An Australian pilgrimage trail in honour of St Mary MacKillop and her co-founder Fr Julian Tenison Woods.
An Australian pilgrimage trail in honour of St Mary MacKillop and her co-founder Fr Julian Tenison Woods.
Dr Jordan B. Peterson is a 56 year old professor of psychology from the University Toronto, and last night (Wednesday 13 February) it seemed to me that he was the oldest person in the Melbourne Convention Centre even though it was filled to its 5500 person capacity.
About half the crowd were the young men that legendarily flock to hear Peterson. They were a diverse mob, sporting suits and beards and tattoos and yarmulkas and even clerical collars. The other fifty percent seemed to be their mums, dads, wives, sisters, girlfriends, and so forth – but the main point is that this was a young audience (even the mums and dads). If you had this demographic turn up to mass on Sunday you would have no fears for the future of your parish. There was a sense of fraternity and trust in the air. The people were respectful, kind, friendly and happy to chat to strangers in the line up at the door. Each one had forked out $90 to come and hear someone giving a 2 hour lecture. “Entertainment” like this proves one thing: people don’t mind long sermons; they just want to hear someone worth listening to and something that makes sense to them.
And there is more than just a touch of the bush preacher about Dr Peterson. He has come proclaiming a kind of “gospel”; and even though it isn’t exactly the Christian Gospel, a fair substratum of his message is based on the biblical narrative. In fact, on his podcasts and YouTube videos Peterson regularly strays into religious territory. One of the things he is famous for is his lectures on the psychological meaning of Old Testament book of Genesis. His lecture tonight is peppered with quotations from the the Gospels. Recently he defended the validity of the religious viewpoint in a series of four 3 hour live debates with Sam Harris, one of the “four horsemen” of the New Atheism. In particular Peterson is attracted to the Christian conviction that “the Word became flesh”, and that redemption comes through suffering.
For about a year now, Peterson has been travelling the world giving sold out lectures based on his self-help manual “12 Rules for Life: an antidote to chaos”. Tonight he had just enough time to talk about rule number one: “Stand up straight with your shoulders back”. Yes, his rules all sound like that. Another one is “Set your own house in order before you criticise others” and “Always tell the truth – or at least don’t lie”. And “Don’t disturb kids when they are skateboarding”.
Peterson focuses his message on the importance and potential of the individual in a free society. He declares himself an enemy of tyranny, whether fascist or socialist, on the left or on the right. Tonight though, he had his eyes set on demolishing the postmodern doctrine of Foucault that “power is everywhere” and that all social relationships are based on power and oppression.
If that were the case, he said, our societies would not function. When power becomes the basis of relationship, societies crumble. Bullies in the playground don’t have friends. Corrupt businesses do not succeed. Instead, what works is when the relationships are built on trust and reciprocity. Yes, there are hierarchies in society, but these are based on skill and competence, not power. The successful plumber is the one who fixes your broken pipes.
It is true that the world is competitive and unequal, but we accept that some people are better at business or their profession than others, just as some are better artists, athletes, writers and musicians. Inequality doesn’t matter so long as we treat each other with dignity and live in a reciprocal relationship of trust with one another. In fact, history teaches us that it is usually when powerful forces attempt to impose their “one great idea” for a Utopian equality of outcomes that the real hell breaks loose.
Basically his message was upbeat. The human race is not going to hell in a hand basket. We are eradicating diseases, world poverty is decreasing, there have been no wars between western countries for almost 75 years. But that doesn’t mean life isn’t hard. He told the story of his father-in-law caring for his mother-in-law for 15 years as she slowly died with dementia, and how the whole family gathered around her bed in the nursing home when she finally passed away. “And because we all cared for one another and took responsibility for one another and loved one another,” he said, “it was no picnic, but it wasn’t hell.”
“It was a tragedy, but God only knows what’s inside you, this capacity to confront potential and to turn tragedy into something good. And maybe that would be the purpose of your life; not to be happy, because there are problems to be solved, but be happy after you have solved the problems.
“So I looked at dark things, and I learned that the light is more powerful than the darkness and each of us is capable of remarkable things. That’s what makes us in the image of God, that is what gives us our intrinsic value, and the idea that we have intrinsic value is the bedrock presupposition of our state. Are we gong to question that? Or are we going to live it out? Better to live it out. Thank you.”
There was still time for half an hour of Q&A (and, btw, Dr Peterson will be on ABC TV’s Q&A on February 25). One of the questions he was asked was: “With all your success, with crowds like this turning up to hear you talk for two hours each night and with 3 million copies of your book sold, what keeps you humble?”
“Well, I’m married,” he replied.
I was driving to work this morning, listening to Tim Keller speak on the topic “The Closing of the Modern Mind”, on The Veritas Forum Podcast at New York University (3 March 2018). Yesterday, at ACU, I was teaching Catholic Social Thought to first year students, and explaining the idea of the innate dignity of every human being. I had to point out that this Judeo-Christian idea was based in the belief that a divine, personal Creator had made human beings in his own image. If you are not religious, I suggested, you might want to ask yourself why you believe that human beings have equal dignity, and why they are worth more than (for eg.) rats.
So I had to pull over and stop and listen when I heard Tim Keller ask the question: ‘Why should we believe in Human Rights?’. And I spent the next half hour transcribing what he said. I could just have bought the book he was quoting from (Alan Dershowitz (2002). Shouting fire : civil liberties in a turbulent age. Boston : Little, Brown & Co.] but according to Amazon that costs over $100 and is only available in hardback. So here is the transcript of Keller summarising Dershowitz. It makes astonishing and thought provoking reading.
“It is wrong always, everywhere, and for anyone to believe anything on insufficient evidence.” W.K. Clifford, The Ethics of Belief (1877)
His point was that you should never believe anything unless you have empirical evidence for it. And the trouble with religion is that as soon as you make religious claims, there’s no way to prove those things, so they’re best kept out of the public square.
There is probably not an epistemology course in the country [the U.S.] taught by any philosophy professor in any accredited university that would actually give you that thing to read and say “That’s my view”, because it’s pretty widely understood now that most of the things we hold dear – most the things we believe, most of the things that we believe that mean the most to us – could not be empirically proven.
I’ll give you one example: Human Rights.
Alan Dershowitz in his book “Shouting fire” asks this question: What if you come to a country which says ‘Why should we believe in Human Rights?’ And if you don’t just want to say ‘because I feel Human Rights are good things’, if you want to say something more powerful than that, what do you say?
Well, there are only four things to say.
One is you can do what Martin Luther King said, which is all human beings have inherent equal human dignity because they are made in the image of God. Now, Dershowitz says that for him, he is an atheist, so he just can’t go there, so he can’t say that.
He says the second thing you’d say is, well, Human Rights are natural, you can say you see them in nature. He says the problem with that is if you actually look at nature it is kind of violent. The strong eat the weak and that kind of thing. So it’s a little hard to get the idea of inherent dignity of every human being from nature.
He says the third thing you could say is that we create Human Rights, we just get together and we legislate them. He says the problem with that is if Human Rights are the creation of the majority, then they’re useless, because the whole point of a Human Right is to take the right of a minority and put it in the face of the majority and say ‘You have to honour rights of my people’ or ‘my client’. If they are created then they can be uncreated, and that means they’re useless.
So he says, what is it and what do you say?
Here’s what you have to say: We just know they’re there. Human Rights are discovered, not created. They have to be there otherwise they are useless. Why are they there (and they are)? We don’t know, but they are.
And when Dershowitz says ‘I know that if somebody comes to me and says ‘That is just what you white, western, individualistic people say’, well, that’s a problem, but I just know that this isn’t something from my culture, they [Human Rights] are just there. And then he says, ultimately, most of the human race now believes that they are there and that’s why we know they are there.
But the real problem, of course, is as he said: Is it is really true that what the majority of human beings think is right is necessarily right? No!
So in the end, can he prove Human Rights? Can you empirically prove them?
No. It’s a faith leap. It is a leap of faith. It is an assumption. There’s as much evidence for human rights as there is for God. (In fact, I think there is probably more evidence for God than for Human Rights.) But that’s another lecture.
The point of the matter is that they are both non-provable empirically, and they’re not self evident and therefore we are ALL bringing non-provable beliefs – more intuitions and convictions – into the Public Square, and we ought to let them come and let everyone talk about it.
We rose early on Saturday morning as Fr Michael had invited us to join him in celebrating mass at 7:30am in the Milton Church. It was just the four of us, and we incorporated Morning Prayer in the service. Fr Michael celebrated the mass in a peaceful way and invited us to join in the reflections on the readings and in praying at the point where we would normally have the prayers of the faithful.
