Hiking to the “Prom”
Our much-talked-of hike to Wilson’s Promontory is over, and we had a wonderfully interesting eleven days, somewhat strenuous maybe, but full of interest and incident. There were eleven in our party, including three daughters of a late beloved Bishop; the youngest of our party 15 years old, maybe, and the oldest more than four times as much. One had been to Sealers’ Cove previously, so he was constituted leader. On the morning we started the members of the company were lined up and we practised our war-cry, “Hike, Hike, Hike, Gyndahnook,” the last word being the name of the house we started from at Sandy Point, on the eastern side of Shallow Inlet, the home of four of our hikers. Half-a-mile brought us to a friend’s house; we crept up silently and gave our yell, bringing to the door the family and a visitor who wore a startled appearance and a clerical dress. Our friend Haughton boated us over Shallow Inlet in several trips of a row-boat, then our journey began in earnest. Fortunately we were able to send provisions, etc., by service car to the Chalet at Darby River, but even so, we were all rather heavily laden. From our starting point to the Chalet is about 15 miles.
We reckoned on having a good rest and cup of tea at Cotter’s Lake, but we got the disappointment of Eugene Aram in his dream, for “the faithless stream was dry.” As water was not obtainable, it was necessary to continue tramping, hot and weary as we were, until we reached the Darby River. We had walked all along the beach of the Eastern side of Waratah Bay, and now reached the cliffs which fringe the bay opposite Shellback Island, which, like nearly all the islands near the Promontory, is a bare granite rock. We were racing the tide, for the leader knew that unless we hurried, instead of having an easy walk on the wet sand we would have to scramble up over the high cliffs.
The cliffs are composed of windblown calcareous sandstone and are weird and fantastic in appearance. We managed to pass under the cliffs, scrambling over the rocks and dodging the incoming waves. Then the sand hills end, and in front is a great granite hill, but in between there trickles out the black waters of the Darby River. The tannin from the ti-tree swamp, etc., at the head of the river gives it the very dark color, but it is fresh and makes fair tea.
It was a great relief to wade into the dark water and cool one’s feet, then continue the walk for half-a-mile to the Chalet. This is a fine building, with accommodation for a score of visitors; from it a well-grassed paddock slopes to the Darby River. Our leader interviewed Mr. Butler, the ranger, and we were well received by him and his genial wife; a camping site was allotted and we quickly got to work and put up three tents and a canvas sheet for the boys. We has as neighbors half-a-dozen fine lads from the University High School. In the morning our bulky outfit was piled high on two fine pack horses. The pack saddles were of the best and the gear very good, but the six miles of hill and dale and the narrow tracks were a bit trying.
Our destination was Tidal River, and we made a camp in the ti-tree close to the hut there. The views noted were charming as we went along. From the gap at the head of Whisky Creek a wide open valley extends northwards with mighty mountain masses on the east. We could see across the Darby River the dunes of Yanakie, and our young hikers looked for their home in the Shallow Inlet. On the other side of the gap the views are very different. We passed several little bays with rugged granite rocks forming a bold and precipitous coast line. At Sugar or Leonard Bay there is a strip of silver sand and delightful little bays where the waves gently lap as we lead the horses along, and at Sugar Bay the sand “sings” as we tread on it.
From the track along this way there is a charming view of Norman Island and the islands of the Glennie group. In front the islets stand boldly out as huge stacks rising sheer from the sea, just solid rock. Looking to the left, southwards, there are islands getting small and indistinct in the hazy distance. With regret we leave this beautiful bay and start the climb over the next hill. Fortunately, since our leader last visited the Promontory the trustees of the National Park have cut a sidelong track up this hill, and we soon reached the top and saw below us our destination—the valley of the Tidal River, and beyond that the high, solid, somewhat mysterious Mt. Oberon.
The last part of the drop to the Tidal is very steep, and boggy in one part, and, then, what a relief to get on to the sandy banks of the little stream. There is very little water flowing down the river, which is fresh. Every tide the salt water flows a mile or two up stream from Norman Bay, and during heavy westerly weather waves sweep with force half-a-mile up stream. As soon as the camp was made our leader hurried to the Tidal River; the tide was coming in, and he caught a very acceptable meal of fine black bream, and next day got some large mullet and a bream of 2½ lbs. These beautiful fresh fish were a welcome addition to our food supply, which consisted mostly of tinned stuff and corned beef.
The camp was close to Mount Oberon. There is a beautiful surfing beach between the Tidal River and the foot of Mount Oberon. The bathing in the river is pleasant and safe. On the south side of the river a fairly wide strip of sand is fringed by tall manuka ti-tree; this gives place to low sandy ridges with some scrub and honeysuckle (banksia) trees, and these are succeeded by the steep sides of Mount Oberon. On the north side of the river a great hill drops very steeply to the water’s edge, on the slopes out-crop great granite rocks. This is characteristic of the Promontory for it consists of a huge granite mass which has been exposed for thousands of years to the wear and tear of the elements, the rugged character of its mighty hills is due to solar denudation having removed great masses of rock and left other masses standing out in relief, and in places, all over the Promontory single solid rocks of huge size form a prominent feature of the landscape.
Eight of our party walked from Tidal River and passed over the range to Sealers’ Cove. We go up the Tidal River and pass the turn off to the Lillypilly gully; then we have a short but stiff climb on the track up the “Bad Saddle.” From there, there is a well-graded cut track to the Cove. Sealers’ Cove is a delightful little bay. Down in the valley of Sealers’ Creek one passes along the remains of an old saw miller’s tramway to the beach. There is a narrow strip of silver sand and then the sea; the bay faces the east and the north and south sides consist of great hill masses with mighty outcropping rocks which begin at the water’s edge.
The bay is small but beautiful, and a perfect shelter from storms coming from the West. The valley of the Sealers’ Creek is a veritable botanical paradise. There are mighty blue gum trees towering up to the heavens, blackwoods and wattles not more than 12 inches in diameter, and about 100 feet high; great pittosporums, lilypilly, sassafras, musk, hazel, dogwood, blanket-leaf, myrtle-beach, and other trees all grow to perfection on the fertile soil of the valley, sheltered as it is from all stormy winds. On the beach there was a pile of very large shells (volutes) collected by some campers who were at the bay before us. There was a fine lot of bream in the creek. The little creeks in the valley contain fine blackfish and various minnows. Rockfish may be caught off the rocks in the bay.
After two nights at the bay we reluctantly returned to Tidal River. Pack horses were secured that day, and the next we returned to our former camp site on the Darby River at the Chalet. The next day we were astir early so as to get round the cliffs between the Darby River and Cotter’s Lake before we would be blocked by the rising tide. After an uneventful walk of about 12 miles wo reached Shallow Inlet and waited a few hours for the tide and the wind to abate somewhat, then availed ourselves of the boat rowed by Mr. Charles Pilkington and his son, and were ferried over to Sandy Point, where we were welcomed by relatives and friends. Thus ended our hike, an eleven days’ holiday greatly enjoyed by all who took part in it.
