Final views of Our stay at Mt Hotham/ Dinner Plains
20 Saturday Jul 2013
Posted Mt Hotham, My Photographs, My Travels
in20 Saturday Jul 2013
Posted Mt Hotham, My Photographs, My Travels
in18 Thursday Jul 2013
Posted Mt Hotham, My Travels
inWednesday 10th July.
This morning loomed bright and blue- but no new fresh snow. Marc left early to go to the ski fields and so as I was up I dressed and headed out for my morning walk. Becoming quite proficient at walking in the snow! Did my circuit, took some beautiful photos of frozen lakes and snow and the sky was a funny colour- looked like it was about to snow, but didn’t, so these photos were different from the ones taken yesterday. As part of my circuit I headed down to the toboggan field and the beginners slope here and to my amazement found no one there! I raced home thinking it was too good an opportunity to miss and headed back complete in my snow gear for some fun time on the ice. I wanted to toboggan with Marc but thought that I would not wait for Marc- he was happy skiing and as I did not know how long he would be I decided to do it on my own.
Yes, it was fun, a little lonely but fun. I enjoyed tremendously going down the toboggan slope many times. I learnt how to steer by using my gloved hand on the snow (and realised when I got back how much padding I had lost from that particular glove) .With no new snow, the slope was very icy full of bumps and jagged bits and at times I felt like I was on a horse hitting the saddle many times! But I had the slope to myself for quite a few runs til a few stragglers made their way in…newbies as they were, but even with the slope gathering people I still managed to fly down the slide many more times, clear of pedestrians. There were not many of us at all and went from top to bottom with clear sailing, right to the end…and even off the end at times and over the hill!!! I managed to get up a lot of speed on some runs! Great exercise I might add as going down on the slide was easy- walking back up the hill became more tiring…but I accomplished about just over an hour’s worth on my own before heading back to the cabin. Marc had rung my phone and he was heading home on the lunchtime bus which was great for me!
The afternoon was a quiet one with both of us reading and doing very little, sitting in front of the fire, warm and cosy- just like a holiday is supposed to be I gather….but it was needed after the exertions of the morning’s affairs for both of us. A light dinner, more reading and off to bed we went.
Thursday 11th July
This is our final day here, still bought no new snow, but Marc headed up even earlier…he went with Tony at 7.20am and I was left in bed. I headed out for my routine hours morning walk but due to the lack of sleep I am not having and with the pathway now quite icy, I think my feet did not know where they were going and I managed to slip twice, at different times on the ice, landing very heavily on my rear end and right arm (the same one as I fell on tumbling down the stairs on the first night). This did not add to my cloudy humour of the morning. Obviously I was a little shaken and upset by the first fall and after the second fall even worse. As the sun was not as warm as yesterday either, I proceeded back to the cabin to commence domestic duties in clean, wash up and start packing things away ready for our departure tomorrow. I had arranged to catch the 11.30am bus up to Mt Hotham to meet Marc, so at least I could see what it looked like and have a visual imagery in front of me…so I did this.
The bus trip was cold but the views were spectacular…however by the time I got there I was already cold…ready to meet my darling husband. But…No Marc! Where was Marc? Obviously not there!
The temperature was much colder than Dinner Plains and so I looked around through the heads of many, many, many people…in fact a continuous throng of people walking or skiing in all sort of directions (so many people) in various colours , different helmets, goggles, skis, snowboards, and other snow gear coming from all sorts of routes. I headed over to the Hotham central which was across the road from the bus stop and stood waiting…actually I literally began walking from side to side of the steps of the building as the cold began to really settle in my bones constantly scanning the crowd for any glimpse of my beloved husband.
No, no Marc. More waiting. Even more waiting and looking….. More hopping from foot to foot as my toes began to ache. I could not see any sign of Marc and began to think this was a dreadful idea. I sent a text to him letting him know I was here…no answer.
OK, perhaps he has forgotten me…, perhaps forgot I was coming up??? Understandably as he enjoys it and I do not share that feeling as it is something I cannot do. More waiting, more hopping, more body freezing as my face was getting chillier by the breeze that was rushing around the steps where I was waiting and my toes were now feeling like two blocks of ice and of course I really wished to relieve myself as well!
