The Mystery of the Light in the Night

I’m scared of the things I think of
When night comes along
Something gets hold of me
Something I can’t see

This is the Night. THE THE

Shortly before kilometre 30, there they were. In the dark oily waters beneath us, circular shimmering lights like submerged night lights were glowing mysteriously. Most of them gathered together in one spot as if to keep each other company, with one or two astray on the rocky shores of the tiny bay on the eastern side of Sydney Harbour. Water lights to scare off the sharks? Glowing algae? Squid? Sea fireflies? We were not sure and still, one day after this surreal sight, are not sure what we saw. If we did not have the blurry nighttime pictures on our phones to prove it, we might even think it was only an illusion. In the end, it didn’t and doesn’t matter, as these tiny luminescent specks in the water, whatever they were, added to the magic of the night. This truly magical night.

The Sydney Dusk to Dawn Walk – 37km from North Sydney to famous Bondi Beach in the south. A fundraiser for children in need, a fun way to spend time with my friends, a wonderful way to see this magical city by night.

I have run a few races in Sydney, always making sure that I stop along the way to take photos of the local sights and take in the beauty of this city by the ocean. Walking, and at night, would mean a new and fascinating way of exploring the city. I signed up, foolishly ignoring the fact that to walk that kind of distance, it would take anybody, including me, at least seven hours. Which, considering the fact that this night walk, as the name promised, would start at dusk and would take us until the next morning to reach iconic Bondi Beach.

Walking, schmalking, we showed up in North Sydney on this warm summer night, a light northeasterly blowing, a promise of summer in the air. A little over a thousand people did the same, a diverse crowd – young and old, fit and not so fit, groups and couples and singles – gathered in a park north of the city. All of us easily recognizable by the light t-shirt we had received and a headlamp around our heads. Both of which would prove invaluable later that night.

8pm – North Sydney to Rushcutters Bay (12 km)

A thousand people in light blue t-shirts walking through the city lights, like a school of fish weaving in and out of traffic, avoiding lampposts and parked cars, grudgingly stopping only for red traffic lights, trying to make their way out of the large group of fellow walkers, to swim themselves free, to get ahead. That early stage of any walk or race, when you think every minute counts. Following the little blue arrows attached to poles and fences, the shoal made its way to Lavender Bay: the skyline illuminated in the distance, Sydney Harbour Bridge in front of our eyes. Beautiful as always. Sydney Opera House to the left. Sydney’s most iconic landmarks lighting up the night.

Luna Park, the heritage-listed amusement park, eerily quiet and dark in the night, the smiling clown face entrance of Mr Moon frozen for the night. Following the bay underneath the Harbour Bridge, before heading up to cross and dropping down through The Rocks and following the waterfront around Circular Quay with a stunning view of the Opera House. Walking alongside the outside of the Botanical Gardens, through the Domain, the majestic building of the Art Gallery of New South Wales towards our first checkpoint at Rushcutters Bay Park.

The mood was excited and full of life: portable speakers playing dance music, participants engaged in conversation and fun, each one of them still mostly keeping to themselves and their group peers. Still trying to outwalk the others. This too should change very soon.

10pm – Rushcutters Bay to Rose Bay (8km)

Leaving most city hustle behind us, we were now navigating through leafy suburban streets and beautiful baysides shimmering in the night. Walking through beautiful and well-maintained neighbourhoods, narrow heritage-listed terrace houses slowly giving way to impressive sandstone mansions. The irony, that we were walking through some of the fanciest and richest parts of this city to raise funds for impoverished children in the world did not escape us. For the first time on our walk, three hours into the experience, we came upon the first “loop”. An added segment to our long walk that added nothing to it but a few km and an increasing throbbing pain in all parts of our bodies; our feet, our legs, our hips, and our thighs. Walking this distance was getting increasingly harder and more challenging, and we were grateful that at least we did not have to walk in the heat of the blistering sun. We made it past halfway point – stopping only for a quick selfie and a toilet break. Our legs were becoming increasingly heavy. Midnight. We should have been in bed. Instead we had to walk almost another 20k. In the distance a lone group of walkers was singing a familiar tune by the Backstreet Boys:

“You are my fire, The one desire, But we are two worlds apart, Can’t reach to your heart, Tell me why, Ain’t nothin’ but a heartache.” Slowly we were bonding as fellow walkers over the pain this event caused us.

