I’ve joined a choir. I’m sure my friends who’ve suffered through my attempts at singing in the past are open-mouthed at this horrific announcement. Before anyone dislocates a jaw, I’ll reveal it was unwillingly done and we hope to disband soon as our combined efforts are not at all pleasing to the ears. Our little household has been moaning, groaning, coughing, snuffling and snorting along with thousands of other Queenslanders afflicted with the imaginatively named Brisbane Influenza.
We’re on the mend now but I haven’t had a chance to go on long walks. Rather than not post anything I thought I’d share more discoveries and oddities from my short wanders around the university grounds in August. Continue reading
“Childhood should be carefree, playing in the sun; not living a nightmare in the darkness of the soul.” – Dave Pelzer, A Child Called ‘It”
I’ve been planning to write about my visit to the Glasshouse Mountains, but last weekend my brother took me for a wander through Karawatha Forest and while it’s still fresh in my marshmallow brain, I should share all the gory details. Actually, I’m going to disappoint fans of blood and gore as other than mild heatstroke this walk was more about having fun than any real suffering. Hiking with my brother usually involves some hilarity and detours are compulsory. There was an element of déjà vu on this walk for me though as we passed a water-filled quarry, mountain bikers, burnt bushland and paperbark swamps. Readers of How to Torture a Hiking Partner may recall that these elements featured strongly in that tale. On this occasion, however, my hiking partner had already experienced the terrain and was eager to show me its highlights. This time there was the potential for me to be the “tortured” hiking partner! My brother is an avid mountain biker but he also appreciates the slower pace of walking as it enables him to see more details than when he is flying down slopes and around corners on two wheels. This wasn’t an extreme adventure far from home, but an introduction to a nature escape right on our doorstep. Continue reading
“Photography is a way of feeling, of touching, of loving. What you have caught on film is captured forever… it remembers little things, long after you have forgotten everything.” – Aaron Siskind
With a rare Saturday morning free, I decided to stretch my legs at Daisy Hill Regional Park and Venman Bushland National Park, 25 km south-east of Brisbane.
I’ve had a few different hiking partners and on this walk the unlucky victim was Lycra Man. He is more of a cyclist than a walker and I can’t say I’ve ever witnessed him choose to do anything slowly apart from drinking giant mugs of coffee, strong enough to give a herd of elephants insomnia. Considering his need for speed and my preference for a relaxed tortoise pace, I probably should have anticipated the tensions that bushwalking with me could induce. However, I think my desperation for outdoor therapy after two weeks of inactivity impacted my judgement on this occasion. After an unnerving encounter while walking solo recently, family and friends now prefer me to drag them along. Lycra Man innocently volunteered. Why on earth I thought Lycra Man would enjoy this particular destination I have no idea really. I suppose I had such fond memories of walking it with my daughter and brother in the wetter months that I wasn’t thinking rationally. This is how it looked back then. It was green… Continue reading