The Bibbulmum Track is a 1000km hiking trail that stretches from Kalamunda on the outskirts of Perth, to Albany, on the south west coast of Western Australia. In early August 2024 I set out from Kalamunda on a solo 6 week end-to-end walk. Ed and some friends met me in Albany, where the four of us then commenced a 2 week cycle along the Mundabiddi Trail, heading north back to Perth. The Mundabiddi Trail occasionally crosses the Bibbulmum and visits many of the same towns, but follows a different route.

The track is signposted with yellow triangular markers symbolising the Waugal, the rainbow serpent of Aboriginal Dreaming. These became a familiar sight and a welcome indication of progress made each day. Occasionally tree bark had overgrown an old marker, looking much like the waugal had been ‘eaten’ by the tree.

The regularly spaced shelters are a big feature of the track. These varied from the original small wooden shelters, to large open rammed earth buildings. Use of the track is strongly discouraged during the summer months when extreme heat and bushfire threat make long distance walking in the region unsafe. The cooler and wetter months are therefore popular times to walk. I left Kalamunda in early August, and really appreciated having shelter each night in the cold and frequently wet conditions.

Highlights of the first section to Dwellingup included multiple ascents up and across massive granite domes. There were lovely pockets of cycads and huge grass trees, and occasionally the ground would be littered with the golfball sized gumnuts (known as ‘honkey’ nuts) from marri trees overhead. I glimpsed a group of Carnaby’s white tailed cockatoos near Mt Dale and discovered that tripping over chewed up gumnuts underfoot was usually accompanied by the loud caw of red-tailed black cockatoos in the trees above.

After five days of sunny, mild days and freezing nights, the weather changed with a torrential overnight storm at Nerang Hut. Drizzle and occasional showers chased me into Dwellingup on day eight. I arrived in the late morning, using the rest of the day to mail a few things home, collect and repack a food supply parcel, and do laundry.

I had expected to spend most nights camping, anticipating that the shelters would be busy and noisy. In reality I rarely shared the shelters with more than one or two others and the overwhelmingly wet and windy conditions meant that I spent the majority of nights under shelter. I quickly realised that bringing a Dan Durston tent was a mistake – being non-freestanding it couldn’t be pitched on a sleeping platform and once wet it was a huge soggy mass that proved almost impossible to dry in the cold, damp conditions. I quickly swopped this out with a minimalist 1-person Big Agnes tent and added a Mont uberlight down sleeping bag (used as an inner layer) for extra warmth.

The five day section from Dwellingup to Collie was almost entirely a solo affair. Two women I’d met in Dwellingup joined me at Murray Hut for the first night, but left well ahead of me the following morning, hoping to ‘double hut’ that night. I wandered off later through large sections of forest that were heavily impacted by fire, drought, disease or some combination of these. Drizzling on and off. I walked past the bauxite mine conveyor system en route to Possum Springs – the noise was incredible and could be heard for ages beforehand.

My last night before reaching Collie was at Harris Dam Hut – an old-style and particularly damp and bleak structure infested with mosquitos. It had been a long and lonely trudge which ended in an apocalyptic thunder and lightning storm with huge wind gusts. It was a miserable night, followed by a sodden walk in to Collie. I cannot recommend the wonderful Black Diamond Lodge highly enough – I spent a delicious rest day here and it worked wonders to reset both mind and body before the next stage.

Walking pace proved perfect for orchid spotting, and I was lucky to see some early flowering species. The day from Beavis to Beedelup shelter was a standout for wildflowers – the weird looking ‘helmet’ orchids (looking like teeny tiny aliens), ‘donkey’ and ‘spider’ orchids too.

Things got soggier and soggier south of Collie – heavy overnight rain and walking in full waterproofs became the norm as I splashed south. Strong winds kept me on edge as branches crashed down intermittently in the distance. Once past Balingup there was a random day without any rain, and the busiest hut yet at Blackwood, with an overnight hiker population of seven.

