to sleep. Perhaps all that adrenaline was still hanging around. I got up a few times to wee, a good sign that I had rehydrated well and was greeted with the most beautiful display of stars I have ever seen. I watched satellites and shooting stars and sent a prayer up to Dad to keep me safe.  Eventually I dozed off, getting about a solid 4 hours. I woke to what I thought was a wombat scurrying close to the tent, looking for food, and realised it was actually my stomach growling! I got out of bed at 5am, still in the dark, and made some breakfast. It was another big day today and I thought I would get out early. With Nutrigrain in my belly and coffee to wake me, I was on the trail by 7am - after a little visit to my private beach of course. 

I backtracked 2kms to Chinaman’s beach and then turned off to the east. I knew the trail would still be overgrown today, but not as bad as the prior day. I was once again in my tights, long sleeves, gaiters and gloves and spent the first few hours pushing through shrub, albeit I could actually see a bit of a path under me this time. When I hit the east coast, Hunter Point, I was happy to drop down to the beach. 

The eastern coastline felt wilder. The ocean was more exposed with swells rolling in. Millions of little crabs greeted me, running away from me, or burrowing into the sand when I would approach. It was low tide, as planned, and they were hilarious to watch. I giggled at them and enjoyed being able to walk without watching my feet, or pushing back brush. The gloves were off and I walked with ease for a good 4kms up the beach.

As the march flies closed in, the torrents of abuse started. The language that I was directing at these flies was abhorrent! “Jaqui are you hangry?” I said to no one. Then it dawned on me - The march flies, which usually didn’t really bother me, were highlighting that I had not eaten and my belly was growling. I pushed on to the end of the beach, where I found a comfortable rock, sprayed my legs with Bushmans to ward off the flies, and tucked into a solid lunch of tuna, beans and rice in soft tacos with cream cheese. Man it was good! 

Lunch Spot

I checked my maps on what was next. I had screen shot tides and also some of the blogs and I knew that I had a section of rock hopping. It was still low tide and I was on the rocks so I figured these were the rocks I was to hop over, based on the watch GPS course. I started across them but soon realised this was far too dangerous and slippery. I checked my back up GPS route and it went over the top of the rocks, through the bush, so I back tracked and found a small hole in the bush and decided to go for it. After pushing through the thick bush I saw a tiny piece of pink tape. This is the flagging tape that marks the course. Hilarious really because it doesn’t do anything like that! Sometimes when I thought I was lost I would look up and see a bit of old faded tape and laugh because somehow I was on course, when it was so thick I thought I was off course.

I spent the next few hours fighting even thicker bush than the day before. I veered off course so bad at one stage that I couldn’t work out how to go back. I knew I needed to move to my left so I started to just lie down on top of the shrubs to flatten them and then crawl over the top of them. An idea that came to me from my memories of hiking the 3 Capes Track in Tasmania. Apparently the two guys made the trail from doing exactly that. I spotted a taller gum in the distance, aimed for that and when I reached it I perched on a branch and got my bearings. A bit more ‘forest bathing’ on the grass trees and I found some semblance of a trail and pushed on, eventually coming out onto the beach in relief. 

Walked the first beach, bush bashed over the point and then walked the second beach!

At the end of this beach was Johnny Souey Cove Camp - a beautiful little spot nested between the bush and the bay. I stopped and dropped my pack for a rest, thinking about spending the night. I had 3.5kms of ‘easy’ trail to get to my intended stop, Five Mile Beach. I was tired but also knew that I wanted a shorter day tomorrow because of the drive home. I had a break and then hefted the pack back on and kept moving. Apparently this trail was ‘well groomed’. I was lulled into a false sense of security for the first 1km with low shrub and easy to see trail, but before long the gloves were back and the head was down as I pushed through an overgrown track. At least this time I didn’t lose the trail - in comparison to the other trails, I guess you could say this was ‘well groomed’.

