Albany to Denmark 2008

We were a cosy group of just 9 plus Gisela plus me. Neal was our sole male representative and I have to say we were very pleased to have him. Only 3 were first timers with Inspiration Outdoors- Delys from Bremer Bay, her sister-in-law Nancy (tho Nancy and I knew one another many years ago), and Margot’s friend Julie. I was so thrilled to have Violet Ashford from the UK back for her third trip with me. And as I didn’t actually walk this trip, Violet has kindly written the following account……

This week has convinced me that this bit of the Bibbulmun track between Albany and Denmark is an ideal area on which to ‘cut one’s teeth’ on bush walking. Actually, none of the sections these last five days has been long (the total distance we covered was only about 80km) and instead of walking from hut to hut we have had the luxury of a fixed base in Denmark, with showers and food awaiting us and a small bus to drop us off at the spot where we finished the night before. It was ideal because those of us who haven’t done it before have experienced a variety of track conditions: from the sand of beaches to rocky and rolling paths, set both high and low. That is what the Bibbulmun track consists of, give or take some impressive sand dunes and a much more rocky terrain and forest in parts west and north of Denmark and outside our range this time. The route is way marked but in an organised group, such as the one we nine had opted for, we had the services of a guide, who made sure we did not unwittingly turn off the track and waste our steps. She knew where the good look-out points were and we ate some of our lunches looking out over the vast expanse of the ocean, fringed daintily with sand beaches. The shadows and ripples of the waves hinted tauntingly of whales and dolphins and some of us did indeed make sightings.

From a distance the bush seemed a uniform dark rolling green but on the track the variety of greens was astonishing and the spring flowers added a kaleidoscopic carpet of colours. We represented a wide range in ages, perhaps of some thirty years and with more women than men –most of us started as strangers but the group soon ‘gelled’. We neither pottered nor raced; there was time to find our own pace and spread out and indulge in our own particular interests. Mine is wild flowers and I did not have to feel guilty when I stopped to admire orchids or to capture the memory of a new flower on film. I am from the UK so there was much new to me here. We kept our eyes skimmed for birds but the little scrub birds are shy to display themselves and perhaps we chatted too much. A couple we spoke to, who were camping overnight in one of the huts established along the way, told us that they had heard a lot of bird calls the evening before and had watched at dawn as the birds flew down near the hut to feed.

The terrain was pleasantly varied and it was obvious that the path was well maintained; on one of the steepest bits there was a splendid long run of steps, engineered to save us struggling on sand. We did not meet a lot of people on the track but at this point, as we plodded up, we happened to cross a party doing the walk in the opposite direction and so had an excuse to catch our breath as we exchanged news. I must admit to missing the thrill of making our way through long stretches of tall trees, as we did last year on the Denmark to Walpole section. I just love that dappled shade and the grey trunks soaring upwards. We only had one beach of any length to master; they come as a daily diet on the Cape to Cape walk. We were fortunate not to have to battle against wind or rain, both a bane to those who wear glasses. The sand was soft and dry at the top of the beach but it is part of the game to check out where the firm sections are and make for them. A brave trio walked barefoot right on the wave line and I noticed that the few with walking poles seemed to get a good rhythm going with four-point purchase whether the sand was dry or wet. I shall remember M’s determination not to take off her boots when we came to a swift outflow from a small stream that cut across our route. I eventually capitulated and took off my boots and waded. Not so, M; she continued on her lonely track until reaching the mouth of the river, itself, and by some miraculous good fortune (and I think by dint of being able to grab on to an outstretched walking pole) stepped elegantly over several projecting rocks and arrived triumphant and dry-shod on ‘our side’.

I have to admit that I ‘kittened’ out when the opportunity came to take a dip in the ocean at the end of a couple of the walks. I believe one member even took a discrete ’skinny dip’. The others said it was lovely but I noticed that they did not stay in for long. It was, after all, still early in the season.

The chalet we returned to each night was really comfortable. I shared one of the twin bedrooms and our only man had the upstairs dormitory all to himself. We did eat well; the menu was nicely varied and there was a welcoming cheer for the cook each day as the meal arrived at the table. I have never seen food presented so beautifully and it seemed right that all the vegetables were locally grown, too.

The first night it was mild and we sat outside on the deck to take ‘tapas’. There weren’t even any flies to bother us. But the last two nights it turned cold and a roaring wood fire greeted us in the main room. We all gravitated to that end of the room to absorb its welcome warmth.

All together a wonderful experience.

For more photos of this trip, click here