From the Blackwood River we reached the first of the giant karri trees that would be our companions for the next weeks. The stock route shelter at Willow Springs was perfectly located for Mark and I to hide from yet more heavy overnight rain. The next day involved several diversions with minor creeks having turned into muddy torrents overnight. Climbing over massive fallen trees was the theme of the day as Mark & I splashed on into Donnelly River village for an early lunch and multiple cups of coffee. It was absolutely tipping down at Tom Road shelter. This was the the day we passed the halfway marker, which did raise our sodden spirits a bit. So much rain, we were now facing likely track closures and rerouting with pretty extensive flooding in the region.

I reached Pemberton in a swirl of uncertainty. The track was now severely flooded and closed to the south. I made a last minute decision to bail out of the expensive and unappealing Pemberton, and jump on the bus south to Walpole to wait it out for a day. Just 36 hours later and I was back on a bus, this time heading north back up as far as Northcliffe. The trail had mostly reopened to the south, with a diversion to bypass the flooding around Lake Maringup.

The next six days to Walpole was my longest period of solo hiking. With the track closures it seemed that there was no-one immediately ahead of me, and no-one heading up from the south. It was mostly overcast or drizzling, with howling winds. I was happy to be largely out in the open, away from large trees and falling debris. The route wove through patches of low forests and along sandy, often flooded tracks across open plains.

After Woolbales shelter the trail finally sweeps out to the Southern Ocean. There were teasing glimpses of the coast as I meandered up and over a series of granite outcrops. A stroll along Mandalay Beach is followed by a seemingly neverending clamber across a number of steep sand dunes, before arriving at the nicely sheltered Long Point hut. It was worth the evening walk out to Little Long Point to see the ocean dashing against the rocks.

After touching the south coast, the trail quickly heads back inland. Once past Mt Clare the first of the giant red tingle trees (Eucalyptus jacksonii) start to appear. Past Walpole and nursing a painful shin, I had two shorter days in lieu of a rest day – this was fabulous walking through the enormous tingle trees, despite more wet conditions. The Frankland River shelter, set alongside the Frankland River, was a favourite and a lovely spot to sit and dangle tired legs in the cool water.

Once past the Walpole – Nornalup National Park, the trail weaves its way back to the coast at Conspicuous Cliff and then on to the shelter at Rame Head. The next days featured some lovely walking through coastal heathlands, over rocky headlands and along beaches. Also a massive dump of rain, which I mostly avoided with an early finish at the campground at Peaceful Bay.

Boat Harbour hut was a real low point – despite emptying and hanging my pack (with all food stashed in the rodent-proof tubs), my pack was raided overnight and ended up with multiple holes chewed in the base and sides. The hut & campsites are very exposed and the area recently burned, so camping was not appealing. But in hindsight, camping well away from this rodent-infested hut is recommended.

Denmark was a nice overnight stop & worth the diversion into town for the excellent pizza. The Wilson Inlet was still closed so I headed back to the coast the next day and across the sand bank blocking the inlet. I soon realised that the high waters contained within the inlet meant that the trail along the waters edge was well under water … more wet feet. Warm sunny conditions also meant higher snake numbers, six before lunch walking out from Denmark.

Given the choice of wading along the inundated trail around to Nullaki shelter, or tripping over a tiger snake on the patches of dry ground, I chose the water.

The walking was pretty gentle from Nullaki to Sandpatch – the final shelter of the walk. The Torbay Inlet crossing was soft and up to mid-thigh depth, but easily negotiated. Lots more tiger snakes, multiple blue tongue skinks and a bandicoot livened up the coastal heathland walking. There were also some stunning stretches of huge flowering banksias, and some delicate spider orchids.

Arriving in Albany turned out to be more emotional than I expected. I video-called Ed to share the final 500 m as I made my way into town and to the official track terminus at the visitor centre – ringing the bell to signify the completion of my end-to-end hike. Cue cheering and applause from staff and visitors, and a nice warm feeling of accomplishment. I took myself off to a recommended cafe for coffee and breakfast … and now to prepare bike and body for the next stage, the Mundabiddi MTB trail.