Early on the morning of Sunday 6 July, I found myself arguing with a small blonde flight attendant that my powerbank did not require a Dangerous Goods exemption because it was under 100 Wh.
“But this says 250 Watts! You”ll kill us all!” she insisted, pointing at the wrong number.
Sighing gently, I stood firm, and after making a phonecall to somebody intelligent, she meekly returned my property and allowed me to board.
I mention this only because it becomes important later:
Not only does proper planning prevent poor performance, it also prevents potentially perilous predicaments!
With no further resistance, before we knew it my son and I were lunching with family in Victor Harbor (one hour south of Adelaide), brimming with misplaced bravado.
“Five-day 74 kilometre hike? Ha! We eat multi-day bushwalks for breakfast!” sorta thing, while snarfing up a plate of fortifying fish & chips.
We then left for Cape Jervis and by 7pm were fortifying again in the Tavern, enjoying Coopers Pale Ale and the tuneful warbling of a medium-sized blonde playing acoustic guitar hits from the 80’s.
The beer was cold, the grill was mixed, and we were ready.
“Men versus wild!” we chortled, “Bring it on!” and retired to our lodgings for the night well-pleased with ourselves.
Nek minit.
Day 1 (Cape Jervis to Eagle Waterhole) is a 16km grade-four bushwalk the trailnotes describe as ‘easy’. So we set off from the trackhead at the ferry terminal with a spring in our step, and found the first 4km easy.
But then it suddenly wasn’t. Because ‘grade-four’ means hills, and the Fleurieu Peninsula has a fuckton of them.
Grinding up and down, we mounted a stile to enter Deep Creek National Park and dropped steeply into Blowhole Beach for lunch.
Picture the above on a leaden-grey winter’s day with a stiff, springing wind. Slurping my delicious soup, the gusty-blustery wind and weirdly silvering sun and racing clouds seemed ominous.
But I didn’t mention any of this to my son — no need for alarm — besides, we’d only just passed the “quirky UFO house” and still had Kangaroo Island filling the entire southern horizon.
Plus, we had “The Cobbler” between us and camp.
The infamous Cobbler Hill is your first real taste of the wild in Wild South Coast Way.
A rocky goat-track ascending 250m elevation over 1500m, it doesn’t sound steep on paper and mostly isn’t — but some stretches are very steep, especially if you’re shouldering a full pack.
And the climb is unrelenting.
At the summit we paused to drain a precious litre of water from the near-empty tank at the campground, then enjoyed the “relatively easy” walk to Eagle Waterhole camp where we spent the dregs of the day.
We paid $31 for this:
By then I already knew I’d lost my suglasses and one glove. But it wasn’t until I fully unpacked that the odds really began to stack against us.
I’d forgotten to pack tent poles.
So I gave my son the tiny (pole-less) tent I’d allocated for myself — the featherweight ‘Escapist’ by Sea to Summit — selected over my trusty Hilleberg ‘Akto’ with the game-of-grams in mind.
I mean, a bit squeezy but better than nothing, right?
See the yellow bit next to the island? That’s us.
Resigned to sleeping on the concrete floor of Eagle Waterhole shelter itself, I thought I was the one making the manly sacrifice. But then the storm broke, and I watched my son’s little tent take a battering.
Unbeknownst to us, the Bureau of Meteorology had issued a Severe Weather Alert: plunging temps, gale-force winds and heavy rain.
The 100kph+ winds would push us to the limit. Ahead was full days of rain, and also the coldest daytime temperature in four years.
And while our clothing was still dry, it wouldn’t stay that way.
About midnight, I checked my watch and wasn’t surprised to see I’d taken 28,788 steps. But then I fell asleep and woke to discover we’d survived the tempest and made it to Day Two.
And (just for a minute) the sun was shining.
I mean, look at it. That looks alright, doesn’t it? I mean, what could go wrong?