He actually gave us a little bit of admonition about the way we talked about our journey to others – to have the humility to remember that many of the people with whom we are so excitedly sharing the joys and hardships of pilgrimage don’t have the time or financial freedom to be able to undertake such a venture. This was fair enough – although pilgrimage does not have to be on the scale that Josh, Sean and I are doing it, just as you don’t have to take two months long service leave to go to Santiago in Spain. If a person has the determination and devotion to undertake some kind of pilgrimage, God will, I believe, give the opportunity. I’ve done all sorts of pilgrimages: I’ve flown to St Peter’s in Rome, and flown and bussed to Jerusalem. I’ve walked a week pilgrimage to Penola from Portland with the supported Aussie Camino, and I’ve done one-day walks on foot from my parish Church in Boronia to our St Patrick’s Cathedral in Melbourne. Heck, just going from your front door to your parish church can become a pilgrimage if you undertake it in the right spirit!
But I had a realisation of my own during the mass. In the prayers, Fr Michael prayed for us to have courage to complete our journey – and I suddenly realised that what I really needed here and now was not the courage to continue the walk but the courage to return home and face my daily life and work again. Don’t get me wrong – I dearly love my family and my job at the Archdiocese – but there are so many many things in daily life that demand one’s attention and which can become sources of anxiety and fear, that I know I will truly miss the simplicity of the straightforward challenge of walking 30km each day. That, more than anything else, is the real attraction for me in pilgrimage: the simplicity of it all. At this point, I might just throw in a book recommendation – in fact, I think I have already mentioned it in my report of the first day of this section: “The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry” by Rachel Joyce (2012). It is a novel about a man who undertakes a walk from one end of England to the other to “save” a friend dying of cancer. At one point on his walk, Harold muses on the the “simplicity of it all”. And he is right: if you keep putting one foot in front of the other, you will get there. As Michael Leunig added in one of his cartoons, you might want to sit down and have a little rest every now and again, but just keep on heading toward the horizon. “That’s how you get there.” I am glad that our return journey will take a full two days. I need the time to process my return.
That was made somewhat easier by the fact that our whole journey today was literally going backwards, including the strange case of the only 7kms on this pilgrimage that we have covered in the wrong direction: from Milton back to Ulladulla. The issue here was that the distance from Ulladulla to the next port of call along the road past Milton at the start of next year’s journey would simply have been too far to walk in one day, but it would be manageable if we knocked off the distance between Milton and Ulladulla this year before going home. As Josh had to be at the bus stop across from the Marlin Hotel in Ulladulla at 11am to catch the coach to Sydney, we all resolved to walk the distance back to Ulladulla with him.
Time was a bit short when we set off, so there was no stopping for sight-seeing in Milton, which is a pleasant village and one in which I would like to spend a bit more time. We walked straight past the Milton bakery and their famous pies, although the smell was tantalising. Spurring us on was the fact that it had begun to rain, not heavily, but steadily. At first we thought it might just be a passing shower, and so didn’t put on all our wet weather gear, and by the time that it was obvious that it was not going to stop, our trousers were wet through. So we pushed on, keeping a good speed so as not to spend longer in the rain than necessary, trying to avoid the running streams of water on the side of the road to keep our shoes dry. This was a hopeless cause. After an hour in the rain my shoes were full of water and the rain was dripping off my new Central Tilba hat. (I am happy to report that the hat suffered no damage from getting so wet – a benefit of having been made of polyester rather than natural fibres that would have lost their shape.) This was one section of the Princes Highway in which the verge is fairly wide, but despite being almost entirely built up all the way from Milton to Ulladulla, with homes and businesses either side of the road, there was no footpath upon which to walk until we got right into Ulladulla itself.
We came down the road past the Church, and straight into the arcade where the public toilets were situated. Josh went in to change into dry clothes from his back pack, while I waited outside for Sean to catch up. Out of the rain, my hiking trousers began to dry out, but my shoes and socks were clearly going to stay very wet. We accompanied Josh out to the bus stop, and before very long the coach had arrived. As it was still raining, we said our farewells, and he got on the bus. He was sitting on the other side out of our view, so we didn’t hang around in the rain, but went back under shelter as the bus left.
I had a plan in mind, and as Sean went across the road to a cafe overlooking the bay for his morning double shot of coffee, I nipped across to the Vinnies op shop next to the church. I was in luck: a pair of slip on shoes for $4 (almost brand new) and a pair of socks for $1 (brand new) in my size. I put them both on immediately after purchasing them, and put my wet shoes and socks in a plastic bag and into my pack. Feeling like a new man, I returned to Sean at the cafe where we had a pot of tea and some eggs on toast. Now with warm food in my tummy and dry shoes and socks on my feet, we crossed through the rain back to the public library on the other side of the road. Here was a warm, dry place with comfortable lounge chairs and electric sockets to recharge my phone and iPad. Sean read the newspaper while I worked on my blog until it was time for us to catch our own bus to Eden. It was still raining, but we had dried out more or less. The bus was a little late, arriving just before we were due to leave at 2:20pm, and we were glad to get on and to settle down for the journey.
There is nothing much to tell about the ride, except that we stopped in Batemans Bay to grab something to call “lunch”. Nothing much was open, which surprised me, as it was a Saturday and still the last weekend of the school holidays, but we did manage to get a pie at a nearby ice cream shop. It tasted okay, but I later on I began to feel quite ill. I thought at first it was just motion sickness from the bus, but I think it was this pie that did it. I was a bit off colour for the next 24 hours. The ride on the bus was not smooth – the road was windy and up and down, especially from the highway through to Tilba and down to Bermagui and across to Bega.
We arrived at Eden at about 7:15pm, and Mike Sheppard was there to meet us. It was a bit of a homecoming to arrive back at Mike and Judy’s. They had invited the two local Josephite sisters, Sr Brigid and Sr Bernadette, to join us for dinner. It was really nice to spend the time with our hosts and their guests in this comparatively quiet dinner. We reviewed many stories about our pilgrimage and heard many other stories from the sisters. Sr Brigid had grown up in Eden, and Sr Bernadette in Sydney near St Mary’s tomb. It was not a late night – we were tired, and the sisters were going to come and pick us up early in the morning to take us to mass at Pambula, so we said our good nights and headed to bed.
We were up in the morning early again – it would take me over a week after getting home before I was actually sleeping through the night till dawn. The sisters arrived to pick us up and drove us to St Peter’s Pambula for the 8am mass. The service was taken by the parish priest, a Samoan, and accompanied by guitars and good singing from those who attended. We enjoyed talking to the parishioners afterwards and letting them know about our journey. We caught up again with Dr John Liston with whom we had met when we came through two weeks earlier, and with another experienced pilgrim of the Spanish Camino. He and Sean had much to talk about. The sisters drove us back to Eden, all the while pointing out to us local features and places on the side of the road. They drove us down to the bay in Eden to see the memorials to the various ships that had been a part of Eden’s history, including the ship that St Mary’s mother was on when it met its end.
They dropped us back at the Sheppard’s, and we had time for a cup of tea before having to be back at the bus stop and getting on the 11am bus for Melbourne. I cannot express how thankful we are for the help that Mike and Judy and the people of Eden have given us – it has been a great base for us over the last two legs of the pilgrimage. We may return again next year, depending on how our travel plans work out to get back to Ulladulla, and Mike said we would be welcome.
So now began the long journey back through Gippsland to Melbourne. Going through the “bushy end” of Victoria along the Princes Highway we once again were convinced that we could never have walked this way from Orbost. Although it was difficult making the arrangements to get from Orbost to Eden via Bombala, it was definitely the right way to go, and gave us a much richer – and safer – experience than we would have had had we travelled along the Princes Highway. We stopped in Cann River for a food stop again – Sean was looking forward to visiting the cafe we had visited on the way through two weeks ago. For the past fortnight Josh had been ribbing Sean about a rack of novelty glove puppets that were displayed for sale in the store under a sign which said “Don’t touch the puppets”. Of course, Sean *had* touched the puppets… To pay homage to this jocularity, Sean was looking forward to buying one of the puppets on our return journey just so I could then photograph him handling a puppet next to the sign which explicitly forbade this behaviour. Unfortunately our fun was spoiled by the fact that the sign against puppet contact had been removed. In disgust we went to the cafe across the road and had our coffee there.
There was time to wander about the town a little. Sadly, the rather magnificent Cann River pub is closed – it would have been nice to have had the last beer of the pilgrimage there. But the church was open, and that was a good consolation prize. (Readers of this journal will note that in the tradition of medieval pilgrims taverns and churches have had an equally major role to play in our travels.) St John’s is an Anglican Church, but it serves as a joint Anglican-Uniting congregation. With the autumn leaves, the dark brown wooden walls and red roof of the church made it look like something from a 19th Century American New England landscape.
Back on the bus and now heading to Orbost and then to Bairnsdale. Normally we would have changed onto the train at this point, but as with the last time we travelled home this way at the end of our first leg in Easter 2016, the bus took us all the way to the station at Sale where we boarded the train. On the bus, I had heard the man behind me having a phone conversation with a friend in Caulfield arranging his visit. I vaguely wondered to myself whether the man was Jewish (Caulfield being a popular Jewish area in Melbourne) but thought nothing more of it. But Sean began a conversation with him at th Station at Sale and discovered that he was from Western Australia and had been to the Mimosa Rocks National park (we had walked through this on our trip) for a Buddhist guided walking meditation retreat. And yes, he was, at least by birth, Jewish, although he was not religious and did not keep kosher. So we ended up spending the rest of the journey to Melbourne sitting with Basil, as was his name, and talking of our various experiences related to walking, spirituality and the environment (he was a professional activist and promoter of environmentalism). As he was spending a few days in Melbourne, I extended an invitation to him to come and visit me in the following week at my office for a cup of tea and a tour of the Cathedral – which he did, together with Sean, the next Wednesday.
So the time went very quickly, and before we knew it the train was pulling out of Packenham and heading to Dandenong where I was to disembark and be picked up by Cathy. The final parting of the ways for the pilgrims came, and I said a rushed and awkward goodbye to Sean (he managed to hit his head on the rack above his seat – a change, because to this point of the journey it had been me hitting my head on things) and I found myself out on the platform on a cold Melbourne evening waving them off. Cathy arrived soon afterwards and it was a short 20min ride and I was back home.
So there it is. It took me about a week to settle back into the office. Strangely, it was only after this first week back that I started dreaming of the pilgrimage. And also it is now, in the second week since our return, that my body has begun to feel really physically tired. But my thoughts are constantly returning to our journey, and to our plans for the future.
Saturday Morning statistics
Planned distance: 7km
Measured distance by actual route (Gaia maps recording): 7.36km
Distance by iPhone Health data: 9.6km
Steps by iPhone Health data: 12,319 steps
“Flights climbed” by iPhone Health data: 9 floors (some of these were real stairs at our accommodation!)
Up and Down (Gaia maps recording): 7m (-81m) – note that if doing this in the right direction it would involve a steady climb upwards.
Highest altitude: Milton Church 95 metres.
Beach walking? No
Highway walking? Yes, all the way
Hours on the road: 1 hr 20 minutes
Distance covered from Eden: 307.28km
Distance covered from Fitzroy: 997.28km
Dear visitors to this blog,
I am currently updating my entries on the MacKillop-Woods Way Pilgrimage. I have one more posting to do to complete the account of the most recent leg of our journey, from Eden to Milton/Ulladulla in NSW. For those who have visited in the past, I have updated the last dozen entries or so with maps, pictures and statistics from the journey. I have yet to update the general entry linked on the page above. Please explore the posts and entries on this project so far – if you have any questions, please submit a comment below. We plan to head off again to complete our +1250km pilgrimage from St Mary’s birthplace to her tomb in Holy Week and Easter Week 2019.
We were up and packed and showered and breakfasted and on our way by 8am. There was a large kangaroo looking back at me through the cabin window as I was having my morning cup of tea. I had taken a short walk down to Kioloa Beach, and cannot say that I was very impressed. Josh would say “One beach looks just like another after a while anyway”. There is an old store opposite the caravan park, but it looked very closed and may not have been operating for some time. We started off walking on roadside north of the town for a stretch, but the traffic was light and there was a good verge, so this was quite pleasant. A concrete path began about 4km down the road, just before we reached Bawley Point. It was still in the process of being constructed, so maybe the plan is for it to go all the way to Kioloa, which would make this stretch very easy.
We stopped for coffee at the Bawley Takeaway. Just as we were putting on our packs on again, a woman came up to us an asked if we had walked the Camino. She had spotted the shells on our packs and was eager to tell us that she and her husband were about to do the Santiago pilgrimage in three weeks time. Sean is, of course, the only one of the three of us who had done the Spanish Camino, so he was able to converse intelligently on this subject with her. But we also told her what we were doing. I asked if she was a Catholic, and she replied that she was. She said she had attended a “home mass” celebrated by Fr Michael from the Milton parish at Bawley Point recently. Later we were to find out that these “home masses” were a part of the priest’s plan for reaching out to lapsed Catholics in the remoter regions of his parish. There is another, more “trendy” cafe not far up the road, called the Bawley Beach Cafe, at which we just bought some water so that we could use the toilets. This would have perhaps been the better place to stop for coffee, but if we had, we would not have met Larissa.
Just as we were exiting the Bawley Point settlement and heading out onto the beach, we passed a house that had a most unusual garden ornament: a five foot high model of a church or chapel. There was no inscription to indicate what it was supposed to signify – maybe it was a building of some significance to the owners of the property. In any case, Josh decided that as this was the first church we had come across today, we may as well say our prayers there. So we sang Regina Coeli and the Our Father from the other side of the fence.
A short bit of bush walking brought us onto the beach for the first time that day at Reedy Creek. In deference to Josh’s preference for avoiding precipitous cliffs, we didn’t take the loop track onto Nuggan Point, although I would have liked to have seen the views. Just before we got to the mouth of the Creek, I saw a small pile of what looked to be pale smooth pebbles on the path, but on closer inspection turned out to be seeds. They appeared to have come out of a red fleshy pod, but I couldn’t see any trees around from which they may have fallen. Perhaps a bird – eg. a large cockatoo or something – had carried them there. I didn’t recognise the plant at all, so I souvenired one of the seeds to bring home to see what it might grow into… Like all the other creeks and inlets we had planned to cross on this trip, the mouth of Reedy Creek was also “closed”, that is, you could cross on the sand bar between the two heads. However, an added complication at this point is that the track ended in a dead end over the water. It appears as if the last part of the sandy head over which the trail had once led had collapsed. We made our way down the rather steep sandy bank, trying neither to slip or fall over with our packs on our backs, and made it onto the beach without having to retrace our steps to the last pathway. After crossing the mouth, there was another bit of bush walking over Meroo Head to Meroo Beach. There is a very nice campground at Meroo Beach – it would be a pleasant place to return to at some time in the future. We walked on the seashore here for about 1.5kms to Termeil Lake. This was our last bit of beach walking for this year’s journey and will possibly be the last bit that we have to do on the entire pilgrimage (although we will be walking along the coast next year quite often). After our first lengthy walk on the beach from Lawlers Creek north of Narooma on our way to Bodalla, we were glad to see the last of it. It has been very hard on our feet and lower leg muscles. To celebrate , Josh broke open the last bottle of the Ahornberger Landbier left over from last night. In the absence of cups, we all took a swig from the bottle.
Now it was just a short walk up to the campground and then on the road and track that lead into civilisation again through the back of the Lake Tabourie community and out onto the Princes Highway again. We stopped for lunch at the Tabourie Tuckerbox on the Highway, but despite the advertising, we were informed that the kitchen was closed – Josh couldn’t even get a milkshake. They other two bought the pies and sausage rolls in the warmer. They didn’t look very appetising to me, so I just had the prepackaged sandwiches. These were okay, but the bread was drying out a bit. The date on the package was yesterday – and Sean surmised that perhaps the date was not the day the sandwiches were made on but their use-by date. He may have been right. While having lunch, I rang the Premier Motor Service bus company and booked tickets for Sean and I to return to Eden next day. It cost $75 for the two of us, but his was a concession, so I am guessing the full price was probably $40-$50.
From here we continued to walk towards Ulladulla on the Princes Highway. We passed some holiday homes facing directly onto the Highway, in what I would have found to be very unpleasant circumstances, but their backs faced onto the Tabourie Creek, which was, I suppose, the attraction. With the trucks and cars roaring past us as we walked on the footpath, I passed one fellow digging in his front garden. “Ah, the serenity!” I said to him – and he had the good grace to laugh.
After crossing the bridge over Tabourie Creek, we found that there was a good stone track running all the way along the highway about fifty metres to the right. This seemed to be a service track for an underground power line, and it provided us with easy smooth walking out of the way of the traffic all the way to the Stony Creek crossing. From there we were following the footpath into Ulladulla. I rang ahead to Therese who was meeting us at the Holy Family Catholic Church that it was our plan first to visit the Post Office and then to call into the local pub, the Marlin Hotel before coming to the Church. She quite understood and said they would be waiting for us at 5pm. The folk at the Post Office were very friendly and got out their special picture postage stamp (“We hardly ever use it!”) to stamp our passports. The pub was very ordinary and neither particularly comfortable nor with very good beer on tap (I think we had Fat Yak again), and the patrons looked at us with a good deal of suspicion.
Around at the Church we were warmly welcomed by Therese and Greg. They opened the Church up for us, so that we could say our final prayers of thanksgiving and completion of the journey there. Then we all bundled into their four-wheel drive for the ride out to the Milton Church where we were to have tea and spend the night. The food was in the back and smelled delicious. As we were driving up the highway on this 7km section of road, they were pointing out that we would have no difficulty walking on the side of the road coming back tomorrow, as the verge was very wide in most places. The sun was setting as we arrived at St Mary Star of the Sea Church on the hill on the other side of Milton. This pretty little church is beautifully located with the scenic backdrop of the green rolling countryside. Greg told us that it had all once been rainforest before the settlers came. There is a bell tower next to the Church and a “poustinia” out the back also – which Greg said is offered to homeless people as they come through the town. Inside the open church, the sanctuary lamp was all that lit up the interior.
