Bells Beach & the Ironbark Forest, Victoria

Bells Beach

I was pretty sore after my last jaunt into the mountains, so I've decided to do some 'gentlemans' walks for the time being. Hiking doesn't always have to be about smashing oneself all the time does it? Does it?! Anyway, I thought a few casual trips to the coast are in order, especially during the hot weather we're having in Melbourne right now.

There's no better place to start my coastal pilgrimage than Bells Beach which has been on one of my places to visit for quite some time. A walk that combines the beach and a bit of inland forest hiking to complete a circuit sounded fine and it's sourced from my trusty Glenn Tempest book, 'Daywalks Around Melbourne'. There's actually a blurb on the walk at his Open Spaces Books website and I made note of one of the comments mentioning that the beach section is not passable unless it's extremely low tide. Mm... We'll see, but I can say the one reason I've always missed out on this walk is due to the tide not being in my favour on the days I could attempt the hike.

On the sand of Bells Beach

So, what's the plan if the tide is not in favour? Well, I'd be a daredevil and go anyway to see what would happen. I arrived on a clear, sunny day an hour after high tide and really I shouldn't have worried too much. The beach was clear for walking from Bells Beach all the way to my first destination being Point Addis.

Bells Beach is certainly well known judging by the international flavour of the voices I heard in the car park when I got there. I did get bailed up though by some Australian bloke who asked me, "Where are the changing rooms?" I said, "I'm pretty sure it's not one of those beaches. It's surfing only." The bloke then replied, "There must be, it's a famous beach." I guess he didn't believe me, so all I could do was the traditional shrug of the shoulders and say, "I dunno" as he left to accost someone else.

The silly thing is though, whenever I think of Bells Beach I'm always reminded by the worst attempt at an Australian accent in the history of cinema. That without doubt goes to the bloke who arrives at a fake 'Bells Beach' (it was filmed in Oregon) at the end of Point Break. The 'Australian' policeman who appears has an accent that is so mangled it sounds like the cross between a leprechaun with a vice around his nuts and a squirrel on helium. That's being generous as well. Why do they even bother? You know what's worse? Let's look at a photo and see.

Point Break. AKA worst attempt at an accent in the history of cinema.

Yep, that's the culprit above. The one thing I've also wondered is how the hell does he even see with the visor of his hat pulled down to his nostrils? He ends up with some sort of weird, 'chin way up high' system in order to see under his hat. It's real roofing nail stuff. I can say though that this unique hat wearing method can be pulled off if you show a bit of élan. One that comes to mind that looks okay is Ian Hendry in The Hill. He proves that the roofing nail look is not always the end result.

Now, that's what I'm talking about. Check out that peaked hat on Ian Hendry.

Walking? Oh yeah, I forgot about that. Well, I headed down to the beach and was off and racing. The coastline is magnificent on such a clear day, especially as part of the walk is lined with red coloured cliffs of jarosite. First of all though there was a bit of beach walking and I was feeling a little annoyed that I was wearing runners instead of sandals. The water did look inviting for a bit of a wade.

Point Addis in the distance.

The beach was very clean with no driftwood to catch my eye and you know what else? Shoes. My 'shoe sighting on beach visits' is pretty high, but I can say that I didn't see any washed up. There's a first for everything I guess. I did see some old rusty pieces of steel and wondered where they'd come from. An old shipwreck? A large pair of scissors?

Things were going great and it was inevitable that something would come up to spoil the fun. I was happily strolling along when I felt a sharp spearing feeling on my calf muscle. I knew from experience what that pain is caused by. I turned to look and sure enough. Bloody March fly!! I'd gone through some March fly trauma on my last hike to Mount Howitt.

On this occasion, the fly was so well and truly attached, that I had time to angle my leg and swipe my hand at roughly the speed of sound to connect right on his head whilst yelling, "bastard!". The fly dropped dead on the beach leaving my leg with a smear of my own blood and plenty more on his smashed body.

Smashed March fly. Pity he's covered in my blood...

At least I killed him and a size 13 shoe stomp was thrown in for good measure. Two things about this. One is I was wearing shorts and I still don't know why I do that, and the other is I didn't have any insect repellent. How do I forget these things? The whole area had quite a few March flies and it was the start of a day of swatting and checking that I wasn't getting bitten which is the thing about being munched on. I became acutely aware of every feeling on my legs as if the senses were heightened. "Oh my god, there's something on my leg!!" I'd swing around to look and it would be a bit of sand instead.

