DaDay 12: 4 March 2010 Echo Point Walk, Lake St Clairair

The best way to deal with muscle soreness, our neighbours sagely told us, is to walk it off. So we booked another night in the camping area and fronted up to the jetty at 9am to take the “cruise” to Echo Point on Lake St Clair, and walk back along the lakeshore. A snip of a walk at only 4 hours. The “cruise”, described by the blurb as taking 1.5 to 2 hours, with “informative commentary” actually consisted of a flat 20mins at breakneck speed. Our pilot shouted a few indecipherable interpretative phrases as we sped across the white caps against a stiff nor easter. Also on board was a supremely fit looking, short shorts clad, jumping-out-his-skin sort of chap whose occupation we gathered was to bound like a gazelle along the overland track, carrying huge backpacks of food to drop for walking parties, then do it again, and again. We suspected our pilot, a gentleman in very fashionable designer jeans, was rather more interested in mountain man than in his more senior passengers, and this could account for the swiftness of our journey. So, three mature-aged passengers were deposited in a rather startled state at Echo Point, and the boat was gone in a flash. The walk back along Lake St Clair with fellow passenger John was gentle and scenic. But it didn't walk off the muscle soreness. Even so, we had enough energy that evening to ride to Platypus Bay, but the platypi were, as usual, hiding.

Walking to the showers late that evening we heard a rustle beside the path and spotlighted a whippy little spotted quoll frolicking around intent on either chasing its tail or chasing some tucker, and not the least fazed by being lit up. What a privilege.