“The long distance hiker, a breed set apart, from the likes of the usual pack.
She’ll shoulder her gear, be hittin’ the trail; long gone, long ‘fore she’ll be back.”
– M.J. Eberhart
Date 3rd September
I stopped in at IGA as I was leaving. I really wanted a roll of Caramellos, but they didn’t have any so I got a Caramello Koala instead, which was nowhere near as good. I left my pack with some ladies running a sausage sizzle while I went into the store. They were doing their own fundraising, but they gave me $19 when I came back outside.
The road was good today; lots of space to walk for pretty much the whole way. It took ages to get here though. I actually thought I’d walked past it, it was taking so long.
A truck and a car beeped at me. About 50 motorbikes rode past, so I stopped and saluted them with one of my poles held up high in the air. Some of them yelled stuff out, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. It just sounded liked, “blahhhh, weeeeeeeee, blaaaahhhhhhh.” as it got ripped away on the air. I feel kind of weird about bikies when they wear those bandana-mask things. It’s hard to know if they would be on my side or not. Lucky for them they weren’t at the pub the previous day. Old mate would have given them all a good hurry up!
I stopped in at the Yarraman Pistol Club. When I was planning the walk, Ash and I drove past it and I said, “look at that place! It’s a murder-house.” (there were actually quite a few of these ‘murder-houses’ on that stretch of road, but don’t worry, there is a murder-house right across the road from where I live too). Anyway, I felt sad about the pistol club. The clubhouse was dilapidated and the ranges where overgrown. It was a real shame because someone or a group of someones had obviously gone to great effort in the past to get it up and running. It must be heartbreaking for the people who cared about it to see it like that.
I felt a bit sad today. I really want to go home. I kept thinking that it would be awesome if Ash could come and pick me up. I walked past a house that looked like it had a nice family living there. I wanted to go inside and lay down on one of their beds and look in the fridge. I made up a story about it that I said outloud with a beat like a spoken-word song:
Going to live in that house.
Be in that house.
I will be that house.
I’ll be the shed on the side, and the grass in the yard.
Going to live in that house.
Going to stay in that house.
Be the flowers outside, and the truck in the garage.
Be the mum and the dad.
The kids and the dog.
Have my own bed, and feel like I belong.
To a family that’s mine.
I’m going to be in that house.
It was really windy at the campsite and I was really hungry, but I waited for the wind to die down before I did anything with the Trangia. It freaks me out a bit when it’s windy because the flame goes mental and it’s hard to extinguish. I’m really mindful of my dreadlocks catching on fire! They got singed once at Byron Bay on a windy day. I didn’t realise until I smelled burning hair. Yuck!
I sat outside for a while after it got totally dark and just looked at the stars. It made me feel much less like I wanted to go home, like the sky kind of healed me in a way.
Campsite Upper Yarraman. This was just in the driveway of a farm down a side road. I liked this spot.