Twenty five minutes later, I am still waiting and yes by this time, gone is the calm quiet serene woman who accepts most things from her man. Instead I can now feel resentment rising and the tears are forming in my eyes as I leave a crisp message on his phone…” I have been here almost half an hour and I am freezing, where are you?” By this time I am almost ready to board the bus to go down again as I am not impressed at all….in fact I was becoming quite angry. This did not add to the disgruntled humour of my morning with falling twice and then having to wait for my husband to greet me off a bus that came almost 30 minutes ago! As you can gather I was not bemused at all!
But…
Marc eventually arrives and no, you could say clearly I am not in the greatest mood as he explains his lateness to me. Nor was I overly receptive In fact most unusual for me…I was quite cool towards him (in both modes- my emotions and my body temperature) but I shall leave it to him to explain why he was late. Well…what his excuse was anyway! You can make a judgement on that one! (I must add, as I am sitting here writing his now cosy by our warm fire I am starting to cough….probably from a chill caught this morning- Mmmmm!!!) However, the afternoon improved dramatically and my normal good humour eventually returned along with my body warmth and we went into a hotel to have an apple cider spiked with rum. Of course I had to leave and drink it outside on the icy verandah as it was over crowded. I felt claustrophobic with all the people around me in huge droves
Then we started to walk. Marc showed me Mt Hotham.
Mt Hotham itself is very pretty and quite beautiful in scenery- I gather it would be more scenic once the snow completely covered the mountains but for me, a first time viewer, it was still white and quite magically spectacular. We started weaving our way down from the Hotham central ski fields and headed towards Davenport Village to view where Marc’s cabin that he once owned together with Angie was ( Angie still has it). It was a beautiful snow filled walk which took a good hour or so, but the sun was warm on our faces and it was effortless to walk this countryside. Even though our breathing was more laboured as the altitude was higher, it was still worth the walk. I even unintentionally ventured off track and ended up stuck in snow up to my thigh…of course I was literally stuck accompanied by a few vocal sounds of screams. Once Marc took the historic photograph of me one leg stuck in a gulley in the snow- he assisted me out of my hole. It was hard going- but this time I laughed! We walked all the way down the Davenport Village which is about 3 kms from Mt Hotham Central and took the obligatory photo of Marc outside his (once owned) cabin. At least now I have a visual of this particular place and spot as he talks about Mt Hotham in our conversations.
Back on the bus…at the ‘Big D’ -back to Dinner Plain, back to Rundells hotel for a bowl of hot chips and not one this time but two glasses each of mulled wine…complete with a bystander taking a photograph of us together. I think we deserved it! Sadly a phone call came through on my phone from the midwives at Mullumbimby hospital looking for Marc, which I refused to answer- but Marc himself got caught by the same midwife on his phone when he purchased our wines. This infiltrated into my now pleasant amicable mood as I was not impressed. They know we are supposed to be away- they were informed and this is our time….I share him enough with the hospital. Decision made then and there- I told Marc I have now resolved to answer my phone in future calls when we are away and tell them that nicely ( as much as possible anyway!) But, now the mood is light and bright, and we are sitting in front of the fire…toasty, warm, snug and content. Definitely feeling different from the unpleasant morning I had had!
Marc’s turn:
The original purpose of this trip was to regain some ski-time after a 6 ½ year hiatus from the sport before going to Europe in winter. Lyndell suggested, and I am glad she did, that she tag along since it was better than staying home quite alone for five days. Therefore, the trip became more of time away for both of us rather than just about the skiing.
Back to the original purpose, me relearning how to ski: The first day was messy but with some guidance from our friend’s from Brunswick plus a couple of days of practice, today I was pleased to hear from Tony that I had seemed to have mastered short turns – for the non-skier, short turns are a series of quickly placed carving turns designed to get the skier down steep-ish narrow runs where there is not the room to place the more graceful slow gentle sweeping turns more usually seen on groomed slopes.