Oh well, on I continued and the story about needing low tide to do this walk was turning into a bit of a fallacy. I began to pass some cliffs with no hint of getting my feet wet.

This is a nice change from destroying myself up a mountain. Being a beach as well there is always the chance things will be a little bit out of the ordinary. I guess I realised this when I saw the following sign.

Get your gear off.

I guess it would feel quite comfortable, but I was too scared of sunburn to think about disrobing. Not the bloke who was walking in front of me though. I quickly caught up to him and I noted the only thing he was wearing was a hat. I suppose he was being a little 'sun smart'? I felt a little uncomfortable in that I was walking with a camera in my hand, so he did check me out as I passed him by. I would to if I was strolling along with my tackle hanging out and then got overtaken by a bloke with a whopping big DSLR and telephoto lens.

The photos stopped for a little while whilst I passed the nudists, but I soon entered the vast expanse of sand on Addiscott Beach.

Addiscott Beach

A bit more strolling and I reached Point Addis itself. I now had a couple of options of either heading straight up to the top of the cliffs via stairs or walk around the point to another set of stairs as per the walk notes. This though is where low tide is needed, but I figured the water was out far enough to give it a go. I noted a sign informing me that the cliffs are unstable which is always what you want to see when you're walking under, well, cliffs.

Point Addis

 

I love the rich colour in these cliffs.

I rock hopped a little and then reached a point where the water was up to the cliff, but it was so shallow and calm I thought it best to ditch the shoes and go for a bit of a wade.

Wading time at Point Addis.

I was being extra careful here not to slip. It was not me getting wet that I was worried about, but the camera. I understand dropping a DSLR in salt water is not the most desirable thing to do, so I was making sure my feet were firmly planted before taking another step. In my slow water walking I happened to look behind me and see a number of paragliders back in the direction I'd come. I may be short of sight, but I'm positive they weren't there when I walked through initially.

Paraglider frenzy.

During my wading I came to small cove which I accessed by an interesting looking rock arch. "Now is the time for the cliffs not to collapse", was my thinking.

I survived under the arch and within this sandy cove was the set of stairs I needed to get to the top. Umm... There was a slight problem though (of course there was)

Blast!

The track was closed, so I could either backtrack or continue on by trying to round another water covered rock shelf to the next set of stairs further along. I was on a roll with this wading business, so I thought I should continue. I began the same method, but the water was a little deeper with rock pools evident and I just knew I'd be pushing my luck with the camera in my hand. I reckon if I was only in my three-sizes-too-small speedos I could have successfully strolled around.

The end of the road...

So, it was backtrack to Addiscott Beach time and I thought I should do some fossicking whilst I was at it. The 'find' of the day so far was part of a fishing rod stuck in the rocks. That would have been one crap fishing trip to actually come home with not just no fish, but no actual rod as well.

I've got dem fishing blues...

I continued my retreat and I noted how sensitive my feet were walking on the rocks. I was uttering a lot of 'oohs' and 'aahs' as I gingerly strolled along.

Heading back to Addiscott Beach.

Looking back towards Bells Beach (with sore feet)   

I headed out of the arch way again, but due to foot pain I decided to go for a new approach by doing some 'ocean walking'. It was sandy and shallow, so I thought that would be the best way to proceed with the mantra in my head being repeated, "just don't drop the bloody camera". It was comfortable, but the worlds smallest waves had me jumping to keep the salt water out of my electronics.

I kept up my ocean walking until I reached Addiscott Beach and it was time to head up the stairs I'd passed an hour earlier. I took one last photo before ascending.

Addiscott Beach

On my way up the stairs I noted a seat with a plaque attached. I do like a seat with a story and this one was quite nice.

Actually, on the subject of seats with names I remembered my brother who thought when he first heard the U2 song, 'Where the Streets Have No Name' that the actual lyric was, 'Where the Seats Have No Name'. When he realised his error he didn't like the song any more, as he thought the concept of a city where there's no names on seats was a better idea.

