Meeting new people can be difficult. But a slow-burn hike through WA’s coastal wilderness may be the antidote to loneliness.

“OK, phone’s going off. Gosh, that feels good." This is my introduction to Andy Burgess, one of eight hikers – mostly strangers to one another – who have come together for an ‘open group experience’ through Western Australia’s coastal wilderness. We’ve been striding over granite rock and robust tree roots for maybe a quarter of an hour when Andy sets the tone for our multi-day wander: digital disconnection. I like him immediately.

It feels unusual to set off on the wending Bibbulmun Track not with a bunch of friends or family members, but with a group of unknowns: three blokes and five women. We have 60 kilometres to get to know one another without the usual inconveniences of foot travel: our tents will be pitched for us, inflatable mattresses pumped, beds made with real pillows and fresh towels supplied. Luggage is couriered. Even our meals will be prepared for us to cook, and packed lunches delivered. It’s how things are done by WA hiking outfit Cape2Camp , which is branching out beyond Margaret River for the first time.

Today, we are setting off from the other Denmark (yes, there are two), a forest-speared town some four and a half hours’ drive south of Perth/Boorloo. We’d met by candlelight the night before, tucking into kangaroo bolognaise while getting a briefing from Anne Nordgard, the Norwegian expat behind Cape2Camp, who zips ahead to sprinkle fairy dust for our light-travel arrival.

For me – a busy woman juggling work, kids and a social life – the idea of escaping to a far-flung wilderness with not a single obligation to meet is heaven. I wake to roos grazing under native peppermint trees and a kookaburra perched on the campground’s fire hydrant hose, surveying jaunts to the communal bathroom.

Day one

Day one is an ambitious (in my mind) 24-kilometre hike. A strident pace sees the group fragment, but as periphery-bending views of farmland cause each one of us to pause and marvel at black cattle dots on green, we regroup. Conversations spark as feet thread through tall dense reeds and scrub that’s cut closely to the trail edge, with springy heath cushioning Earth’s floor. Talking topics roam from learning to play bass and choosing high schools to family business succession plans and grandparenting styles. Step by step, we connect.

Before sundown we’ve discovered there’s only one couple in the group; the rest of us have unhooked from partners and kids as we seek renewal in nature. There are many flavours in the crew: a doctor, a geologist, a banker and a government worker. Yet every one of us seems to click.

Day two

A swim at Parry Beach marks day two – more fun than the solar-powered (and therefore cold) camp showers. Our group drops down to six as a knee injury sees the couple head home. There’s consensus that a leisurely start to our 12-kilometre outlook is the way to go. I think I’ve found my people. We lope on a trail now marked by white sand and succulent strands, evolving into the kind of rambling native garden you’d pay a fortune to create. Distant rain magnetises to the ocean, sheets landing in a line of silver. My eyes flick to the immense splash of a whale breaching. A rainbow appears – the first of countless in this region, which was once called the Rainbow Coast. Could this little-known track be one of the most beautiful hikes in Australia?

Blisters have got me already. Fellow hikers offer bandaids and wait as I unlace my boots and peel off double sock layers. They’re a supportive bunch; the easy patience and generosity endear us to one another further.

By the time we reach a cove that curls like Wineglass Bay, edged by granite mounds and sparkling pale blue, the group is nearly ready for Andy’s Superman boxers. We’ve opted for an underwear swim, but the fashion choice is a surprise. “It’s a joke gift from my kids at Christmas," he pleads. I dive underwater with eyes open, facing a haze of Tiffany blue. “The water’s so clear I can see the wrinkles in my toes," says Andy, in a last-ditch effort to divert attention.

We arrive to a new bush camp fully set up, a delight celebrated with a local Raintree pinot noir and a sophisticated cheese board. As the Milky Way outdoes a string of fairy lights, we share highlights so far. “It’s the long conversations that are just for joy," says retired GP Marcus Middleton. “Particularly as a bloke, that’s a really rich experience." Financier Nhi To loves the organic connections with people she’d never otherwise meet. “You make all your adult friends through school and the kids," she says. “It’s hard to make friends as adults. When you go on a journey together, it bonds you." In this time of loneliness epidemics, what better salve could there be?

Day three

A misting rain coats day three – and I’m hobbling – but we kayak successfully across a river, laughing as more toes are strapped. The white flag goes up after 20 kilometres. We’re collected and driven back to base, three kilometres short of the finish line. As a smuggled-in whisky flagon is gleefully shared, we agree to meet up in a month, our fast-track friendships pledged to last well beyond the enchanting path we’ve travelled.

A traveller’s checklist

Getting there

From Perth/Boorloo, Denmark is about 4.5 hours’ drive south. Alternatively, fly into Albany-Drome Airport and make the 45-minute drive west to Denmark.

Playing there

The Great Southern walk with Cape2Camp is a four-night experience featuring three days of hiking along Western Australia’s Bibbulmun Track, from Ocean Beach to Peaceful Bay. The tour includes all meals, drinks, tented accommodation and hand-luggage transfers between campsites. Prices start from $1290 per person (twin share). Private group bookings are available for a minimum of four guests.