In The Living Mountain, Scottish walker, Nan Shepherd, wrote, “The thing to be known grows with the knowing.” She was referring to how much larger the mountain felt after she explored it slowly and observed it through all her senses. How can a setting grow after exploring it thoroughly? Surely once you are familiar with it, a place should feel smaller – be less of a mystery? Continue reading
If abundant alliteration alarms you, I suggest you avert your attention to an alternative article, as I’m feeling phonetically flamboyant on this fine Friday morning.
Wildlife watchers or flora and fungi fans will probably agree that repetition reaps rewards, particularly in rainforests. Continue reading
Sometimes I am my worst enemy. Instead of living in the moment, I wasted some of my precious trip at Warrumbungle National Park berating myself for not allocating more time for exploration, and then wasted even more energy berating myself for berating myself. There may have also been some energy expended berating myself, for berating myself, for berating myself. Ah yes, it’s time for a brief glimpse into the terrifying misfirings of the Jane brain. You’ve been warned! Continue reading
“The path to paradise begins in hell.” When 13th century Italian poet, Dante, wrote these words in Divine Comedy, he couldn’t have predicted how applicable they would be to my first walk in the Bunya Mountains. Continue reading
I had to wonder if mountains have ears and Mt Edward decided to reward my loyalty. There’s a wildlife encounter I’ve always longed for and in March, 2018, it finally came to pass, although not in a way I’d ever envisaged. Initially, it evoked terror rather than delight. Continue reading
I’m not in the habit of taking hallucinogens but what I was seeing in front of me made me wonder if I’d been slipped a few magic mushrooms in my morning omelette. Guarding the entrance to Crows Nest National Park was this. Continue reading
Next to a boardwalk winding up to the Red Rock headland in New South Wales, rests a simple memorial plaque. Easily missed in overgrown grass, it records a brutal event in Australian history unknown to many who flock to the small coastal village during holiday season. Continue reading
Who would be mad enough to go solo bushwalking and camping during heatwave conditions in a rugged wilderness area with little or no phone signal? Me, of course. Continue reading
She “shakes my soul like a pothole, every time.” I smiled as these lyrics played on my car radio and wondered if Ed Sheeran had ever driven on remote roads while touring Australia, where some of these giant craters could swallow a small car. Continue reading
Let me be perfectly honest. This was certainly no rugged adventure. I didn’t get hurt or lost. There were no epiphanies. I didn’t reach a profound conclusion. There was a risk that I would never want to return home though. Continue reading
I blame the birds. I really do. I’m sure it had nothing to do with any lack of self-control on my part or my obsessive compulsive photograph-taking, or being too lazy to leave a toasty warm bed on a freezing morning. Yes, it was definitely the birds’ fault I started my official walk much later than expected. Continue reading
“Mum, you’re such a nerd!” My daughter may be right but given she’s a self-confessed anatomy and biochemistry nerd, it was a sign of affection rather than criticism. Continue reading
“I beg your pardon, I never promised you a rose garden.” When I first sat down to write about the Yaddamun Trail, an exposed, hot, dry, hilly, 19 kilometre walk at White Rock Conservation Estate near Ipswich, I recalled my mother singing these words many years ago. The Lynn Anderson hit continues, “Along with the sunshine, there’s gotta be a little rain some time.” In the case of the Yaddamun Trail, more rain and far less sunshine would have been a relief. Continue reading
“Mum, why do you have mud on your hat?”
I didn’t reply but attempted a withering look at my adult son. Given the circumstances, it was surprising there were any surfaces on me not covered in mud. I couldn’t understand how my cheeky offspring had remained spotless, especially as he was such a mud magnet as a child. Continue reading