Anyway, I got to the top of Point Addis and walked down a road to the end for a bit of a perusal. There's the odd lookout with nice views and I did come across a rather 'generous' sized bloke who I said "G'day" to and with a strong American accent replied with "G'day" as well. That took me a little by surprise, but he was getting right into this local lingo business.

Looking back at Addiscott Beach from Point Addis.

Now for some inland walking and the next section is through the Ironbark Forest. My plant knowledge is pretty minimal, but I know enough that Ironbark is a type of eucalyptus. I contemplated just returning on the beach as it was very relaxing, but then I thought of more March fly attacks plus potential random wanger exposure, so I elected to finish the walk as per the notes.

It starts off following the 'Koori Cultural Trail' which is a short walk through the bush with a number of information signs along the way. The shock of this though was I actually had to walk up a hill.

What's this? A hill?

The beauty of coastal walks though is that the hills are little and there wasn't going to be any '1000 metres climbing in a day' shenanigans. There are some nice lookouts on the way as well.

Point Addis from the Koori Cultural Walk. 

Now, from this point on I've no idea which track I was on at any particular time. I knew which way to go, but there are signs for multiple named paths such as the 'Nature Trail', 'Jarosite Trail' and 'Ironbark Track'. At times they all seemed to appear one after the other, so I lost interest into which was which after a while. I relied on the book to get me through. Oh yeah, the GPS as well.

Through the odd gaps in trees I could see the coastline and the paragliders were now a little closer.

I passed an unusually 'green' looking dam which didn't look very appetising. I think one would have to be mighty thirsty to contemplate putting any of that green water near the lips.

I've neglected feathers in the last few posts, but don't worry, here's one to admire that was on the track.

A few more kilometres of undulating walking and the track opened out onto a nice wide path with some views of the ocean through the trees.

Ocean views

This track was very comfortable walking, but one can never relax too much as I felt a sharp sting to my ankle of all places. Can it be? Yes, it can, as I looked down and a March fly was attached to my sock. Now I know why they hurt so much when I read that, "...they slice off the top layer of flesh, which feels like needles pricking into the skin and then lick the blood..." I'd being munched on again, but I managed to raise my foot and deliver with my hand a resounding blow to the bonce of the fly which left it mangled on the end of my finger. It was worthy of the photo below and it was close to being a perfect kill in regards to the finger it ended up on. This will have to do though, as I give the fly the 'ring finger'.

Hey fly. How does that feel?

Man, this walking caper can be full on at times. I continued monitoring bare patches of skin for flies as I followed what I believe is the Jarosite Track. There's the remains of an old jarosite mine in the area and if you really need to know, jarosite "...was used to make red paint pigment..." (I stole that quote directly from the notes of the walk). The path has plenty of red colour to it, but I've no idea if that has anything to do with the jarosite, but the contrast in colour did look good against the numerous green grass trees in the area.

Grass trees on Jarosite Track

The track made a descent down to where the old mine was, but there wasn't much to see. I'm not sure if there is anything else hiding in the bushes, but all I found was this disused well...

Old well at Jarosite Mine.

...and a dam which was accessed by possibly the deadliest set of stairs I've seen on a walk lately. These were real 'ankle snappers' and I can see why everyone avoids them, judging by the amount of footprints on either side.

The stairs need a bit of a spruce up...

My March fly phobia continued, but I did come across some of natures victories along the way. There was the odd victim in spider webs across the track and one web in which the flies had been wrapped up for lunch at a later date.

I was well and truly on my way to finish the walk as I returned towards the coastline again. I did come across a Cinnamon Fungus cleaning station though. I don't see many of these on my walks, although I remember a couple on the Great Ocean Walk. I make sure I do the right thing and give my shoes a good scrubbing over and dunking.

Scrub 'em...

Dunk 'em...

There's not much else to report now as the path popped back out on top of the cliffs near my car.

Final cliff top walk...

The track ended up at the road I drove in on. This is a true 'road bash' to end the walk, but it was very short and who cares with the views available.

Another few hundred metres and I was back at the car to end a thoroughly enjoyable walk. The GPS route I took is available for perusal at Garmin Connect. A comfortable 13.75 kms with a very casual total of 268 metres of elevation climbed for the day. It's enjoyable to get back to the coast again and I should be making the most of it as autumn approaches.