I must have impressed him enough with my gain over the last three days of skiing that for my final run of the day before meeting Lyndell he suggested with his friends that we walk over and do “Mary’s Slide.” He said that there was enough time before I was due to meet her to complete the loop. For those who do not know Hotham, “Mary’s Slide” is a double black (most difficult) ski run over in the “Extreme Area”. That part is not currently serviced by lifts at this time of the year so we had to walk over and up to it carrying all our gear. Once there, time was required to regain our breath – not a problem for Tony since he has been at this altitude for a few weeks already. Of course, this also gave me time to read the sign at the top reminding skiers that the resort accepts no responsibility for skiing in this area and the skiers do so at their own risk.
The cold air had brought out a bit of asthma in me but I caught my breath, said I was not going to be the last down since someone needed to follow me to pick up any pieces and over the edge I went. I managed the first 2/3 of the descent quite well but then the valley narrowed and the going got tough! One of my fellow skiers fell and I lost concentration for a split second losing a ski in the process. I was able to easily regain same and then cheated in the last narrowest part (<3m wide) descent by side-slipping.
The final part back to the lifts is a narrow (<1m wide) trail that traverses along the side of a creek at times using small bridges to cross intervening ravines. It was on one of the latter that I came unstuck. I had come around a corner a little fast, swung up the slope to lose the speed, swung back on to the path only to find the snow covered path at this point was a short bridge. One ski shot under the bridge wedging itself, my body sprawled onto the bridge and the second ski shot off over the bridge and landed submerged in a creek 4m below me. Nothing for it, I had to climb down into the knee deep snow and carefully descend the steep slope into the creek. The creek banks were too steep to walk along so I had to walk in the water down the creek to where my ski was. I found out that ski boots leak as soon as the water is up to your ankle. I thought, well I could cope with a little water seeping in. But then, I discovered my ski was in a part of the creek where the water was so deep it just came over the top of the boots filling them both up with freezing water. I then had to climb back up the bank using my ski as an ice pole to help haul myself, now heavier with water filled boots, up onto the track. Tony was there to help with the final haul, literally, back on to something resembling horizontal. By this point he realises he missed a great photo opportunity. He was also incredulous in understanding how I had ended up in the creek without having actually fallen in.
Anyway, I skied the rest of the way back to the lifts with sodden cold feet, caught the lift up to where Lyndell was waiting, the lift stopped three times on my way up. I get to the top at 12:20 (25 minutes late from our agreed meeting time) to be met by a cold shoulder only fractionally warmer than my feet since I had kept her waiting. My explanation did not really seem to make much of an impression on her but she had thawed appreciably by the time I had returned from the bathroom having taken my boots off, drained the water from them and wrung the cold water out of my socks. Definitely we were back to our usual cheerful selves once we had started out walk around Hotham and down to Davenport.
So the 5 days has been a success. We had some time away. We had the opportunity to test our choices of cold weather gear for Europe at the end of the year. I regained some of my skiing skills. Lyndell perfected her tobogganing skills. We had time together and only one phone call from the hospital. Overall a success and I am glad we did it!
Friday 12th July,
My birthday! No fresh snow again but still a beautiful paradise of snow around me. Marc stayed in bed with me this morning as there was no rush to the snowfield because we have to be out of the cabin by 10am. A leisurely breakfast, hot shower and a walk to the accomdation place to hand back the key. The next hour of waiting was spent at Rundells outdoor area drinking real coffee and sitting in the sun, surrounded by snow. So the highlights of the trip:
Marc: Snow falling on the first day, seeing snow in Lyndell’s hair…happy excited face as the snow fell. Walks ,quiet times together, two memorable aspects of skiing was being able to confidently go over ‘The cornice” without fear , being willing to take on “Mary’s slide” including memorable traverse back through the water….and the reception from ‘Lyndell’.
Lyndell: Snow falling on the first day definitely…making a snow woman…something never done before…getting the tobogganing down pat….and having a great time whilst doing it! My morning walks around Dinner plains..soaking in the ambiance of the snow and the fresh clean area and the cold….most importantly treasured time spent with Marc!
A wonderful time!!!
