The bottom track above the beach is rocky and narrow, with overhanging branches and some scrambling, and isn't everyone's cup of tea, and it was with some relief that we eventually reached the little peninsula overlooking the wreck that I can never remember the name of! A good few kilometres had been covered and a rest was welcome.
It was only after coffee that we found out that the route back was straight up the mountain to the jeep track waaaay up there. We craned our necks to see the track, but the slope was too steep and there was nothing for it but to put our heads down and place one foot in front of the other. Thank goodness for the pulling power of a pair of poles. Although I had to stop frequently to catch my breath, my legs didn't feel the climb at all, and I am constantly amazed by the progress I have made from absolute novice hiker to fit as a fiddle.
Hiking in this area is always approached with caution and as large a group as possible, although we have never had any incidents, but we passed three people at different times, walking their dogs unaccompanied, so it was encouraging to see that life does carry on. From a dizzy height on the track, we descended to the beach at Sandy Bay and made our way back to the cars along the seemingly endless trail through the bushes - I certainly wouldn't want to do that on a hot summer's day and was very grateful for the cool wind blowing. After 8km and plenty of uphill, I can still say it was a delightful walk and I'm happy to do it again.
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