From the hostel you could see the coast. A young german traveller told us it was only a 30 minute walk. "However, there is no path. And the grass is a bit wet." I didn't any discount factor to 1) the possible mistranslations of certain words or 2) the proud shrug of her youth. It was a solid hour of slogging through calf deep marsh before there was any sight of dry beach. There were two rivers to cross and only one proper bridge (I gave a shout out to Jimmy Cliff). On the route back I was misdirected into the swamp's deeper parts numerous times by sheep seemingly balanced on dry land. They were, in fact, levitating a la David Blaine just above the water's surface.
The redemption at the beach end of the walk was seeing a whale's skeleton.