I didn't find low tide really necessary, but it was going out the whole time I was walking and the sea was pretty calm. It's probably a different story with a big swell rolling in. How about a final look of the ocean?

I was going to end with the photo above with the brilliant blues and greens of the ocean in summer. I couldn't though, as I really think the final photo should be a look at that Ian Hendry hat again. This is what I'm talking about...

Ian Hendry - The Hill

AAWT to Upper Howqua via Mount Howitt

The Crosscut Saw from Mt Howitt in the glare.

I really suffered the previous day on the climb up Helicopter Spur, but when finished there was one thing in my favour and that's an insanely quick setting up of the tent. I'd set up for the night in a Lightheart SoLong 6 and I really should write a review of it, as I've never slept in a solo tent that's so cavernous and that light. Besides being quick to erect, I also found out, it's a breeze to move as well.

Lightheart SoLong 6

I had just put it all together and was admiring it when I happened to look up and notice a whopping, big tree branch suspended directly above it. Mind you, it was suspended in the vertical position and the only reason it was still in the air was because it was jammed against another branch. Are you kidding me? It looked sort of secure, but knowing my luck the wind would pick up and it would come plummeting down through my stomach whilst I was sleeping. Definitely a Dracula set up for sure. Well, I wouldn't be able to sleep with the 'Branch of Damocles' above my head so I moved the tent. Lucky it takes less than five minutes to erect, so it was no big problem. Lesson? Look up before erecting the tent.

Branch of Damocles

The wind had started to pick up when I went to bed and it was noticeably chilly. With the trees creaking around me I thought the best thing I should do when darkness fell is read about a murder in the area which is detailed in the 'Buller-Howitt Alpine Area' map I was carrying. The Wonnangatta Murders just happen to be unsolved which is ideal bedside reading material whilst sleeping out in the bush on my own. I can't say I was too worried though as the murders were in 1917 and the chances of the murderer loitering around me at night would be pretty slim. If he was about, I'm sure I'd hear his walking frame anyway before he did much harm.

The map is quite descriptive in the murderous events and I was taking in the sobering writing until I read the line "...partially decomposed body of Barclay near a creek bed. Barclay's hat had been forced between his buttocks..." Hang on? Did I just read that correctly? I'm not sure what that has got to do with the crime other than allude to the reader that the murderer was kind of kinky? I really couldn't take it too seriously after reading that and I thought of the scenario, "You know what Barclay? I'm going to force your hat up your arse!!" Strange days indeed back in 1917.

I slept okay and in the morning the wind had completely dropped. I considered what I was going to do for the next days walk and in the end I just elected to head back, by following the rest of the walk description in the Glenn Tempest book 'Daywalks Around Victoria'. I had pretty sore shoulders for some reason and I was carrying way too much stuff. I seem to get sucked into carrying lots of gear because the area is 'alpine'. Well, that's no more, I've got light stuff and from now on that's all I'm going to use. I think I need a fire sale of all my old durable, but heavy crap. I just received a Gossamer Gear Mariposa pack the other day and it felt pretty good walking around the house (that's a test of equipment isn't it?) It will be the pack I take on my next overnight walk to try out, as I've finally convinced myself that this framed pack business sucks.

The weather was perfect and I set off with my destination for the day being Mount Howitt. There was a bit of uphill walking to come as the Australian Alpine Walking Track sidles past Big Hill. Yeah, they must have been short of ideas when they thought of that name.

AAWT track near Big Hill

As I slowly chugged up the side of Big Hill I did come across some great lookout positions. With gaps in the rocks there was a great view back towards Mt Magdala and beyond.

Mt Magdala and Hells Window from Big Hill

Although uphill, the walking was pretty straightforward and with the sun in my face it was time to get the polarizer out. I'd barely used it the day before and did you think I could go a day without colossal contrasting pictures? Sorry, but it's my modus operandi to sit back after a hike and wallow in the contrast after I've taken the photos off the camera.

More views from Big Hill

At about this point, any ideas I had about walking somewhere else for the day went out the window. It was all uphill and I was starting to curse the infernal leaden pack dragging me down. There's one thing though when feeling the pinch and that's my face tends to point straight at the ground which has a benefit of checking out the insects on the track.

