Last weekend we went hiking. 27 kms over two days.
30% was invigorating.
30% moderately difficult.
30% we thought we were going to die.
10% would be best described as bush walking/snacking/telling each other how awesome we were.
So much pain. So much pleasure. Such satisfaction. Monday morning we were walking like 90 year olds but loving ourselves sick.
Last year I spent my birthday hiking and made a pact to do ten hikes over the year. I had been inspired by hiking snaps on Facebook. ‘Bear, we are into physical shit, when ever we gone hiking we have really loved it. Why don’t we do it more? We should.’
There is a very good reason we don’t do it more. For us fun always starts in one of two ways, on a bike, or in an Uber to the airport. We don’t drive much. Neither of us really like cars. The idea of driving to fun is weird and antisocial. The reality is hiking in Victoria requires time in the car. Sitting passively as our metal box on wheels is active takes the jam out of our donut. But you need to break an egg to make an omelette.
I’d marked two hikes in the Cathedral Ranges and booked a fantastic Airbnb in Marysville for the weekend. The Airbnb had everything we needed and nothing we didn’t. Open fire, gorgeous view, cosy beds, birds on the verandah and a big snuggly couch. It was owned by Europeans so the choices in decor and furnishings made us feel we were not just 90 minutes from home but in another country. The place felt lived in and loved. It absorbed us effortlessly. Bear describes the perfect Airbnb hosts as the ones who ‘give you the wifi password and fuck off’. I’m not a fan of the needy hosts after constant affirmation.
Marysville and surrounds were burned down during The Black Saturday fires.
‘The Black Saturday fires started on 7 February 2009. Approximately 400 fires were recorded across Victoria, affecting 78 communities. A total of 173 people died in the fires, and 2029 houses were lost.’
I had forgotten all of this until we began our hike on the Saturday morning.
It wasn’t until we began the assent through wooded gullies that I noticed the blackened trunks and remembered the fires.
February 2009 I was in a terrible place emotionally. The worst place I have ever been in my life. I remember the fires and how it affected even those of us who didn’t live there and had no personal connection to the area or the people. I remember being at the Coburg Outdoor Pool and feeling the mood shift as the smoke covered the sun and gave our oasis the filter of a sepia toned dystopia. The smell of peoples lives, loves and work burning lasted a week. It didn’t matter if we knew the people. People are people and fires don’t care who you are or how much you love some thing, some one or some place. They don’t give a fuck.
It’s difficult to imagine the velocity and magnitude of a bush fire. Reading descriptions of five metre flames moving at 20 kilometres an hour at 1,000 degrees Celsius are unfathomable. I would hear Black Saturday witnesses describe their experience and even though we both speak English I would be unable to comprehend it as much as I wanted to truly understand what they had been through, what nature can dish out, and what humans can endure.
Last weekend as we hiked through the varying terrain; dirt paths, rocky scrambles, steep assents, easy walking and talking, straight lines, complicated zig zags on uneven and unpredictable surfaces, parts where we were puffing and sweating and other parts where our muscles were copping it, I kept marvelling at the drive and desire for nature to keep growing no matter what. Sometimes we were just putting one foot in front of the other not sure where we were going or why. At other times we were standing on the top of the peak or clambering along the ridge awestruck by the view. Basking in our feeling of accomplishment we conveniently forgot the 15 minutes before when we were hoping our phones were in range in case we had to be rescued by helicopter, and wondering how many days we could survive on our trail mix.
A week after the 2009 fires (was it that soon? I recall it being a ridiculously short amount of time) I saw a photo of a new green bud growing out of one of the burned trees. I was shocked and amazed at the speed of moving on.
It hit me how nature and we humans recover from huge disasters. We begin recovering immediately even though we may not be aware of it. We are growing even when we are repairing and healing after enormous loss and tragedy.
You talk to anyone who’s endured unimaginable loss and they will tell you of kind words, a warm blanket or hot drink they remember being given even moments after an life changing tragedy.
Human relationships are all about rupture and repair. It’s what builds the scar tissue that in turn forms muscle that makes us strong. Enduring these missions and challenges with people you love and the knowledge others before have gotten through this same terrain is what keeps us going.
When times have been rough for me my mantra has always been ‘Every second that passes you are getting closer to a place that makes more sense.’
If you are there right now, just keep going.
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