18 Thursday Jul 2013
Posted Mt Hotham, My Photographs
in17 Wednesday Jul 2013
Posted Mt Hotham, My Photographs
in15 Monday Jul 2013
Posted Mt Hotham, My Travels
in14 Sunday Jul 2013
Posted Mt Hotham, My Travels
inWelcome to my regales of our few days away last week at Mt Hotham… It is written in journal style, so bear with me and I will try not to bore you if you read to the end!
Day one: Sunday 7th July.
Well…our first day at the snow! It is amazing…..Marc has at the present gone skiing and I have come back from a two and half hour walk around Dinner Plains….but I am now ahead of myself…so much has happened before we even got here!!!!
So let me start my story at the very beginning!
Yesterday was our day of travelling and quite a long day. We were up at 4.30am because Mt Hotham is in Victoria for those that do not know that….(and interesting the attendant at Gold Coast Airport and the attendant at the Sydney Airport had not heard of it at all!). It is actually three hours from Melbourne by car….. It is not small, not large but quite unique…not as large as the Perisher/Thredbo snow resorts in NSW – but more confined, petite and extremely pretty.
So…arrival at our airport at 6.15 am to find that our plane to Sydney had been delayed for 3 hours. It was supposed to leave at 7.30am but was now delayed ‘til 10.30 am. That is actually quite a long delay, I might say and I was not impressed at all, but there were also panic stations, as we would not now meet the connecting flight to Mt Hotham, which only operates once on Sundays (three times total per week). It meant that our four days away might now be cancelled! At the time I did not know that! So, after explaining our dilemma, we were detoured to an extremely bored looking and unfriendly Jet star attendant who gave us our seats on a plane which would hopefully meet the connecting plane! Oh Yes that’s right – JETSTAR! Need I say anymore!
(I must mention that I have never travelled with Jetstar but everyone I know who has travelled has always had problems, so I guess today for me was not an exception! They also did not put bags through – even though we were on a connecting Qantas flight…as “they are a budget service and did not have enough staff”…Interesting, I pay exactly the same amount for the seats with Virgin and get quality service but I digress, so moving on.)
This bored, non-smiling attendant gave us new seats on a different plane 30minutes later than our own scheduled one. We waited for the plane to board, but you guessed it, the plane was late leaving by 15minutes. How unusual! Arrival into Sydney meant that we raced around to the baggage collection carousel, and of course another delay. Two planes luggage had not been unloaded before ours! By this time, I was hopping from foot to foot, yes due to adrenalin rushing through my veins but also due to the fact I desperately needed to use the bathroom but could not leave! I am sure you can imagine the picture! We waited and waited and watched two flights of bags come out…oh so slowly. I am sure that the staff must have had a coffee break and had their ‘wee’ break which I really needed to do as well! Do you know that it took almost 15 minutes for the bags to come out from our flight? Round and round and round we go…eventually the bag arrives and we raced upstairs again to the busy check-in where we were met by an attendant who again did not know where the place was….booked our seats and headed around to the boarding gate.
Yes- we made it!
By this time, nerves had settled, my bladder had stopped crunching, my insides were starting to settle and we both just sat down only to hear the words “Flight 2237 to Mt Hotham now boarding”. Boy that was close! Excited that we were now in the last leg, onto the plane we walked! To our surprise we had been given separate seats….away from each other-completely different aisles!! Try and figure that one out considering we had checked in together, had the same last name, same destinations, and now allocated different seats?? However, the single attendant on the small plane was lovely and swapped us. We settled into the 1 ½ hour flight to Mt Hotham airport.
Touchdown! Arrival at Dinner Plains!
And Snow! It was actually falling!
I have to admit, I was like a little girl looking at the snow falling in front of me as I hopped again from foot to foot but this time due to the freezing conditions falling on me! but so exciting! Headed to our cabin and the snow was coming down even more and settling on my hair and my clothes- an unbelievable experience…do you know though snow is actually wet and cold! Yes that sounds quite blonde type dumb- but when you touch it and as it falls on you, snow is firm, but then it changes to ‘wet’. My hair was wet so much that by the time we got inside I was actually very, very cold! I looked like a drowned cat! But undeterred we headed outside again to peruse the local shops and settings.
