LJ Idol Season 10, Week 10 - Take a Hike
Go take a hike, she said. It will be FUN, she said.
Really? Walking miles straight up the side of the mountain in new boots, inadequate socks, in the rain, with more types of wildlife that will try to kill you per square mile than anywhere else in the world is supposed to be fun? By whose definition, may I ask? By this point in the trip, I’d rank yet another hike or nature walk somewhere between dental work without anesthesia and being a contestant on Fear Factor.
It wouldn’t be so bad if we hadn’t been doing this EVERY darned day for the last week. I’d better back up and give you some backstory.
The year was 2005. I was spending my semester abroad at the University of Adelaide in Adelaide, Australia, which is a city in the state of South Australia - it’s just across the little tip at the bottom of the country from Sydney. It was spring break, and our leader, who was a real outdoorsy type, had planned a “lovely little trip” for us to “experience Tasmania”. Tasmania looks tiny when you look at it on a world map. In reality, it is just over 35,000 square miles. And our leader, Emer, was determined we were going to hike as much of it as humanly possible. I’m more of a “slow meander with a camera” kind of girl.
So, a hike.
As I said, this was far from the first hike we’d taken this trip. I was already a little grumpy at this point as I had blisters from my hiking boots, and they didn’t have a kayak that would fit my larger sized body, and I missed out on kayaking up to Wineglass bay and the spectacular view in favor of yet another walk. Then we spent two days out on Maria Island, a spot so remote that it has no hostel, just a bunkhouse with no running water or electricity. There is one toilet with a shower you have to put change into to get hot water, and a barbecue grill is the only source of cooking - everything you need has to be brought with you, which means before and after that hike you have to haul coolers, bedding, and everything else you need to and from the ferry. The sunset was magnificent, however ( I won a photo competition with that picture!), and so were the painted cliffs. And I saw my first wild kangaroo on that hike, just before I stepped in some of its, er, leavings, hidden under the straw on the trail.
We started by taking the ferry across from Melbourne. We rented a bus, stocked up on food as you can’t take produce and such across state lines in Australia, and set off to find some nature. Cataract Gorge. Cradle Mountain. A lovely jaunt in the bus down the Heritage Highway down to the southern tip. We were just grateful to do that sitting down.
We camped and hosteled our way around the state that week. Near Hobart, we hiked all over the ruins of the penal colony at Port Arthur, with its 30+ buildings, visitor center and gardens to explore, and bushwalks to Devil’s Kitchen, the Tasman Arch, the blowhole and other natural wonders at Tasman National Park. We made mercifully short trek to Richmond Bridge (one of the oldest bridges in Australia, built between 1823-25 and is still in use), among other short hops on our way down to the very southern tip of Tasmania.
But, dangit, I am tired, I am sore in places I didn’t know I had, my feet hurt. And Emer, in her chipper, sporty way, acts like another hike is exactly what will fix all of that. Meanwhile, I am scheming how to get OUT of that hike. And I was successful. I went to the med station and had my blisters tended to, and I let the attendant convince Emer that instead of hiking, I should go to the gift shop, which had a lovely selection of new hiking socks. When the rest of the group came back, soggy, wet, and grumpy, I was happily eating a hot bowl of food, in new, dry socks, my boots off to the side as I toasted my toes by the fireplace, making friends with the innkeepers cat. Then we headed back to the bus. Guess what was on the schedule for the next day?
After that trip, I have never willingly hiked again. When I had the option at the end of the term, I chose to throw caution to the wind and try something new. Surely even a surly camel couldn’t be as bad as another hike.
Take a hike? Yet another hike? No, I don’t think I will.
The exchange group at Remarkable Rocks. That's me in the front in the pink.
The mentioned sunset at Maria Island
Me on a camel, Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park
Really? Walking miles straight up the side of the mountain in new boots, inadequate socks, in the rain, with more types of wildlife that will try to kill you per square mile than anywhere else in the world is supposed to be fun? By whose definition, may I ask? By this point in the trip, I’d rank yet another hike or nature walk somewhere between dental work without anesthesia and being a contestant on Fear Factor.
It wouldn’t be so bad if we hadn’t been doing this EVERY darned day for the last week. I’d better back up and give you some backstory.
The year was 2005. I was spending my semester abroad at the University of Adelaide in Adelaide, Australia, which is a city in the state of South Australia - it’s just across the little tip at the bottom of the country from Sydney. It was spring break, and our leader, who was a real outdoorsy type, had planned a “lovely little trip” for us to “experience Tasmania”. Tasmania looks tiny when you look at it on a world map. In reality, it is just over 35,000 square miles. And our leader, Emer, was determined we were going to hike as much of it as humanly possible. I’m more of a “slow meander with a camera” kind of girl.
So, a hike.
As I said, this was far from the first hike we’d taken this trip. I was already a little grumpy at this point as I had blisters from my hiking boots, and they didn’t have a kayak that would fit my larger sized body, and I missed out on kayaking up to Wineglass bay and the spectacular view in favor of yet another walk. Then we spent two days out on Maria Island, a spot so remote that it has no hostel, just a bunkhouse with no running water or electricity. There is one toilet with a shower you have to put change into to get hot water, and a barbecue grill is the only source of cooking - everything you need has to be brought with you, which means before and after that hike you have to haul coolers, bedding, and everything else you need to and from the ferry. The sunset was magnificent, however ( I won a photo competition with that picture!), and so were the painted cliffs. And I saw my first wild kangaroo on that hike, just before I stepped in some of its, er, leavings, hidden under the straw on the trail.
We started by taking the ferry across from Melbourne. We rented a bus, stocked up on food as you can’t take produce and such across state lines in Australia, and set off to find some nature. Cataract Gorge. Cradle Mountain. A lovely jaunt in the bus down the Heritage Highway down to the southern tip. We were just grateful to do that sitting down.
We camped and hosteled our way around the state that week. Near Hobart, we hiked all over the ruins of the penal colony at Port Arthur, with its 30+ buildings, visitor center and gardens to explore, and bushwalks to Devil’s Kitchen, the Tasman Arch, the blowhole and other natural wonders at Tasman National Park. We made mercifully short trek to Richmond Bridge (one of the oldest bridges in Australia, built between 1823-25 and is still in use), among other short hops on our way down to the very southern tip of Tasmania.
But, dangit, I am tired, I am sore in places I didn’t know I had, my feet hurt. And Emer, in her chipper, sporty way, acts like another hike is exactly what will fix all of that. Meanwhile, I am scheming how to get OUT of that hike. And I was successful. I went to the med station and had my blisters tended to, and I let the attendant convince Emer that instead of hiking, I should go to the gift shop, which had a lovely selection of new hiking socks. When the rest of the group came back, soggy, wet, and grumpy, I was happily eating a hot bowl of food, in new, dry socks, my boots off to the side as I toasted my toes by the fireplace, making friends with the innkeepers cat. Then we headed back to the bus. Guess what was on the schedule for the next day?
After that trip, I have never willingly hiked again. When I had the option at the end of the term, I chose to throw caution to the wind and try something new. Surely even a surly camel couldn’t be as bad as another hike.
Take a hike? Yet another hike? No, I don’t think I will.
The exchange group at Remarkable Rocks. That's me in the front in the pink.
The mentioned sunset at Maria Island
Me on a camel, Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park