When people speak of the Catlins they talk of wild beaches, but few venture into the untamed rainforest that stretch inland across the region. These are remnants of a great Southern forest that was felled through the 19th and into the 20th century. I had been curious about the huts that hid in this forgotten rainforest and being so close the temptation to explore was too much to resist. Julia and I had a rather lazy start on Sunday, only leaving 2 hours after initially planned. On our way to the start of the track we stopped to take in the sights of Cannibal Bay, who could resist with a name like that. The beach was populated by sea lions and bogans on bikes, not exactly a great combination. Julia demonstrated her navigational prowess by leading me in jandals through a kilometre of sand dunes, even after I noted that this was a bad idea. A bit scratched up but none the worse for wear we plodded back to the car. Along the way we were harassed by the bogans on their bikes, which squealed like annoying mosquitoes. Julia reported the twits to DOC on her telephone before we contemplated doing our best undercover police impersonation. As muscular and imposing as I am, I decided that I’d let the bogans off the hook this time.
It was the early afternoon by the time we screeched to a halt on the isolated country road. My map marked this as the start of the track, but all we could see was a…
