When my alarm clock rang at 0430 on Saturday morning, the only thing I could hear was the rain falling outside. Needless to say I cursed Evan for letting me talk him into taking this trip with me...

We set out from Bondi Junction at about 0545 and arrived at Otford somewhere around 0830. After heading in the wrong direction for fifteen minutes (I let Evan navigate...) we finally reached the Otford Lookout and started our trek into the Royal National Park.

The trail we took takes you along the coast from Otford to Bundeena (eventually) and can be done in one day or two. Having done enough forced marches in the army to last a lifetime, Evan and I opted for the two day hike. Having said this, I might point out that this meant carrying in all the gear we needed, including 6L of water each. All in all it came out to about 15kg each.

                          _ _  /
                         / V \/
       ^                       Sydney Harbour
       N                 \__/\
      W+E                    /
       S              ____  /
                     /    \/
                    |       Botany Bay
                     \___/\
                     ____*/   <- Cronulla
                 .../_____ Port Hacking
              ...       */    <- Bundeena
             .          /
            .          /
           .          /
           .    RNP  /
           .        /
          .        /
          .       /
           .     /
            .   /
             *./   <- Otford

The first part of the trail takes you along the high ground, passing above Werrong and descending through Burning Palms to water level. For the Vietnam Vet. wannabe's, this is the Ultimate, humping it through the makebelieve jungle with a pack on your back... I was expecting a boat with purple haze blazing on a radio to come sailing out of the misty bush we were bashing through at any moment.

Stumbling down a slippery descent, I heard Evan say "WOW!!! look at that..." Indeed I looked to where he was pointing and saw a tree, but couldn't for the life of me figure out what was so "wow" about it. On closer examination I noticed what must have been a seven foot green stalk with a huge red flower on the top, that looked as if it had been taken from the "Little Shop of Horrors" set. This was my first encounter with a Gymea Lilly. I can't really tell you anything about these amazing flowers, except that they are beautiful, and worth a look.

On the way down we lost the track for about fifteen minutes, and while we contemplated the embarrasment of getting lost on such an easy trail, we played out the full Vietnam bit, going ass over down the muddy slope hanging onto vines for support etc... Eventually we realised that in fact it wasn't the trail that was lost, but our sense of direction.

Two things told us that we had reached Burning Palms... 1) There was an abundance of Palm trees which for some reason were not burning, and 2) We were able to get a fix on our position by pointing Evan's compass (which seemed to be on strike) at this really big sign stating that we were in Burning Palms

The trail to Burning Palms goes through dense vegetation, and except for the odd gap in the trees, you can't really see much of the stunning ocean view, but that doesn't mean that there is not much to see. For one, seeing Evan step in a huge puddle was quite entertaining in itself, but there is a lot to see in the way of native flora and fauna along the way too.

When you leave Burning Palms, you leave the jungle behind, and find yourself walking through knee height scrub. This is the part where I was happy I had worn long pants despite the constant drizzle, as shorts would have left me with lacerated legs. This clear path continues for the rest of the trail, but more importantly takes you down to the waterline.

Here the trail leads you along the coastline at water level, slippery rocks and all, not dangerous, but definitely not for the faint hearted... Even I managed to go arse over once or twice, while Evan the mountain goat stood next to me laughing.

At any rate, we reached Burning Palms beach and decided that it was time for a water break and a photo opportunity not to be missed. Looking back on the way we had come I noticed that the terrain itself was a work of art, as can be seen in the smooth curve of the promontory ( I only just learnt this word and plan to make full use of it...) leading down to Burning Palms Beach.

We continued along the waterline for the rest of the day, passing South and North Era beaches, to Garie Beach, where unbeknowest to us there was a YHA hostel. However, as we all know, hostels are for wimps, and real men rough it in a tent. And anyway, considering the fact that I had carried the damn tent this far, there was no way I wasn't going to use it!!! (Evan carried the fly and poles the slack bastard). So... in spite of the fact that we had reached Garie Beach several hours earlier than we had intended, we decided to pitch camp and have a nice relaxing afternoon cooking maggi noodles over hexamine stoves, in the rain.

There is definitely something to be said for the absolute beauty of an empty beach in the rain. I think that the best part of the trip was the few minutes we spent on Garie Beach, contemplating life, the universe and my comp 1B assignment that is due in two weeks. In fact, this contemplation took such a toll on us that we both decided to take a siesta after lunch. Lying in our tent listening to the sounds of the Ocean I really felt at one with my surroundings, right up to the point where some posh camper woke us up to enquire if ours was a "Proper" camping site... The fact that there was a big dome tent with two blokes inside, set up under his nose didn't seem to give him much of a hint. Can't help feeling sorry for the poor sod. Still, he didn't talk to us much after he found out that I was Jewish, so I guess that there's some solace in bigotry.

At around 1900 a storm started brewing up, so Evan and I decided to call it a night. Listening to our Anti-Semitic neighbors get wet, I slowly drifted off into the peaceful sleep that only mother nature can provide....

Having done the hard part on the previous day, we allowed ourselves to sleep in... We awoke to find that the storm had cleared and a beautiful sunny day awaited us. We cooked breakfast while watching our wet neighbors try to dry themselves out. Of course, if they hadn't been such snobs we might have warned them that it wasn't such a good idea to pitch camp right in the gulley, what with the storm and all, but some things are better left unsaid, especially to anti-semites.

The second part of the trek is just as beautiful as the first, but the terrain is a lot easier. Once we had climbed the initial cliff wall, the terrain became quite level and made very easy walking. The views from the top of this cliff line are fanstastic. The trail on the second day took us through a lot of burnt out bush, but many species of plants were making a very strong comeback. All along the trail we saw little Banksias rising out of the burnt old parent Banksias. This in itself is a marvel of nature, the way the total destruction of a bushfire can actually cause some species to regenerate.

After about an hour and a bit, we reached Curracarong, which is famous for it's Eagle Rock, named after a piece of rock jutting out of the cliff that bares an amazing resemblance to an eagle's head. Sadly, from here onward, the trail caters for tourists and amateur daywalkers... I say sadly, because some bright spark has built a steel grate walkway above some really beautiful landscape. This along with the cemented steps on some of the tougher climbs of the day make for easy walking, but spoil the serenity of the place.

We passed several stunning waterfalls on the way to the Wattamola falls. These falls are a very popular venue for people who want to get out of the city for the day. They overlook one of the most beautiful beaches in the area, but are also usually jam packed with daytrippers. Needless to say we were happy to leave Wattamola and it's five terraced parking lot behind.

About 30 minutes out of Wattamola we made our final stop, to have lunch. By this time my pack was getting really light, in spite of the fact that Evan had let me carry all the heavy gear... and I could feel this great weekend coming to an end. It was also at this point that I realised that I had forgotten to bring suncream. There is a lesson to be learnt from this, as my peeling neck will attest. Something to do with holes in the Ozone layer.

After a quick lunch and a refreshing foot wash in the FREEZING water of a handy rockpool, we humped it down to Little Marley Beach. The more adventurous, or shall I say keen, camper could actually pitch a great camp here, overlooking the beach, but exposed to the elements. Still, the place was simply beautiful. Little Marley led to Marley, which was about twice the size, and the way seperating them once again bore a silent testimony to the shocking bushfires of '93. The trail was marked by burnt out trees and treated pine logs.

From Marley Beach to Bundeena, there is nothing to be said about the terrain. Plenty of people wandering around with daypacks, trail bikes, and basically sandy and boring terrain. We could tell that we were reaching the end of the trail, but we had had a good time at it. As we entered Bundeena, the images of my past haunted me for one last time. It is always a strange feeling to return to civilization after spending time as Mother Nature's guest.

A quick ferry ride to Cronulla, and a train to Bondi Junction and we were home. Nothing could have absolved my material worries better than this weekend. I hope to make this trip again sometime, as I'm sure that there is plenty that I missed this time through...

This is boring...take me home