We were shown into the “Parish House” which used to be the presbytery in the old days. The priest, Fr Michael Dyer, now lives in the old Josephite convent next to the Parish House. The parish house not only had the secretaries office and the kitchen and meeting rooms, but several bedrooms. Sean and I shared a room and gave the other to Josh. The guests for the evening meal were beginning to arrive, but we wanted to shower and make ourselves a bit respectable first. When we came out, we found that Greg and Therese had been joined by Michele, Deidre, Dianne and her husband Tony. Fr Michael came in soon afterwards. We had an enjoyable meal together, followed by conversation on both the themes of pilgrimage and ecumenism (given my role at the Archdiocese of Melbourne). We kept the night short, however, firstly because we were tired, and secondly because Fr Michael invited the three of us to join him for mass early in the morning before he set off about his parish visitations. The invitation to return next year when we recommence our journey was extended and kindly accepted. We closed the evening in prayer and with a blessing from Michael before heading to bed.
Planned distance: 28.91km
Measured distance by actual route (Gaia maps recording): 29.15km
Distance by iPhone Health data: 29.5km
Steps by iPhone Health data: 38,178 steps
“Flights climbed” by iPhone Health data: 22 floors
Up and Down: 204m (-185m)
Highest altitude: 56m
Beach walking? Yes
Highway walking? Yes (but with side track)
Hours on the road: 9 hours
Distance covered from Eden: 299.92km
Distance covered from Fitzroy: 989.92km
The pictures for today can be viewed here on Google Photos, and here are the maps:
This morning Eileen drove Sean and me up to the Princes Highway to the point we reached on yesterday’s stroll so that we could recommence our pilgrimage from the same point. Our plan for the day was was to head towards Pebbly Beach, and from there walk over Durras Mountain to Pretty Beach and Kioloa. There are ways that you could do this that would avoid the Princes Highway, coming up along the coast, but they depend upon the mouth of Durras Lake being closed – and we were not sure if that was the case or not. We could easily have found out by calling the local National Parks office, but another consideration was distance and terrain – just about any alternative would have been longer and more difficult. So it was back on the A1 again until we reached Mount Agony Road.
There is more verge on the Highway here than there was further south, but it was still fairly difficult. We kept looking for alternative side roads, and found one detour which went along the power lines for about 1.5km from the Liberty Roadhouse almost to the Enhance petrol station. To get to this, you take a right hand turn down a private road (it says “no entry”, but we inquired of one of the locals and he said there was no problem with us walking along it). After a while this track leads into the national park. This was fine too, but it meandered a bit to avoid some pretty big hills and at one point it led back onto the Highway such that we had to bush-bash for about 50m through scrub to get back to the power line track.
Of the two petrol stations, the Liberty one is the largest and has toilets and food, but we also stopped at the Enhance, which is pretty much a glorified bottle shop with some basic groceries, pies and sausage rolls and drinks for sale. They let us refill our water from the rain water tank out the back.
Durras Drive is just past the Enhance Petrol Station, and from this point on, the power line is on private property, so it was back onto the Princes Highway for us. About 1.5km down the road we came to the boundary between Eurobodalla Shire and the Shire of Shoalhaven, making this the third shire we have travelled through on this trip (the first one being Bega Shire). I wondered too if this was the border between the Archdiocese of Canberra-Goulburn and the Wollongong Diocese. I know that Kioloa is in Wollongong, so I expect that the border is somewhere here. That means we entered our fourth diocese on the pilgrimage (the other two being Melbourne and Sale).
Just as we got to the Mount Agony Road turnoff, Eileen pulled up with Josh on their way to Kioloa. Josh had decided to make this another rest day, and we are glad he did as it went through some heavily forested areas and had some climbs and descents that were very high and steep. Eileen was happy to drive him around to the Kioloa Beach Holiday Park and check into our cabin there. They were also carrying about 50% of our luggage, so our back packs for the day were much lighter. My shoulders still ached dreadfully, however, and I think I might investigate getting a new backpack sometime before the next section of the pilgrimage. This one has served me well – I bought it for $5 at a Salvos store – so I can’t complain for value, but I’d like to get a lighter and more comfortable pack.
After Eileen and Josh drove off, Sean and I turned right onto Mount Agony Road. The name makes this road sound dreadful, but in fact was a blessed relief after the Highway. (Apparently it was named for the agony suffered by bullock drays along this road in the old days.) There was still a fair amount of traffic, but most of it was heading for North Durras and Depot Beach, which are both south of Pebbly Beach and to which there is a turn off about two thirds of the way towards the coast, after which the traffic was more than halved. There was very little verge on this road, but it didn’t matter, as the traffic was sparse enough generally to allow us to walk on the right hand side of the road and to get off when there was oncoming traffic. The surrounding bushland here is incredibly lush. There are vines growing up the gum trees, and a tall species of palm tree with wide fan-like branches, and tree ferns everywhere. The birds are plentiful and were making quite a racket. About a quarter of the way in, the Durras Lake Walking Trail heads off to the south/right, and follows the Lake all the way down to the little Durras Lake settlement. It would be very pleasant to do this one day.
Mount Agony Road ends in what looks like a Y-Junction, with a gravel road going off on the left and the sealed road continuing off to the right. In fact, at this point the Mount Agony Road simply runs into the point of a very sharp turn on the Pebbly Beach Road. The sealed road to the right leads down to Pebbly Beach itself while the gravel road to the left leads around and (eventually) back to the Highway. I would have liked to have taken the right hand turn all the way to the bottom to Pebbly Beach itself as I had been told by locals that it is very scenic with kangaroos on the beach etc. and from the map the distance that way was no further around than taking the left hand route. Sean pointed out however that if we took that road we would descend 100m and then have to make up that 100m when we climbed back up Durras Mountain Coast Walking Track to the Old Coast Road – and that even before attempting the climb to the top of Durras Mountain itself. Unfortunately pilgrims – at least the type that are dependent on their own feet for transportation and their own backs for carrying their gear – can’t always be tourists. (Although there is an interesting historical relationship between tourism and pilgrimage – a musing that will have to wait for another time…)
So we took the left turn on the gravel section of Pebbly Beach Road, intending to turn back on the right into Old Coast Road when we came to it. Actually, the first right hand turn we came to, with a sign pointing to Kioloa, was Higgins Creek Road. That wasn’t right – yes, it would have led to Kioloa Beach but it was a main road, was further than we had planned and didn’t take us up onto the Mountain. So we doubled back and, with the help of my electronic maps and compass on my iPhone, found where the entrance to the Old Coast Road should have been. We found it, concealed and unmarked, leading sharply back the way we had come and steeply uphill. Although it was a vehicular track, it didn’t look like it was used very much. In fact I would not much like to try it with anything vehicular at all, as it was dangerously steep and covered in leaves that made it slippery for our shoes, let alone for car tyres. At the bottom of the track there were metal barriers to stop vehicles descending the track driving straight over the edge onto the other road below. These were bent out of shape in such a way as to indicate they had come in handy at least once in the past…
Climbing up the Old Coast Drive, we ascended from 110m above sea level to 270m at the top, over a distance of about one kilometre. It was strenuous work, which made me glad to have only a half-full pack. At the top the trail levels off and follows the ridge of Durras Mountain. The gumtree forest also gives way to lower and more varied vegetation, and the leaf-strewn rocky trail becomes what looks for all the world like mowed lawn path (although I can’t imagine them getting a lawn mower up that hill). In fact the whole surrounding area has the appearance of an overgrown garden. On the right hand side (East) were views of the ocean, from which a nice cool breeze was blowing; on the left hand side were views of the distant mountains. An old “trig point” greatly interested Sean. There is a cement water tank up there too, colourfully painted on one side, indicating that perhaps this was a spot with some civilisation at some point in the past. (Nb: the tank does not provide drinking water). There are also picnic tables on the summit, and so, having in fact brought a picnic with me from Eileen’s place, I sat down and ate my remaining sandwich and apple.
At this point we were back in reception and a text came through from Josh saying he was at Kioloa and had settled into the cabin and was exploring the town. He wanted to know where we were, and I replied “I think we have found the garden of Eden.” Have a look at the pictures to get some idea of what I meant – although these iphone photos don’t really do justice to the reality.
