Apostles and other tall tales

I’m tired- bone tired- this is the seventh day of slogging it. But no rest here- the  Twelve Apostles are in our sights. My fellow trudgers are tired too- the majority taking small breaks and missing bits out.  But of course, I’m so stubborn and have to walk it all- after all- I’ve paid for this.

And eventually in the afternoon we get there, after walking along the ridge tops for what seemed an eternity (and actually meeting a moving - all sliding and writhing - tiger snake and a leech).

After all the squealing about leeches, I didn’t actually realise that they take your blood painlessly.

What was all the fuss about?

The Twelve Apostles are not actually twelve at all- some have slipped back into the sea and they morph and reform as the the wild sea bashes them. But they remain an enormously popular tourist destination. A good road deposits thousands of clean tourists with their white pants, phones and cameras and selfie sticks onto the viewing platforms. We are overwhelmed, small scruffy group of tired stragglers surrounded by clean cheerful tourists of every colour.  We beat a hasty retreat- a couple of photos will do.

An amazing experience- the impressive coastline is fantastic to see from a car but bangs at your heart from up close. The weather took us with it and ensured that there was no complacency. We felt the dangers of this coast without even having to read the shipwreck books. The wild exposed beaches were hard to walk on but soo wild they make your heart race, that wild surf crashing so close. The southern oceans flexing and pumping like crazy body builders hoping to impress.

And so now it’s over bar the photos. Now it seems so short- not so slogging it out down the hundreds of slippery slopes yesterday.

When you all come rushing over to do this, think carefully about the weather and then do it anyway- it’s wonderful.

L

PS a few poems will emerge in the next few days when I recover!