Lee and Tony from Mitre 10 at Mullumbimby were here as well (they spend the whole season down here) Their house is so warm and we were given a liqueur welcome drink called ‘Geigermeister’ which were in ice glasses- actually ICE glasses and you had to drink it in one hit, and then throw the glasses into the sink! Yes- definitely warmed me right up! They come here for 10 weeks every year and have their own cabin…they also have all sorts of gear and most generously gave us some snow gear to borrow! The rest we hired …..another story!
Dinner cooked by Marc, hot showers, yes it was cold in the cabin but with the fire lit…we basked in the glow of romantic firelight on our first night. Bed-as I guess 16 hours of being upright was enough for one day! Day two on its way…….
05 Friday Jul 2013
Posted My Stories, My Thoughts and Musings
inHere is a story that I wrote a few weeks ago about a walk with my husband….I have shared it with some…I hope the rest of you find it entertaining! Lyndell
The rain is slowly easing as sunshine breaks the dawn. Last night’s freezing weather has gone and the only reminders of dripping rain are from the leaves outside our window. The fire has gone out but the heater is on. I lie in my large bed and watch the sun rise slowly in the sky. I resist the morning light as I lay snuggled beneath the warm covers. My eyes gradually close again and sleep overcomes me once more.
The aroma of coffee awakens my senses. I leisurely open my eyes. A body encompassed in a white robe stands beside me. No … I am not dreaming I am in heaven … it is my darling husband with a most important cup of welcoming coffee assisting me to greet the new day.
He smiles at me as he stands there with the cup. The aroma arising from the cup melts away the remains of sleep and I position myself higher on the pillow. He smiles at me again as I begin to reach for the coffee.
“Ready for a walk?”
I groan as I crash down on the bed and pull up the covers over my face.
So, you say … he wants to go for a walk??Let me explain about my husband’s day walks!!!!
When I first met him, we used to talk a lot. We would sit for hours and talk about everything. We would also walk for short strolls along our local beach. The walking and talking seemed to align hand in hand. One day, he questioned whether I would be interested in going on a day walk with him. I thought that was a lovely idea as I enjoy walking. So I agreed.
Now my concept of a day walk was quite different to his!!!Our first ‘day walk’ was twenty three kilometres long, one small water bottle between us, trekking over a mountain range in the middle of a hot summer’s day.Our second ‘day walk’ was part of the overland track in cradle mountain, Tasmania, in overcast drizzling freezing weather. Walking through mist, climbing up rock faces, sliding through slippery tracks and where I hung precariously onto a chain on the edge of a mountain making my way down off the so called day walk.Our third ‘day walk’ was in the snowy mountain area where we wandered off the known track to find ourselves in a virgin area of untracked routes. Looking for the way home my feet slipped off rocks into icy cold water. My face clearly indicated the answer to his “Are we having fun yet?”Our fourth ‘day walk’ was the Routeburn track in New Zealand … but that is a whole conversation of its own!!
My sister in law who knows her brother well, always used to say to me each time I told her about my walks, when will I ever learn? So why should this day walk be any different.
After an indulgent sumptuous breakfast provided by our host in our weekend retreat of freshly baked bread, jam and butter we set off on our day walk. The weather seemed perfect, sun shining brightly, not too hot, not too cold; I was attired properly for the walk, nice bright colours so I would not get lost. Comfortable clothes and shoe attire on my feet. The car ride to the beginning of the track was pleasant, and we talked through the beautiful undulating landscapes before me as we wound our way up. My husband informed me that this part of our journey and the rise in altitude was a section we did not have to walk and I agreed happily. The car ride ended , sun still shining brightly after last night’s winters chills, back pack on my husband’s back, walking poles in hand off we ventured.
There came the first glitch of our walk.
