We reached the mouth of the inlet which seemed fairly low - the temptation to wade across and stroll up the beach, cutting out 5km of track, was very strong, but we held firm and pushed northward through steeply undulating and densely vegetated dunes. Eventually we emerged into a flat peppermint woodland lining the inlet, where the track meandered through the moss-covered floor between grass trees and peppermint trunks. The mossy ground was scattered with orchids - blue enamel, pink fairy and yellow cowslip - and other flowering herbs.

The mossy peppermint flats lining the inlet

After a while, we arrived at a boatshed containing three canoes provided for the 150m crossing of Irwin Inlet. The canoe crossing made a pleasant change from walking - we loaded our packs into one canoe, tied it to another and paddled across to the eastern bank. Then, after unloading our packs and tying a third canoe from the eastern boatshed, we paddled our canoe train back across the inlet, put the two towed canoes into the first shed, and paddled for the third time in our solitary canoe back to the eastern shore. Complicated, but the nett result was that we and our gear were over and there were again three canoes on each side. Sad would be the walkers who arrived to find all canoes on the opposite bank!!

By the time that we were ready to set off, the clouds had given up trying to rain and the sun was slowly gaining control of the sky. A short steep climb with one last look back over Irwin Inlet and we pushed on into the Quarram Nature Reserve, passing regenerating acacias and peppermints that were rapidly overgrowing the track and meeting our first dugite, which slithered quickly off into the aforementioned shrubbery.

Soon we reached an area of more open grasslands, dotted with the yellows and, occasionally, pink and blue of coastal daisies and other herbs. We had arrived at "The Showgrounds", a rolling landscape that curiously resembled an alpine herbfield and would have been very enjoyable to stroll through, had it not been for the bushflies. I think that we carried an extra kilo each of flies sitting on our packs waiting for us to stop walking so that they could head straight for our faces - this area may be more aptly named "The Flygrounds", and drove the fair Nello to bring out that ultimate walker's fashion statement, the fly net headpiece!

The Showgrounds were fascinating though and were home to several large kangaroos, which lazily watched our passing, and a flock of emus, which raced off helter skelter at first sight (of Nello's flynet I suspect). Leaving this area, we proceeded to climb and descend a number of short steep dune ridges on an increasingly overgrown track, as we worked our way back to the coast.

Descending the last dune, we emerged on Quarram Beach, a beautiful stretch of firm white sand that led us rapidly eastward to the sound of the incoming breakers. Moreover, the cool south-westerly that greeted us at the shore blew away all but the most stubborn of our fly hitch-hikers.

A quick skirt around some rocks and we descended once again to the beach, and a great place for lunch.

Little Quarram is a gem of a beach, and we were disappointed that the track took us away from it after only a few hundred metres, leading us back into the dunes, where we followed the path through the still hot air of the depressions and swales in this sandy heath-covered landscape. Eventually we again climbed up and over one high dune, passed above a rocky shelf where the Southern Ocean surf rolled in, and slowly made our way back upward towards the cliffs.

Parts of the low heath that we passed through had been transformed into brilliant tapestries of pink and green by the clumps of flowering pimelea. Inland, we overlooked the flatlands of Owingup Swamp and the lakes associated with it. In front of us lay a large dugite sleeping on the track. Skirting the snake and a set of tall mobile dunes, we were treated to glimpses of the cliffs and bays of the Boat Harbour peninsula.

 

More climbs and descents through blue and yellow flowering heath of varying heights and finally the Boat Harbour shelter came into view - it was a welcome relief as it had been a tough day's walk and the clouds were once again taking over the sky.

It was a comfortable shelter in the midst of the brightly flowering heath and we shared it with a family of swallows that had built a nest in the rafters - no other walkers, just the swallows and a lone frog, but nonetheless a very pleasant night was had by all.

Here we were greeted with half a kilometre of deep soft sand, followed by a steep climb up through the dunes to the top of the limestone cliffs - that's one way to get the body going first thing in the morning. However, we were recompensed by glorious views back along our path from Point Irwin and forward to where we were headed at Point Hillier. The cliffs here appear to be formed by an uplifted limestone ridge; on the landward side, they slope down to a flat swampy landscape dotted with lakes that reflected their fringing vegetation in still morning waters.