Taking a bush break

As I dropped onto Five Mile Beach I had an estuary to cross and it would now be at high tide so I expected waist deep water. I heard voices and there were three people sitting on rocks, wiping their clean feet after crossing the water. They gasped when they saw me - tights ripped to shreds, holes in my top, bloody scratches appearing through the holes and I can only imagine how I smelt or the dirt on my face! They were shocked to hear that I had done the full loop and laughed as I walked into the water fully clothed, shoes still on, sighing with relief to cool my body down and crossed the waist deep water to the beach and camp on the other side. They had hiked in via the 4WD track that I would finish the loop on, doing an out and back just to Five Mile Beach for the night. I told them they were missing out on the best parts just doing the 'easy' out and back - they were totally fine with that after seeing my scratches. They were going for a short walk up the hill that I had just come down, so once they were gone, I stripped down to my undies again and enjoyed another swim. It had been an incredibly hot day and it was so nice to cool down. 

I was grappling with moving on or staying put. It was a small campsite and I didn’t really want to share with others when I was so exhausted and I could tell they would want to ask questions about my adventures. I was too tired and craved isolation. It was only 4:30pm so I thought I would push further up the beach towards the road that tomorrow would take me home. Perhaps even start up the road. I walked 1.5kms along the beach, munching on my trail mix before waves of fatigue hit me and I decided to just camp on the beach. 

I found a perfect little spot, tucked behind the dunes, where I was protected from any winds, but could hear the ocean crashing behind me. I set up camp, intending to leave only footprints, and hid away from the world with a can of shiraz, watching the waves in the distance. The can of shiraz was definitely worth the weight! I enjoyed the solitude, the peace and the sound of the crashing waves. How incredibly blessed I was to be able to physically do something like this, and experience something like this little campsite. I looked down at my bare legs, covered in scratches, and bruises and soaking up the last of the day's sun and thanked them for getting me through so much. In that moment I could not love this body more. 

Worth the weight!

With Mexican Chilli for dinner (my new favourite Radix meal) I settled back into bed, leaving the tent fly door open so I could watch the stars all night. 

Day Three: 17.5kms 3:52hours 

With bouts of waking through the night, mainly because my trusty little blow up pillow of 10years decided this was the night it would get a hole and die on me - I woke up rather stiff and sore. I had loved sleeping with the tent fly open and was in awe at the show that the sky had once again given me. 

Today was my ‘easy day’ and I was glad for it. I was down to my last water rations so had tuna in tacos for breakfast with coffee, giving me 2L of water to get back to the car. I had been drinking a lot more than expected with the heat but I was happy with my rationing over the 3 days. I had not gone to the bathroom however during the night, a sure sign of dehydration. I was all packed up and having coffee when the sun started to break the horizon and I was treated with the most beautiful sunrise, giving me a grin from ear to ear as I revelled in its beauty - all alone over kilometres of endless beach. This was all totally worth it! 

As I turned onto the 4WD track, leaving the beach behind me and sun hitting the back of my legs I was smiling. I was also very happy to be wearing shorts and no gaiters for today! It was a nice stroll along easy trail, with the occasional up or down for a few hours until I reached Barry Creek Camp - a small clearing at the opposite end of the creek that I had first sat down at on day one. I had a small break, finishing the last of my food, bar one emergency muesli bar and headed off again.

I thought this road would be boring, but it was beautiful. The track wound gently through open woodland - twisted gums casting long shadows, sunlight flickering through leaves. Occasional pockets of lush, almost rainforest-like gullies offered cool reprieve. 

Little wallabies popped out to say hello and I had stunning views of the area I had spent 3 days traversing. I enjoyed being able to look around me at the incredible sites. Within 1km from the car my body could feel the end was near and my feet started to ache and burn, all my little hot spots screaming for the shoes to come off. I was very hot and sweat ran down my back - my shirt itching to come off. 

I always have a post hike kit in the car ready. I had water, snacks and clean clothes waiting for me. Once I had the shoes off and lay down for a minute I gave myself a semi-clean with water and changed into fresh clothes. Despite the dirt under my nails, the salt in my hair and the bleeding blisters, it felt like luxury.

Such an adventure to reflect on for the 3hour drive home. The bruises and scratches on my body will heal, and my stories will fade, but I will hold this hike dear in my heart for as long as I can. 

Was it Victoria's toughest hike? It wasn't the most challenging thing I have put my body through - but it was definitely a mental challenge to do this one alone. Something about being alone - you make the decision, then if it's wrong you make another one. There is no one to calm you down, feed you, make you feel better. Only you can hold it together - or only you witness it when you lose your $hit. It tested me, then tested me again - and I loved that.

Sometimes it’s good to remind ourselves that we can do tough things.