It did not bode well with me when the first part of the ‘ track’ was not even correct. After walking for fifty metres, my husband states…“Well I thought this was the beginning of the track … it has been about ten years since I did it …”
To regain the track we had to climb through two lots of barb wire fencing and cross no man’s land that exists between the NSW and QLD borders. Just like in war zones, no man’s land is booby trapped … You venture through waist high grass, lantana, as thousands of farmers friends reach out to grab you and hang on tightly to your clothing penetrating their friendship through what you thought was appropriate attire for a ‘walk’.My husband espies the track. Smiling broadly he forges ahead.
This is a track?
Maybe it might have once been called that appellation but what I was seeing in front of me was not anything you could call a track!! The track was lost completely in overgrown vegetation, trees, clinging vines served with brown and red clay underfoot.
My husband grins, his wonderful boyish smile.“Ah-Here it is!”And off we ‘walk’!Yes we walk.
My husband is now walking happily through waist high, sometimes shoulder high vegetation, now clearly on the correct ‘track’. He states informatively to me that nature is nice in helping us as I trip over a large root supposed to be seen as a step up on the track raising me to the next ‘level’ of height. He pushes ahead of me, talking happily about his previous cub and scout ventures and treks he had completed and that this track was one of those.All the time I am walking my own pace.
In his army pants, boots and T-shirt he is walking quite well through the vegetation, but do you know that while nature has a way of helping you, it has a great way of slowing you down. Amidst that waist high vegetation was numerous long arms that came out to slowly grab me and hold me in their not so tender embrace. They clutch on tightly, their long thin tendrils grabbing you, enfolding you securely, sometimes not wanting to let you go , just want you to stay and wait with them a while as you embrace this feeling of nature. So many times I became entangled with what I now know as ‘wait-o-whiles’. I certainly did wait!! I could not get rid of them easily. Emitting small cries of displeasure I would try to loosen their hold as I forged onwards, but they held me fast! My husband would realise eventually I was not behind him as planned and from the distance I would hear the words … “You’re not here” … I would call out …” I’m stuck again”. Ah – my hero to the rescue. Then of course the always cheerful words of “it will open out soon” reach my ears … and true to his words … ah … there it is. The track widens to my understanding of what I consider a track. Some pleasurable relief seen as I step stronger more confidently of his ‘nicer’ version of what I understand is a walking track. My pleasure is not for long as once again I am to be confined to single file, tramping uphill, on a narrow restrained shoulder high track, complete with barb wire fencing on one side, so if you tripped and reached out, sharp barbs greeted you warmly in your flushed tender skin. Such luxury!
However, after what seemed an eternity of uphill trekking, slipping on the red clay underfoot my husband informs me, “We are almost there”.
Where?
All I see before me is a large rock shelf which might euphemistically be able to be called the bush rangers cave, but all I could see was rocks. I guess it could be used as a shelter if you got stuck in the rain.Oh and I forgot to mention that I am so excited … yes more climbing through barb wire fences to reach this point.
Do I go on??
Do I listen to that part of me that challenges me to go on?Do I show my husband that I can do this or do I give in?Do I give into my fear and say ‘enough’ …The stubborn part of me states yes I can do this … and so I soldier on just to prove the point as the saying goes.My husband walks before me.
We cross through the cavern taking the obligatory photos to say “we were here”. We climb up and down over rocks to find the trail and then he begins to climb.I look ahead of me.
I look behind me.I thought I was on a track … or something designated to being a track in my husband’s mind.Now I am met with nothing I would visibly call a track. All I could see was that the track I knew has now disintegrated to threads of yellow ribbon on tree trunks or wrapped around vines depicting the so called … what …???? Oh … did I mention it was straight up? How silly of me!
I begin.
How do I describe this section?Small single step by step as the motto goes.Hands gripped tightly on the walking poles as I pull myself up over the rocks, over the vines, slipping frequently on the red clay underfoot. My eyes are watching my feet oh so closely; my teeth are gritted oh so tightly, my breathing is sharp, staggered, panicking….I climb slowly.My husband is before me, climbing nimbly, helping me over hard patches of terrain. The ground before me is full of climbers, roots, tree branches and dirt…earthy, wet dirt finished with rocks that slip underfoot.
This is a track?? this is a track??I do not think so.I am not sure it is even a trail.My husband calls out cheerfully to me, a voice up in the skies.“Found it … another piece of yellow ribbon … we’re going the right way”Going the right way?What other way could we go???I could not see any alternative.I ask the simple question …” How much further till the top”He replies, “About another hour.”Another hour I question … The answer being because since the cave, we had only climbed 30 metres in 20 minutes.I let that sink in … In my hiker’s mind I felt the rate I was going it would be dark before we reached the top.BUT … we keep climbing.
Oh oh … weather not looking too good now…Then the words I didn’t want to hear … but in reality needed to hear…‘I think it is time to turn around. ‘
climbing straight up meant climbing straight down….
Emotions raced through me … the challenge was over, and yes I was relieved but in some way a little annoyed with myself as well. I wanted to continue upwards but knew I was going too slowly. I could not complete my challenge of this day walk I guess; practically speaking it was safer to start the venture down.Privately I was a little disappointed, but really not for too long!
So we turned around.
Now you thought up was hard….down is quite impossible to really describe.
Vertically up … so obviously vertically down … and I mean vertically down!Get the picture??
“The trees are your friends,” calls my wonderful husband as he leaps down the trail swinging from one tree to another, confident that each will stop his possible fall on his downward run. That was the plan until he grasped a giant stinging tree on his downward plunge. This stopped his descent quite abruptly as he cried out in pain. Of course this did not dampen his spirits for long and blithely resumed his downward trek. No, it did not deter him one bit. He is very nimble on his feet and I admire him for that and his confidence in these walks … with me of course along to share these most pleasant journeys.
I follow behind.A different story! No I am not leaping
No I am not touching the trees to stop my fall.No I am not embracing the downward slope like a happy skier plunging head first into danger.But I am looking closely for the stinging tree, not that I even know what one looks like.Instead I am hugging them tightly, not wanting to let go of their comfortable safe grasp.Instead I am treading gingerly watching where my foot plants, all the time feeling the stones slip out from under me as my foot rolls backwards and my body plunges in front of my feet!! Probably, not the way it is supposed to be.Grabbing tightly my husband’s hands as I traverse rocks and vines, I am trying to lift one knee up with the other one bending down while balancing unsteadily on the edge of this slope of what is supposedly a marked walkers trail.
My breathing is now panicking and tears of fear enter my eyes. Now that makes it so much harder to see!! Wow – I thought thirty metres climbing up was hard … oh boy … thirty metres down is even harder. We make it back to the cave and it is easy going now. Wide tracks … rocks safely able to scramble over…What was I ever thinking that I considered this part previously was hard … not from my perspective of where I had just been!!!
Down the trail, though the waist to shoulder high grass, clutching, grasping tendrils of wait-o-whiles … enfolding me once more in their tight embrace as I break free frantically trying to keep up with my husband. Of course don’t forget the red clay slipping underneath, vines of tree roots rushing out to trip me up again.Ah the sun comes out.We stop to take the photo of where we had been.You know, we could have kept going higher. If we had started earlier in the day … but I was more than happy to be going down believe me. Oh so happy!! In fact – quite ecstatic.
The promise from my husband of a cup of hot chocolate at a cafe entices me onwards, downwards, through the barb wire fence, through the mud, through the grass. Excitement rushes within me as I see the house where we had started. Jubilation rises to greet me as now I can see the car park
Yes … the car is still there. Oh that’s a good sign … no more walking.We reach the car and begin to de louse the ‘farmer’s friends’ from each other’s clothing.
My husband hugs me and remarked…“You know you should regularly do something that scares you” (and this is coming from a doctor!)He continues to remark that he would hate for me to get bored with him or our marriage.Bored???
Boy that is something that could never be said of our marriage!!
One hot chocolate and purchase of lemon myrtle massage oil stop, accompanied by groans of muscle aches and stiffness we arrive back at the cabin for a hot shower and some pampering.
I look at the photos of where we have been.I send a text to my best friend informing her” Yes, we did it again … walked a track on a track that was not really a track, climbing straight up from Numinbah to something called bush rangers cave … will I never learn ???”She replies with a smile in her SMS …“Lock the cabin door in case he wants to go for another little walk tomorrow”.
