The Royal National Park is a large area of land adjacent to the coast, about an hour south of Sydney, where people go to surf, swim, camp and bush-walk. It was the first national park in the world and features a scenic 26km coastal track running north to south from Bundeena to Otford along its length. I'd been told that the walk was beautiful and a must-do while I was in Sydney.

Mmm... not so much.

Looking back, I really should have thought it through better: I picked a day where the temperature reached 38 degrees. I didn't take enough water. I thought I could walk it in a day when it usually takes two. I didn't start early enough in the morning. The list goes on, but essentially, what was meant to be a picturesque walk turned into a bit of nightmare.

I caught the train from Erskineville to Redfern, then down to Cronulla. I then got the ferry across to Bundeena, where I promptly got lost and ended up walking a few kilometres out of my way. The track was sandy and unshaded except for scrubby bushes which erupted with flies when I passed. The sun was beating down and I ran out of water after three and a half hours. There was no one on the path and nothing to see for miles around but I knew there was a kiosk coming up, I just wasn't sure how far. I struggled on until I got there and found myself in a queue behind a man trying to order ice lollies for about a million children - "Actually, make that 6 Calippos. What's that Johnny? No, 5 Calippos and another Popsicle" - argh! I bought a Powerade in every colour and downed them all. I decided to push on as it was easier to keep going than try to walk back or cut across the park to a railway station. But I just got hotter and more tired and was sick of all the flies which were constantly trying to crawl on my face. You end up forever flapping your hand in front of your face trying to flick them away. They call it the Aussie wave. Now I get why they wear hats with corks on here. I'm going to buy me one of those bad boys!

I kept walking along cliffs and beaches (where I soaked my baking feet) and I finally reached a car park and surfing beach and was told that it wasn't too much further, but that I should leave the track and hug the cliffs instead, as it would be quicker. I trotted off, desperate to finish the hellish walk and get back to civilisation, but soon realised that there was no path. I ended up clinging to some rocks with the cliffs above me and the sea crashing beneath me . I couldn't go back as the tide was coming in and needed to press on as a storm was approaching and it was getting dark. I think if I'd had mobile reception at that point, I would have called the coastguard. But I didn't, so I scrambled on and eventually found myself on a windswept beach and managed to take a path up the hills and reached a car park. I spoke to a guy packing up his car and was told that it was another few kilometres to Otford. I'd walked around 23 km in the previous eight hours and I didn't know whether I could make it, so I asked him where he was going. He and his family were heading back to the city and I practically begged him to take me and he very kindly did.

Never again.