The rest of the walk was a stroll in the park for the main part. Josh said he would wait for us at Pretty Beach, and that from his vantage point the path “looked very steep”. Yet we were still ambling along with small ups and downs in a gentle decent. Fairly abruptly, the “garden” came to an end and the gumtrees returned as the dominant vegetation. When we were about a kilometre from Pretty Beach, and still going along on a fairly level path, I stopped to check our bearings. It turned out that we had missed the turn off to Pretty Beach about 750m back along the Old Coast Road. We debated what to do as we could have continued onto Dangerboard Road (doesn’t that sound fun?) and into the back of Kioloa that way (which, given the condition of the track, might be easiest for future pilgrims), but we decided to go back because Josh was waiting for us in Pretty Beach, and we had no phone reception to tell him we were altering our route. Again we found that the turn off down to the Beach was concealed and poorly signed. The little sign that was there would have been visible to people coming up the mountain but not to those coming down it, and the track was thickly covered with leaves making it almost indistinguishable from the rest of the forest floor.
Once we were on it, however, we recognised it as Josh’s “very steep” track. It reminded me of some of the downhill slopes on the Kangarutha trail to Tathra – quick rocky in places with a descent of 100m or more over about 600m. I was glad to reach the bottom, and sat down to rest to wait for Sean to catch up. As I waited, a bloke in jogging gear came up to the start of the trail putting his earphones on. “Is that your evening jog?”, I asked. “Yep”, he said, and set off up the path I had just come down. Each to his own, I guess.
Pretty Beach is a… well, pretty beach, and a popular campsite. Josh was nowhere to be seen, so Sean and I wandered about looking for him. We found our way to the beach, from which we had a good view of the mountain we had just climbed and the coastline back south. In fact, as Sean pointed out, we could just see Mount Dromedary faintly outlined in the very distant south. And we thought we had seen the last of it! Funny to think we had travelled all that way in five days of walking. The sun was setting and as is usual at this time, the kangaroos were coming out. They were plentiful and not at all fussed by the humans wandering past. Still no Josh. And still no phone reception, so I wasn’t quite sure what to do. I decided we would split up and sent Sean off in one direction around the camp and I set off around the other. That was a good idea, as Josh had been wandering around the circular path looking for us too and we would have kept going around in circles otherwise – we met him at the entrance to the Camp.
Josh led us back through the growing darkness toward Merry Beach, where there was a small grocery shop (kitted out with enough stuff to buy supplies if you wanted to make your own meal in your cabin) and a rather expensive restaurant. Josh decided he didn’t want to cook and would subsidise our expenses if we found the restaurant too pricey. Aside from the waiter acting more camp than all the rows of tents down at Pretty Beach, the restaurant was a good experience and worth the extra cost. It had an excellent range of bottled beers (none on tap) and a good menu. The other two had the salmon risotto, but I chose the prawn and chorizo linguini – which was flavoured with garlic and chilli and covered in lashings of shaved parmesan cheese. It was solid stodge, and just what my body needed. I was tempted to order the $38 lamb shanks, to see if they could have outdone the Bodalla Arms $20 special. I also would have had a glass of red wine with the meal, but since Josh had purchased three 500ml bottles of German beer which he had waiting for us back at the cabin, we left it at that and paid the bill. $166 for the three of us (including the $9 beers). Yikes.
We walked the remaining 500m to the Kioloa Beach Holiday Park and Josh showed us to our cabin. There were quite a few other people in the cabins nearby barbecuing their dinners and making a fair bit of noise. Showers were first on the agenda when we got in. Josh had made a comment about the sign on the taps saying that only the cold water in the kitchen was drinkable, and that all the rest of the water was from the dam. This was self-evident when I filled the shallow shower-bath with water to soak in: it was very brown and smelled strongly of clay mud. Ablutions were followed by sharing the rather sweet malty beers that Josh had bought. We only drank half of it though, and were all so tired we were ready for bed practically straight away. There was no internet, so I couldn’t upload the day’s pictures or do any direct work on the blog. We had to make our own beds, and, as it was a family cabin, Sean and I shared the bunk room while Josh slept in the queen bed in the other room. The bunks were not full sized beds, and the mattresses were fairly thin foam, so it wasn’t the most comfortable night I had spent on the trip. Nevertheless, I slept fairly soundly.
Today was one of the longest days in terms of distance so far and also the second hardest day in terms of elevation climbed – 93 “floors” according to my iPhone health app (compared to 176 on the day to Tathra and 78 on the first day to Nethercote).
Planned distance: 29km
Measured distance by actual route (Gaia maps recording): 31.83km
Distance by iPhone Health data: 33km
Steps by iPhone Health data: 40,615 steps
“Flights climbed” by iPhone Health data: 93 floors
Up and Down: 466m (-473m)
Highest altitude: 297m
Beach walking? No
Highway walking? Yes
Hours on the road: 9 hours
Distance covered from Eden: 270.77km
Distance covered from Fitzroy: 960.77
Here are the pictures for the day on Google Photos and here are the maps:
After a very restful night at Eileen’s home, I woke around 7am. Our plans were that we would leave at 8:55 for Mass, so I had about two hours to organise myself, shower, have breakfast, edit photos etc. Josh and Sean also took a more leisurely approach to the start of the day. Having a whole kitchen to ourselves, we organised our own breakfast, and met Eileen as planned. She drove us into town, once again pointing out the many attractions. We were planning to walk back to her home in Surfside after Mass, so she pointed out the way we would need to take. The main street was closed off for the ANZAC march, but otherwise we saw that we would have a pleasant stroll through the town.
It was a true pleasure to be able to join the parishioners at mass at St Bernard’s today. It isn’t often when we are on pilgrimage that our schedule and the local mass timetable coincide. Thinking back over the years that we have been walking, we made it to mass in Warragul, Moe, Traralgon, Bairnsdale, Bombala (which wasn’t a mass, but a Sunday liturgy of the word at which I preached), Eden, Narooma and today in Batehaven. So it is a special grace to be able to join a local community in their liturgical celebrations as we are passing through.
This morning’s liturgy was, of course, requiem mass with its own propers for ANZAC day (the priest wore violet), St Mark’s day being transferred to tomorrow in Australia. Fr Martins Aloga, a Nigerian priest, has been Parish Priest here for 10 months, and was conscientiously trying to address a national celebration of which he must have had limited experience. For what it is worth, he did well, and celebrated mass devoutly. After mass, we met Sr Carmel, one of two sister Carmels in the parish (!!) both of whom are Josephites. We had our picture taken with Fr Martins, Sr Carmel, Eileen and Rebecca (the parish secretary who did so much to help organise our stay here), and Fr Martins gave us his blessing. Rebecca stamped our Pilgrim Passes with the parish stamp, and then we were ready to head off on today’s shortened itinerary.
We set off down the road to the shoreline, and followed the path through Batehaven to Batemans Bay. It was marvellous not having our backpacks or our sticks with us. Again, as for the last week and a half, the sun was shining with a nice sea breeze and a temperature in the low twenties. We stopped at an unusual coffee shop that specialised in icecream and bagels. I could not choose whether to have the coffee or the icecream, so I had an affogato (which was both, with a biscuit added, and cheaper than having both).
We then headed into Batemans Bay, and Josh thought it would be fitting if we stopped for a beer at the RSL club. We figured that that was what the “Soldiers Club” was, and that did seem to be where the main ANZAC function was being held (given all the uniforms about), so we went in and found something like the RACV club in Melbourne: it was a mini shopping centre! Upstairs the bar and restaurant area was enormous, and looked out to nice views of the Clyde River. We ordered our beers – I had a very nice IPA made in Canberra by the Bentspoke brewery. Then Josh announced his intention to have lunch here – which I had not intended as there was plenty laid on by our hostess back in Surfside. However, they did a special on Beef and Bean Soup for $6.50, and that was cheaper than our beer, so I went with it. And I am very glad I did, as it was one of the heartiest and tastiest soups I have had in ages.
Finally back on the road again, we wandered down the main wharf to the bridge. At this point we decided that rather than take the Princes Highway route (spit, choke) we would go around the Wharf Road on the north side of the Clyde to Karoola Crescent and then up to Outlook Drive. This was longer, but very pleasant. Given how busy it is on the south side of the river, it is surprisingly quiet on the north side. We arrived back at Eileen’s home at half past two. We did our washing and I began writing up my blog while Sean had a nap. I had intended to spend time getting our finances all worked out, but it took me so long to finish the account of yesterday (and for some reason I can’t get pictures to upload to the blog, so there are no maps for today or yesterday), that not much got done in that department.
We had dinner with Eileen at 6:30pm – “Dinner is served!” came over a loud speaker calling us upstairs!! A lovely roast chicken dinner with a 2008 Chardonnay and again a lively conversation about life and family. Josh is planning not to do tomorrow’s walk which goes through some fairly remote areas. Instead, Eileen will drive him to Kioloa ahead of us, and he will take much of our extra luggage so our backpacks are lighter. It will be a hard day for Sean and me – we have been arguing about the route, but are now settled on the way. There will be major patches without phone reception, so we don’t want a repeat of our walk into Tathra. I’ll be heading to bed soon, after doing a bit more on my finances for the trip – it is just on 9:40pm now.
Planned distance: 5km
Measured distance by actual route taken (Gaia maps recording): 10.59km
Distance by iPhone Health data: 10.7km
Steps by iPhone Health data: 13,760 steps
“Flights climbed” by iPhone Health data: 10 floors
Up and Down (Gaia maps recording): 12m (-17m)
Highest altitude: 26m – starting point at the Church
Beach walking? No
Highway walking? Yes (but just over the bridge and there was a pedestrian path)
Hours on the road: 2.5 hours
Distance covered from Eden: 238.94km
Distance covered from Fitzroy: 928.94km
Click here for the the pictures for today on Google Photos, and here are the maps.
(Please note: this edition of my journal for the MacKillop-Woods Way was edited by Josh.)
Early rise this morning as we had a long way to go to Batehaven. We were glad to find that the Church of the Sacred Heart was already open. This is a truly beautiful building with very little that has been done to it by way of modernisation – even the altar rails are still around the high altar. One of the very few changes that have been made to the building since the Council are the two stained glass windows in the transept. At first, I took these to be original to the 1887 church, but then spied the date etched in at the bottom “by Benfields Studio 1979”. Have a close look at these windows and the details in the pictures link below, and you will see little Australian details that mark them out as modern. It just goes to show that it is not impossible to make beautiful things for our places of worship even in this age.
By 8:30am we were on the road and crossing the Moruya River. There were lots of pictures of swans on all the businesses and road signs everywhere, which led us to think that maybe “Moruya” means “swan”, although one member of our group thought that maybe it meant “elephant”…
Instead of following the Princes Highway to Batemans Bay, we went via the coast. There are a couple of options here, but to start with we needed to head out towards the Moruya Airport on North Head Drive on the north side of the river. This is a beautiful route, even though the road is still quite busy. In the early morning, there was plenty of dew on the grass which wet our feet as we walked on the verge, but it was so still that we could see almost perfect reflections of the boats moored on the river. We came to the Moruya Quarry, now closed, and the park across from it that commemorates the temporary workers’ settlement established in 1925 called “Granite Town”, which was set up in order to accommodate those who quarried and shaped the granite that was used to build the Sydney Harbour Bridge.
The first stone quarrier in the area, however, was a chap by the name of Henry Ziegler who opened the quarry in 1864. I first noticed this name appearing on the tombstones in the historical cemetery outside of Central Tilba, and we had come across it again as the builder/provider of stone for both All Saints Bodalla and Sacred Heart Church in Moruya. I noticed it especially, because my step-grandmother’s maiden name was Ziegler, although I am sure that there is no close connection.
An interesting thing is that Google Maps shows Granite Town not being where the commemorative park is (on the north bank of the river where the quarry is), but rather on the north-west side of the racetrack where currently there is a village populated by people who work in the local horse-racing industry. I had planned to get off the main road at this point by taking Donnelly Drive around the race course, but I also noticed that Google Maps (and some other satellite sources) shows a trail running through the bush parallel to Donnelly Drive. I was curious to try this route, so while the other two went on the way we had planned, I followed this bush route. A word of advice to future pilgrims: don’t do this. I did eventually find the track – it was there – but at the start it was barely more than a kangaroo track. I had to change my sandals for my shoes, and at one point totally lost the track. Also, it is on private property. I eventually came out onto a vehicular track that was quite easy to follow, but then came in the back of the go-kart business, which was all fenced in, and had to be shown the way out by the proprietor.
Josh and Sean meanwhile had come up Donnelly Drive and met me just as I emerged. The maps show this as a no-through-road, but you can get through the end on a sandy track, doubtless used by the horse people and their steeds, which crosses George Bass Drive and heads around the airport runway to the Bengello Beach car park. Here starts a attractive trail that runs for about 4kms, covered with a shady canopy of banksia and gum trees. A cool breeze was blowing from the shore about 150m to the left of the trail which made it one of the most pleasant sections of the Way so far. It had a sort of monotonous beauty that made walking effortless and peaceful. It comes out at the South Broulee Beach car park. At this point, a nice shared bikeway leads for about 2kms all the way through to the bridge over the Candlagan Creek.
In Broulee there is a small supermarket and post office in Grant Street, where we requested and received a stamp in our pilgrim passports. We were going to buy our lunch there, but they advised that there was a cafe just another 500m down the road called Single Fin Cafe. We can recommend this to future pilgrims – great coffee and good food. The proprietress was a local who had spent much of her life in Melbourne but had returned to the South Coast to look after family and took on this business. We filled up our water from the filtered water in the cafe and headed on toward Batemans Bay. We were making very good time to this point – we had arrived at 12:30pm – but we left forty minutes later, a little behind what I would have liked to have been doing. We made our way up Annetts Parade toward George Bass Drive again, and found a small track through the bush just before meeting the road, which saved us walking on the main road for about 850m. On the other side of the bridge over the Tomago River is a large IGA and a restaurant with a…beer garden. Yes, dear reader, your correspondent and his weak willed companions were once again tempted off the Way by the demon drink. So after another half-hour delay, we were finally on our way again by 2:45pm.
This next section was really not very pleasant. While in most cases there was a verge on the side of the road which we would have been very glad of yesterday walking along the Princes Highway, the road was nevertheless very busy. As we were approaching the turn off into Dunns Creek Road along Tomakin Road, I saw a Subaru station wagon screech its brakes at the right hand turn into Dunns Creek Road, and squeal its tyres as it accelerated up the hill. Great. As it turns out, I think that this road – which is newly sealed and in very good condition for cars – is the locals’ highway of choice rather than the A1. Australia really, really is not suited for cross country walkers. Bushwalkers, yes, but if you actually want to walk from A to B (or A to Z as we are) you will find it something of a challenge and even quite dangerous, as no consideration whatsoever is given to those who might wish to walk rather than drive. No wonder so many cyclists are killed every year on our roads.
There is an alternative to the Dunns Creek Road which is the Burri Road, but it is slightly longer, and we had no way of knowing whether it was less busy than the route we ended up taking. There are also possibly a number of bush trails that might lead you through this area, but once again they would add to the distance and I have no idea of the conditions. Another thing to take into account when planning a way through this area is the topography – what elevations are covered by the route you want to take? It can make a big difference to your stamina if there are many hills in the way. As it was, Josh got himself through today’s route by telling himself that all he needed to do was to make it back onto George Bass Drive, from whence our hosts could come and pick him up. In the end, he made it all the way. Long distance walking has a lot to do with psychology and the story you are telling yourself in your head about how far it is still to go and how surely this must be the last hill for the day.
When we did come out onto George Bass Drive from Tallgums Way, we once again found ourselves faced with the challenge of a four-lane highway and nowhere to walk. Some argued that we should take a route through the suburban streets, but these were a true labyrinth (Josh would prefer I said “maze” because he likes labyrinths and says that they actually are unicursal, having only one path in and out again, whereas mazes are multicursal, but I am sticking with labyrinth).
So after some particularly harsh words on my part (pulling rank as Pilgrim No. 1), we continued on the side of George Bass Drive, which, I think, proved to be the right decision. It was now getting well and truly dark. I was in constant text communication with Rebecca who was waiting for us at the Church with Eileen Hogg, our hostess. She was encouraging us with texts saying things like “you are getting closer!”. We turned into Sunshine Bay Road, and from here followed what my map said was the shortest route to the Church. Once again, a good look at a topographical map would have told us what we soon found: an enormous hill (well, it looked enormous to us after 34kms of walking and almost nine-and-a-half hours on the road) lay between us and our destination. Finally, having come over the top, turning into Sheila Street we saw the Church in front of us. We came around the church, and spied the sanctuary lamp inside in the Blessed Sacrament Chapel. As the Church was closed, we knelt down outside and gave thanks to God for our safe arrival. Eileen and Rebecca and Fr Dominic advanced toward us from the parish office across the driveway and greeted us warmly.
Fr Dominic wished us well as we would not see him in the morning (he was headed to Moruya for the ANZAC Day services there), and Rachel and Eileen took us around to Eileen’s home in Surfside on the other other side of the Clyde River. I rode with Eileen, who pointed out all the local landmarks on the way. Eileen and her husband Michael (who is currently in Canberra where they have their lighting business) have a very, very large home with seven bedrooms and three living rooms and multiple bathrooms. They built it so that they could accommodate their large extended family when they came to visit, and often their home is used to provide a retreat venue for the Missionaries of God’s Love Sisters from Canberra. We are being accommodated in the “family area” on the second floor. Eileen and her husband have their space on the top floor.