And you know the silly part of all this. We only really walked 6kms in total … but straight UP.And in his defence….he did remark when he looked at the photos-“ It was a bit unrealistic of me to expect you to walk it!”
Will I ever learn?Probably not.Would I do it again?Probably!
All I can say is I must love him!
Where we walked and where we did not walk!
04 Thursday Jul 2013
Okay- here goes- my first blog to experiment with words., so bear with me….
It is the 1st week of the school holidays and I have had a reprieve from teaching at preschool, however my medical job of three days now keeps me going! DidI tell you that I am now working three days….and still enjoying it. In a way it allows me time with my husband, not that i am with him, but ‘with ‘ him. Sometimes I struggle with his medical commitments and at times a personal reintroduction is needed! so having a another day in the same environment dealing with different aspects of the surgery is wonderful and I am thoroughly enjoying.
However, between the work this week,these past few days of this week I have had the greatest pleasure of having my best friend Steve stay with me. He has been in my life for such a long, long time and we have been through so many things together.
He has had a lot of ‘downers’ these past few years and this week it was so so nice to see him with his new special friend! He drove all this way to introduce her to me! Such a lovely lady! Of course she must have wondered about our friendship…but I gave her the whole chapter of Steve and that assisted in understanding where we have come from, where we have been and where we are going. She actually shed a few tears at my writing. I am assuming that it was what i wrote and not my style of writing!
Again we chatted about work, about love and loss and about life. A short few days together but so much said! It was also hard because I also had to go off to work and not enjoy the whole time together but alas that is what life is about! Dinners together were most enjoyable, not to mention the few if not many red wines shared!
However, the short time that we did share just cemented our friendship even further. It is really hard to explain how he fits into my life, but he fits very well…a transition from the old life into the new life…but still two same people. What is special is that our friendship has not changed over the 33 years we have known each other.
So I thought I would share something from my book that is almost there to be published. The following is from my chapter about friendships…it is only the philosophical bits pieced together and you will have to wait to actually hear the stories of real people and their connection to/with me!
So- I hope you enjoy my little musing…more really to experiment with the first post, but instead of trivia, thought that I would write something fruitful!
So Here goes…The world of words are from Chapter 14 and Chapter 17 –from my manuscript… “The End is Just the Beginning: A Widows Journey”
Friends…
We have all kinds of friends in our lives. Many people, not all, go through different friends through their lives. However, usually a person only has one, maybe two real best friends in all that time.
We have friends who stay with us for many years just lurking in the shadows and jumping out when they feel they are needed. We have those that we meet at work. We have those friends that we communicate with while we are only at work and then do not talk with again. Sadly, there are those who are there because ‘you are good for them’, or ‘you can do something for them’ and they are friends for convenience sake just for the short time you are needed in their lives, then they simply pass on.
Then ,there are the social friends whom you meet up again at communal functions and then do not see again until the next gathering but who always present a smile and say ‘we must catch up’ … and never do! If you were lonely and waiting for that phone call, that would be a reminder they are not the friends you really need. But there are also the genuine social friends who do see you at a function and really do mean to get together but time and busyness of life catches up and they flit off to their lives faster than they got there in the first place.
However, good friends, really good friends are very special people. They bring out both the best and the worst in you. Ultimately they accept you for who you are. Best Friends are very special people in your life.
‘Best Friends’.
But how do I describe this expression?
A friend gives you a shoulder to lean on when you cry but a best friend has a shovel ready to hit the person over the head that had made you cry. In most cases it has been said they would take a bullet for you, because it would be far too painful for them to watch you get hurt. A best friend is not only someone you have a good time with; it is also someone you believe you can trust your life with. They are the first people you think about when you make plans, the first people you go to when you need someone to talk to. You will phone them up at any time of day or night just to talk about nothing, or to talk about the most important things in your life.
That is the kind of friendship I have with Steve… Ah But you will have to read my book to find out more!
Cheers!
Oh by the way, my 2nd week of holidays will involve a few days at a very cold place….and it is with my husband so..watch out for installment 2…and 3….??