There were some nice cobwebs on the way as well and the one below looked quite nice in the early morning light. I'm not sure where the spider was though, I guess he was taking a break from web duty.

Mount Howitt was in my sights now though as I strolled across a bit of open ground before the final uphill section.

Mount Howitt in the distance.

A short section through some trees and then onto open ground heading up to a ridge. The sky made for some nice shots as it loomed above me.

Then at last the ground began to level out. I found the turn off to the Howqua Feeder Track and with the Mount Howitt summit about 400 metres away I elected to drop the pack and enjoy a bit of freedom for a change. There's a rock cairn and flattened sign which I guess is there to indicate the turn off.

Flat sign and a large hat.

As I strolled up to the Mount Howitt summit I noticed a burnt whistle lying on the ground. I've no idea how that came about to be in the middle of the track, but I collected it for my 'odd finds whilst hiking' collection.

A bit more walking and I reached the survey marker indicating the Mount Howitt summit. At 1742 metres it's a reasonable sized mountain by Australian standards, but the main thing it has is the incredible view. On this clear morning the Crosscut Saw ridgeline was a fantastic sight, although the sun in my face made for some problematic photo opportunities. The Viking which was the destination of my intended trip was clear to see along with clouds in valleys below.

The Viking

I spent quite a lot of time on top of Mount Howitt enjoying a slight breeze which was perfect for cooling me down after the previous hours uphill climb.

So, that was it for me and it was time to collect the pack and head back down. I was at the top of the Howqua Feeder Track with my car only eight kilometres away, so I was off. I'd descended this track once before a few years ago and it's a doddle compared to any of the other spurs in the area. Initially it passes over West Peak at 1725 metres and at first it looks like the track comes to a sheer drop. That's a bit of an illusion though, as the track initially zig-zags steeply dropping height quickly, before becoming a straightforward descent.

Start of Howqua Feeder Track descent. Mt Buller in the distance.

The good part is the upper section before the trees close in and the humidity climbs. There are some nice views of Mount Magdala and Hells Window through the trees.

Mount Magdala and Hells Window

A large group of Crimson Rosellas flew about me and I reckon I took about twenty photos in order to get one good picture. Aim camera, click shutter as bird flies away was the standard fare. I haven't taken so many photos of empty branches for quite some time. I eventually captured a juvenile who stood long enough for a reasonable photo. Yeah okay, there's a branch in the way, but it was the best I could do.

Crimson Rosella

I also noticed the odd tree with large groups of caterpillars on them. I should go to Google and find out what they are, but I'm sure someone has the answer and they can tell me.

The one thing that drove me nuts on the way down though was the flies. No March flies on this occasion, but plain old bush flies that were in swarms. I think I know the reason and that's because I've never seen so much horse crap on a track for a while.  There was stacks of it with swarms of flies lifting off the ground as I approached. It's also nice when some of those flies then land on your face and lips whilst thinking about where they've been.

Howqua Feeder Track

That was really about it as the track descended into forest and I quickly made my way down to the Howqua River with only a handful of kilometres to go. The last time I was in the area the Howqua was quite sedate, but the floods of the previous year had really changed it. It appeared sections had re-routed and even the Upper Howqua camping area is not really accessible due to flood damage. I had parked outside the camp the previous evening.

I would include a photo or two of the river, but the pictures were so plain I don't think they suit displaying in this new 'massive photo' method on the blog.

How about another flattened sign instead?

The last few kilometres were flat walking and before I knew it I was back at the car and throwing that small house of a pack to the ground in joy. Remember, "I'm never taking a ton of crap out hiking ever again". I made sure I repeated that a hundred times before I drove off.

The walk is fantastic, but not in a million years could I finish it in one day. Well, I'm talking daylight as I've finished many a walk under headlamp, but that's never ideal, What's even better about the two days though is that I saw exactly no one. Hiking without anyone around is always ideal, except if one is lying on a track with a broken leg I suppose, but that's whey we carry Personal Locater Beacons (PLB) right?



The final days jaunt is detailed here from the GPS download on Garmin Connect. The distance for the day was slightly longer at 13.03 kms, but the total elevation climbed was a far more respectable 272 metres. So, that's it. Next?