Bluey and the 100 Kilometre Hike (Part 3)

01:40 AM – Tuesday September 15^th

I immediately pushed the feral shark back into the water, but the damage had been done. When I pulled it up its razor-sharp teeth had sliced into one of my flippers. Fortunately, the gash wasn’t deep, even though the saltwater made it sting terribly. I also couldn’t go back into the water with this cut, as the mother of that thing was bound to be nearby. Once it sensed my blood, all the sharks in the vicinity were bound to be on me like… well… sharks.

I reached over to my pack and pulled out a bottle of eater and my first aid kit. I poured the water over the cut to wash away the blood, and then used an antiseptic wipe to clean up and disinfect the wound. I reached into my kit to find some band aids, but when I did, I realised that life really hated me and this hike. I didn’t have anything to properly cover the cut. I had nothing to stop the blood dripping into the water and all the sharks causing a frenzy, and I didn’t want to see if I could outswim them right at this moment. Maybe later.

I decided to take a risk and cover up the slice with an antiseptic towelette and a few several pieces of waterproof medical tape. That would have to hold until I got out of the area. Luckily for me though, I didn’t see any sharks on my way in, and I would be going back out the way I came in. Although I had no doubt that there were definitely sharks there.

I flopped as far as I could along the beach away from the sharks, and the makeshift band aid was holding. Good. I kept flopping along with my pack on my back, forgetting all about my fishing gear, until I reached a pole that went around ten metres into the water. I wasn’t able to go under it, and I certainly wasn’t able to go over it, so that left only one choice.

02:00 AM – The Day Life Decided It Hated Me

 It was still dark as I swam around the pole, so I could only see a few metres ahead of myself. I didn’t know what was happening all around me as I turned around the end of the pole, back towards the beach. Then I head a splash to my right. Luckily, it seemed to be on the other side of the pole. Nevertheless, I tripled my speed. As I arrived at the beach, I almost beached myself, but I kept continuing along the shoreline for another several kilometres. I decided that I would stop in Perth, and then Exmouth, and finish in Karratha after stopping in Broome. It was only a minor change anyways. I just wouldn’t be stopping in Geraldton.

I heard a snapping sound behind me.

Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming.