Too late now to sweat the petty things… The train pulls out of Kingston station in Canberra. Blackberry bushes, graffiti, and saplings pushing up between the rusting rails of a disused line. I’ve chosen it over flying for a number of reasons. Partly a distaste for the pseudo-fascist theatre of airport security, party a distrust of baggage handlers, and partly the unlikely romance of diesel and...
…and I’m freaking out, man! The wind blew unrelentingly all through the night. I stayed warm without issue, which reassured me that my gear is trail worthy and ready to go, but the ceaseless bluster made sleep difficult and patchy. I was surprised not to hear the crash of trees falling in the night. There was little time for pleasantry in the pre-dawn light; tents and bellies were hastily packed...
A chilly night with a full moon lighting up the clearing and a foggy morning filled with birdsong. I’d say it probably dipped down to near freezing, but I was plenty cozy in my down quilts, which is reassuring. I’m starting to think this might be a cold walk and in my mind I’m cramming extra warm clothes into an already full pack. Doug and I had a hurried breakfast and quickly packed up in order...
This morning I leave for three days and 1700km of driving around the alps, hiding food caches in the bush. I’m beginning to get the feeling that it might be too late for second-guessing. I’ve teamed up with two other solo hikers to do our food drops together and share the fuel costs. Ron gave me his caches last week (with all the trepidation of a man handing over his beloved first born) and set...