12am – Rose Bay to Watsons Bay (11.5km)

After 20km and 4 hours of walking in the middle of the night, things started to become a bit blurry. Following the coastline, navigating foreshore tracks and cliff walks, passing historic sights in Vaucluse and Watsons Bay, we now were increasingly relying on our headlamps and the others walking with us. Stumbling along unsealed trail paths in the dark, following the walker in front of us, trying hard not to miss the little blue arrows that were showing us the way.

Only to get lost still not once, not twice, but three times in the middle of the bush. It was in these moments of getting lost that the spirit of the event changed from individuals and separate teams to a community event of sticking together, helping each other, looking out for each other. By now the number of walkers had shrunk dramatically and of the 1000 original walkers, all that was left was what felt like a handful of loopy walkers toughing it out together.

The nightlit skyline of the city in the distance, we were following leafy narrow trails with steps and stairs, past beautiful small secluded beaches and coves, another unnecessary loop, to arrive at Parsley Bay Suspension Bridge. Crossing over the charming, century-old wooden bridge, we gazed down into the dark waters to spot the numerous phosphorescent dots beneath us. By now almost delirious from exhaustion and pain and tiredness, all we could do was stare at them in awe, taking in this magical moment of silent mystery. Whatever this was, it was beautiful. So beautiful that it left us speechless – that, or we were simply too tired to speak.

2am – Watsons Bay to North Bondi (6km)

The final stretch. We had never planned to actually walk the whole thing, but here we were – at the point of no return. Following ravishing coastal views highlighted by the orange light of the crescent moon over the still of the ocean, we were on the last stretch on our way to the finish line. By now, the pain in our feet and legs and bodies was turning into catastrophic injuries and permanent damage in our heads. At times we were not even sure we would make it – six kilometers never felt that long. The iconic Bondi Icebergs Pool in sight, we caught one last glimpse of Sydney harbour behind us, and made our way down to North Bondi. One last loop, which by now we simply ignored, stumbling on, cursing on, limping on, wondering if we would ever make it.

And we did. 7 hours and 45 minutes after we had left North Sydney on what seemed ages ago, we stumbled along Bondi Parade and crawled through the finish line of what was to be the longest walk and hardest thing any of us had done to this point. But we had done it. In the slowly vanishing dark of the night, it wasn’t only our small head torches that were the light. It was us. Each one of the 250 participants who made it in the end, being a tiny little light in a world that at times seems more and more dark.

As for the glowing lights in the waters beneath Parsley Bay Bridge, no real explanation for this phenomenon could be found. Maybe phosphorescent algae, giving off light caused by turbulence in the water. Maybe a group of glowing Firefly Squid passing through. Lights submerged by mankind to distract sharks. Or, my favourite, tiny ostracods – or sea fireflies. Tiny crustaceans in the water, sending off their shiny sparkle to find their soulmates. Or maybe simply our minds, exhausted and tired, imagining magical things. No matter what it was, in those late hours of our night walked through, these small lights lit up the darkness around us. And for me, that is all the explanation I need.

There are a few things as startling as encountering an unearthly glow in the wild. Glow-worms. Ghost mushrooms. Fireflies. Flashlight fish. Lantern sharks. Vampire squid. Our forest floors and ceilings, our ocean depths and fringes are full of luminous beings, creatures lit from the inside. And they have, for many centuries, enchanted us, like glowing missionaries of wonder, emissaries of awe. Is there anything more beautiful than living light?

Julia Baird. Phosphorescence. On Awe, Wonder and Things That Sustain You When the World Goes Dark