After showering/bathing and changing into fresh clothes, we went upstairs for dinner: shepherds pie (and lots of it) and a nice bottle of 2008 Wynns Cabernet Sauvignon, with much conversation with Eileen about her life and family. We then joined her to watch a special on TV about Sir John Monash, which was being aired to coincide with tomorrow’s holy day, ANZAC day. She was especially interested in this because her father had fought in the Gallipoli campaign under Monash, and knew Simpson and his donkey. At the end of the program, since we were all very tired, we wished our hostess good night and headed to bed.
Planned distance: 31.89km
Measured distance by actual route (Gaia maps recording): 31.33km
Distance by iPhone Health data: 32km
Steps by iPhone Health data: 40,503 steps
“Flights climbed” by iPhone Health data: 33 floors
Up and Down (Gaia maps recording): 217m (-207m)
Highest altitude: 102m
Beach walking? No
Highway walking? Yes (Not on the Princes Highway, but the section after the Tomaga River is mainly on a busy road)
Hours on the road: 9.5 hours
Distance covered from Eden: 228.35km
Distance covered from Fitzroy: 918.35km
And the maps are here:
Today we did something that we have not done in all the previous 34 days of walking, and we did it only because we had no choice.
The Way from Bodalla to Moruya is wide, open countryside, with many lakes and creeks and rivers. The rural landscape is green, dotted with sheep and cows. The bellbirds sing in the trees. Here and there is a country church on a hill. In the distance is the blue expanse of the Pacific Ocean. We even had lunch in a pine glade on the shore of an inlet near an oyster farm. The only problem with this whole idyllic picture is that all day we were walking with our elbows less than a metre from constant traffic going 100km/hr in both directions on Australia’s Highway No. 1, the Princes Highway.
There is no way we would have walked this if we had had any other choice. In fact, we did have other choices. We had a forest route all worked out that was about 32kms long. This route would have taken Bumbo Road to the left of the Highway about six kilometres down the Highway, and then up Western Boundary Road, Little Sugarloaf Road and Wamban Road into Moruya. But the problem with this was, aside from the distance, the burning off going on in the forest at the moment. We could have taken a route that Daniel recommended on Saturday night after about 14km along the Highway towards the coast on Bingie and Congo Road, but this would also have added about 7kms to the route. So in the end, we stayed on the Highway all the way until we came to Noads Drive, and then, with great relief, we took the back way into Moruya. The effect of stepping off the Highway and onto the country road was almost like yesterday when we finally stepped off the beach onto the bushland track. The constant roar of the traffic was akin to the constant roar of the ocean, and walking through weeds on the side of the road like trying to find a path through soft sand. Some of the weeds, by the way, are a real pain, especially a little daisy-like plant that has small spear-like seeds which stick to your socks and trousers. And, of course, there was the constant worry about snakes, especially after having seen a baby snake on the side of the road soon after we left Bodalla.
I woke quite early this morning, and began work on the blog. My iPad case external keyboard wasn’t working for some reason (a little hissy fit in which the s key was totally non functional and the delete key made /// marks – it is back to normal now) so I had to type the whole thing on the iPad internal keyboard which, given I am using an iPad mini on this trip and I have very large hands, was a pain in the digits. So it ended up that the others were off exploring the town and having breakfast in the bakery before I joined 9am. The bakery is very good by the way – they don’t actually serve breakfast, but they have nice pies and quiches and sausage rolls and, of course, coffee. We also bought sandwiches for lunch from there in presealed containers so they were fresh when we had them later on.
The Bodalla Dairy is an attraction for visitors. This time we didn’t buy any cheese to take with us (I didn’t need more weight in my pack) but we did taste the samples that were put out.
The REAL attraction for the ecclesiastically minded in Bodalla is the Anglican Parish Church of All Saints. This 1881 church is a real architectural gem. It was built at the cost of 13,000 pounds at the time (nb. by Moruya builder Ziegler, the same as the stone mason who made the tombstones in the Central Tilba historical cemetery that we visited – I was interested in this because my step-Grandmother was a Ziegler) under the patronage of the Mort family. There is an historical story here, because one of the Morts married a Catholic and they funded the building of the less grand, but still interesting, St Edmund’s Catholic Church. (Nb. We didn’t return the 1km down the road to look at St Edmund’s in the daylight – it was too far and the church was closed anyway).
There was a “mini” labyrinth in the garden of the Church, and Josh is a bit of a devotee of this form of meditation. Given that the labyrinth is itself a kind of micro-pilgrimage, it seemed appropriate that we walk it. So I followed him as we chanted the Regina Coeli and Lord’s prayer, which he followed up with a Latin hymn and some more versicles, which took just long enough to take us to the centre and out again. We then looked at the meditation garden and the memorial garden before going inside the church itself.
Which is a marvel. Just look at the pictures. They say it all. If ever we can achieve an ecumenical accord with our Anglican brethren and sistern, this is one bit of their patrimony which would fit perfectly in the Catholic tradition. If we are practicing Receptive Ecumenism, I want to receive this from the Anglicans. (Or am I breaking the 10th Commandment – Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour’s house of worship…?). For good measure, we sang “Who would true valour see” and then, since we were indeed supposed to be being pilgrims, set of down the highway finally at 10:15am.
The first thing of interest that we saw along the road was a little black baby snake curled up on the edge of the bitumen. We kept a good distance, because I have been warned that these little buggers can be as venomous as their elders. But he was, to quote a joke I told Josh and Sean the other day about a sick mouse, “very small”.
One reason we were coming this way around South Eastern Australia on the pilgrimage instead of on the “deadly Hume” was precisely to avoid the “deadly” bit. But I encountered three road-side shrines to people who had died on this stretch of the Princes Highway today. The youngest was for a little girl – Madeleine – who was born in 1997 and died in 2002.
Another surprise along the road that I was not expecting was the Coila Creek Service Centre, marked by a large “crashed” pink airplane. You can miss it driving let alone walking, but I had missed its existence on the map – possibly because I was not planning on coming this way. It would have been an excellent place to get lunch, but instead we had lunched by the oyster farm just down the road in Turlinjah on our bakery sandwiches. The Service Station sold prawns in 1kg bags for $25, and that would have made a very nice lunch for three – although Josh says “I don’t eat bottom feeders”. It also sells cold drinks, which would have saved us carrying a bit of water too.
After Turlinjah, you pass the turn off to Tuross Heads, which appeared very popular indeed, with many vehicles going in and out of the road in that direction. Interestingly, many of them were tradies, which seemed to indicate a growing population down the road. On a hill nearby is an old Church, very picturesque in its setting, but it seems to be disused. There is no sign, but at the same time no indication that it is being used as a residence either.
After that it was just a slog until we finally got off the HIghway at Noads Drive, which took us around the back onto the Congo Road and into Moruya from the East along South Head Road. At around Keightley Street, just as you pass the first homes on the edge of town, a really good bike path begins that takes you all the way into town. Just as we were thanking God for this treat, an even greater joy appeared: an abandoned Woolworths shopping trolley! Josh joked that we could put our backpacks in it an push it back into Moruya, and was a little scandalised when I did exactly this. Josh didn’t want to look silly so he pushed on, but Sean accepted my offer to push his pack for him too. It must have been a miraculous trolley, because it travelled smooth and straight. I dropped it off in town when we passed Woolworths, so we made a better impression upon walking up Queen Street to the Church.
The Church and Presbytery are truly substantial buildings. Rachel, the parish secretary, met us and gave us “kind admittance” (as it says in the third Eucharistic Prayer) to the presbytery) and showed us our large upstairs bedrooms. I put a whole load of washing on for the three of us, and then had a very long hot bath. My shoulders are beginning to chafe from the backpack. I might look into getting something like wool covers for the straps next year. I did find some pieces of firm foam on the road today which I used to give some relief (again, “the Camino provides”). We went out to dinner at the Adelaide Hotel (it seemed appropriate for a South Australian), but although the food was good and well priced (I had salt and pepper prawns for $17) the menu was meagre and the meal was not large enough. Sean wanted to buy some stuff for breakfast so we went around to Woolies and got some porridge and milk and such, and also bought a pack of pasta and a container of carbonara sauce which we cooked up when we got home for “hobbits second dinner”. As the beer choice at the Adelaide was also very disappointing, we also bought too large bottles of Guinness stout which we drank with our pasta (yes, a somewhat odd combination, but the others did not feel like red wine).
I did a bit of work on my blog and then Cathy called and we talked for a while and I ended up going to bed by about 9:30am.