For a short while we followed this cliff line, taking in the magnificently rugged coastline. Then, the track took us back inland where it resumed the meandering and undulating trip through dune and swale that we had finished with yesterday. The heath here, however, had not been burnt for a while and provided a different experience - less impressive flowerwise, it compensated by the mosaic of textures and shades of green of its diverse constituent shrubs. Every time we looked like heading east, the track meandered off in another direction again.

The local kangaroos watched our passing nonchalantly. Several sharp ascents and descents over sandy ridges later, we finally rejoined the cliff line, from where we commenced a steady climb up toward Hillier Trig.

Halfway up, we stopped and had a chat with a group of a dozen walkers on a guided trip. Our envy at their light daypacks and stories of proper beds and cooked meals with red wine each night was tempered by the thought that tonight we would also be treating ourselves to a bit of luxury at the Mazzoletti Beach Retreat. Our own stash of good food and red wine was awaiting, so we pushed on, pausing to climb up to the trig and sit for a while, taking in the sweeping views in all directions that it offered.

From the trig it was almost all downhill, along various 4WD tracks and paths, past an old abandoned quarry area, and eventually beneath a dense canopy of peppermints that brought us out to the Parry Inlet Campground and the sea once again. Here we found the perfect spot for lunch, underneath an old peppermint looking out over the long expanse of Mazzoletti Beach, disappearing into the distance.

One of the more curiously shaped
massive tors

Exploration done, we slowly descended the eastern side of the hill, through peppermint/eucalypt woodland, past heath-covered dunes to a very sharp ecotone between heath and forest that marked a smaller granite-topped hill. We skirted the edge of this hill, walking beneath the shady canopy of the tall trees, crossed one of the granite outcrops and emerged onto a dry marshland, speckled with the whites and yellows of the swamp flora scattered amongst the reeds and sedges.

Flower-speckled swamplands

Passing through another sharp ecotone we found ourselves amongst the tea-trees and eucalypts surrounding Lake William, a small inland drainage lake. Surrounded by swamp on its western and southern shores, its dark tannin-stained waters lapped up against granite boulders on the eastern shore, reflecting the surrounding trees. We briefly contemplated setting up camp amongst the granite outcrops, but the call of the sea was too strong.

It was only another kilometre before we emerged from the dunes onto Light's Beach, a small and secluded stretch of sand protected from the big surf by outlying rocks and bisected by a small creek.

The dark brooding waters of Lake William

The water in the creek was tannin-stained, but reed-filtered; with water and a good camp site, we set up for the night on a flat sandy ledge, 20m from the ocean's edge (NB don't count on this creek running in summer!). Having pitched the tent, boiled the billy and rested the feet, we set off to explore our surrounds in the late afternoon sun, stopping for a while to watch and chat to a local fisher woman.

With the protecting rocks and rock ribs, separating several tiny white sand beaches, and a long line of limestone cliffs glowing in the setting sun, it was one of the nicest sections of coastline that we had seen on this walk. To the west we could look out across Madfish Bay to the silhouettes of Point Hillier and Point Irwin. Light's Beach is a special place and to have had it to ourselves that night was one of the highlights of this walk.

Crossing another area of old heath-covered dunes, we reached a stile over a fence, where the track took us for the first time through private land. As we stopped to admire some orchids growing in this peppermint woodland, we were overtaken by another bushwalker, Paul from Sydney on the 55th day of his trek from Perth to Albany. Paul was the first end-to-ender that we had met on the track.

The next steep pinch brought us out to the summit (known as Kooreyunderup) and even more expansive views. It was good to be back in the forest and listening to the chorus of forest songbirds again. The descent from the summit was much longer than the ascent, as we followed a fairly tortuous route that wended its way along a long spur past, through or over a number of massive and impressive granite outcrops. Several clearings provided great views across Wilson's Inlet and its opening to the sea.

Eventually the track evened out and reached the outskirts of Denmark; we soon found ourselves in and out of suburbia, as we closed in on the town centre. It seemed strange to be walking through streets and houses again - the sounds of people chatting, chainsaws in backyards and strains of country music drifting across from a radio brought us back to the realities of life.