Planned distance: 26.07km
Measured distance by actual route (Gaia maps recording): 25.71km
Distance by iPhone Health data: 27.3km
Steps by iPhone Health data: 34,694 steps
“Flights climbed” by iPhone Health data: 11 floors
Up and Down (Gaia maps recording): 153m (-179m)
Highest altitude: 61m
Beach walking? No
Highway walking? Yes, almost the whole way – no alternative
Hours on the road: 7.5 hours
Distance covered from Eden: 197.02km
Distance covered from Fitzroy: 887.02km
Click here for the Google Photos album for today. And here is the map:
I woke early before dawn on Sunday morning having slept like a log in the big comfortable bed at Marg Latimer’s home. The good food and wine and company (and, to be honest, probably the hot bath) worked wonders on my body and I felt totally refreshed. But as couldn’t get back to sleep I went out to the main living room and wrote up my journal for the day before. As I was doing so the sun rose over Lake Mummuga, and I could see what appealed to Marg so strongly when she bought this block of land. In her living room, the lounge chairs do not face the TV – they face the view. Later in the morning, when everyone was up and preparing for Mass, I sat in one of these chairs just to take in the peacefulness of it all – and promptly fell asleep again.
Mass was at 9:30am in Narooma. We picked up Lippy (I hope I have her name right), a Samoan woman who leads the choir. At the church, we met up with our dinner companions from last night, and met Fr Steve Astill, a Jesuit priest in his seventies who was filling in for the parish priest, Fr Joseph Tran, who is on Sabbatical. He welcomed us at the beginning of the service. The music for the mass was Paul Taylor’s St Francis Mass and hymns were Love Divine, The Lord’s My Shepherd (Crimond), and Christ is made the Sure Foundation, so we had a good sing. The choir also sung with great gusto. Quite a few people at mass including many young families. The homily was, as we had been told to expect, excellent. The one take away from it was Fr Astill’s opening line: we have an instinct for self preservation, but our vocation is self-sacrifice. He was drawing upon the gospel text for the day, which was “ the Good Shepherd lays down his life for the sheep”. Josh, Sean and I were asked to take up the offertory gifts.
After mass they had a morning tea out in the sunshine where we were able to meet other members of the congregation. We had our pilgrim passes stamped with the parish seal, and Fr Astill gave us his blessing. After a photo with everyone, we set off at 11am. Marg had kindly agreed to take our backpacks around to the Lawlers Creek car park in Dalmeny, about ten kilometres down the track, and to purchase our lunches from the local Vietnamese bakery. So we are entirely unencumbered with only our stocks in our hands. It was a wonderful feeling to be so free! We headed down the Main Street to the foreshore where there was a Sunday market in progress and across the bridge to the board walk over the waters edge. Marg told us that it was not unusual to see plenty of marine life from this path, including stingrays, but today the tide was a fair way out so nothing was on display except the excellent views.
The sun was shining and the sea breeze blowing as we headed onto one of the nicest stretches of our walk so far, a 6.6km stretch of shared bike way from Narooma to Dalmeny built entirely by volunteer labour and donations of the locals. A great initiative – which makes one wonder why the local council didn’t do it themselves. I guess as the old saying goes, if you want something done… As we had been on our way to Mass, Marg had pointed out the Park that the Lions Club had built and funded, including a toilet block with a large Lion painted on it by a local school group. Knowing this toilet block was there, I was particularly planning on a visit, so you can imagine how pleased I was to find a sign saying that the facilities were temporarily closed and apologising “for the inconvenience”! We made good time along this path, covering the ten kilometres from the church in two hours, arriving just on 1pm.
At the car park at the end of the trail, we found not only Marg, but Lippy and Pauline (Fr Luke Verrell’s mother) and her grandson Luke (named, as he proudly informed me, after his uncle). After we had eaten our excellent ham salad rolls – followed by cream filled chocolate eclairs that Marg thought would give us added energy (a challenge to eat gracefully in company with my moustache!) all four joined us for the first kilometre of walking along the beach in the Eurobodalla National Park. We were headed, on Daniel’s advice from last night, for Potato Point, a further six kilometres down the road. We set off at 1:30pm, and enjoyed pleasant conversation along the way. It reminded me of being on the Aussie Camino, with the beach walking and the changing groups chatting as we went along. Young Luke was fascinated at what we were attempting to do. I told him that he was now a pilgrim himself, having completed one kilometre of the MacKillop-Woods Way – when he was older he could come back and do the other 1249!
We had chosen this route for two reasons, firstly to avoid the Princes Highway, and secondly because there appeared to be a good amount of burning off going on in the forests. The local rural fire service was taking every opportunity of the calm weather for “waste reduction”. But with our heavy backpacks, the beach walking was hard going. Sand that would normally have supported our weight crunched under foot and our feet sank deeper in than normal. Sean and I were walking in bare feet as this felt a lot better and gave our feet a chance of being dipped in the breaking surf, but Josh kept his boots on and stuck to the edge of the shore. Nevertheless, it was exhausting either way, and what time we had made up on the a earlier in the day was lost in this exercise. The next five kilometres after farewelling our hosts took us n hour and a half, so that it was 3:30pm by the time we got to Jemisons Point, just south of Potato Point. Along the way we had passed the closed mouths of both Whittakers Creek and Lake Tarourga. The tide was out as we were walking, but in a few places, it looked as if the beach might be impassable at very high tide.
At Jemisons Point, we took the track leading west through the forest instead of going into Potato Point – a very pretty stretch of bushland, marred only by three young kids on their mini trail bikes and a smoking pile of rubbish that looked to have recently burned. We were a little worried by the latter, given recent events. The fire was practically out but the coals were still hot. I tried looking up the fire service on my phone to find a number to call, but could only see 000, and wasn’t sure if this was really an emergency. In any case, I was saved from the trouble by a couple of guys driving up behind me in the Potato Point fire ute – they had already been informed of it. I asked whether dialling 000 would have been appropriate in the conditions, and they assured me that it would have been the correct course of action.
We were now on the open sealed road between Potato Point and Bodalla, and were again concerned as it was getting late. It is 9.5km from Jemisons Point to the centre of Bodalla, and it was now 4:20pm. Thankfully there was no chance of getting lost on such a major road. It was an awkward time though for Josh’s vertigo anxiety to hit again – which seems to be exacerbated by the combination of bushland and rising paths, and we were going through just this sort of terrain now, even though the highest point on the road is just over 100 metres. He felt better when we took a detour along the power line where he could see clearly around him for some distance and there were no steep slopes on the side of the path.
As is usual for me, the combination of anxiety about our accommodation for the night (I had had no confirmation of our booking from the pub nor had I been able to raise them on the phone) and the drawing near of the end of another long day led me to speed ahead of my brethren. I put some music on to lift my drooping spirit, and was soon fairly dancing down the road. It was dark by the time I arrive at St Edmund’s Catholic Church on the corner of Potato Point Road and the Princes Highway at 5:50pm and I sat and waited for the others to catch up (saying a few prayers to the sainted martyr for strength for our journey). According to my calculations, we had walked 27km today.
The Bodalla Arms was another kilometre or so down the road from the Church, and I was glad to see the light on. We walked in and greeted the four or five locals in the bar, which was unattended. One rang the bell for the publican. As we waited for a response, we noted that they had beer on tap from the PACT brewery in Canberra and planned our first drinks. When Nick arrived, he said “Are you the Mary MacKillop fellas?”, and I knew all was okay. He showed us around to our rooms out the back. The hotel is quite large, but not all the rooms seem to be functional for accomodating guests. Josh had a room far down the passageway and around a few bends near the bathroom, while Sean and I had a room each at the other end towards the front of the pub – mine with a window directly onto the highway. I helped Nick put a sheet and a doona on the double bed in my room, and then we all went back to the bar for a drink or two and some food. Michelle, Nick’s partner, was in the kitchen cooking when we ordered our meals. They were very reasonably priced – I ordered the Lamb Shank for $20. Josh was still buying drinks for us (according to his promise that Sean and I would each receive the first $60 drinks on him as our birthday gifts), so we had a glass of the PACT Lager and one of the Brown Ale. Our meals arrived – big plates well filled with very tasty food. My lamb shank was in a nice gravy with a huge serving of potato mash and veggies. Michelle came out to say hi, and that she had been doing some research into her family tree and discovered a connection with St Mary on the MacDonald side of her family. She happily signed our pilgrim passes in lieu of a stamp.
We had been warned by the Narooma locals that the Bodalla pub would be rough, and it is that, but it is also comfortable and cheap, just $40 a room. And again, added luxury, a bath to soak in after dinner and before bed. What more could a pilgrim ask for? After getting into bed at 8:30pm and putting in my ear plugs, I began to work on the photos of the day, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open, and soon fell fast asleep.
Planned distance: 23.0km (but we went on a different route than planned)
Measured distance by actual route (Gaia maps recording): 26.8km
Distance by iPhone Health data: 26.9km
Steps by iPhone Health data: 35,312 steps
“Flights climbed” by iPhone Health data: 23 floors
Up and Down (Gaia maps recording): 188m (-173m)
Highest altitude: 93m
Beach walking? Yes, quite a bit
Highway walking? Last 1km at the end of the day in Bodalla
Hours on the road: 7.5 hours
Distance covered from Eden: 171.31km
Distance covered from Fitzroy: 861.31km
Pictures for today are here, and here are the maps.