Baby’s gone bush

Summer holiday mornings are idled away watching Ember back stroking on a sea of hardwood floor. With a cushion under her she frog legs along, ceiling gazing, until she disappears under the couch. This new activity seems to have usurped quacking and no new words have surfaced if you don’t count the odd “ungee” which can’t yet be confirmed as “hungry”. We pass the rest of our lazy days playing cards (together), painting and surfing (separately). Sometimes this routine is punctuated with baby sized adventures.

We took Babu on her first Bush walk, that turned into more of a Bush bash thanks to grandad by association, Phil’s neglect of the path. Emby enjoyed the view while dad, hampered by the baby backpack and mum, hampered by her choice of sundress scrambled, ducked and scampered over branches and through overgrown scrub.

Some sections were veritable fairy glades with moss covered carpet, fern umbrellas and mauve fan like flowers. Once out of the eucalptus, enjoyment dipped as the tea tree scramble was accompanied by a path that suddenly sprouted blades of grass or reed like a corridor of paper cuts.

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It was pretty, many parts like a Totoro forest maze (thanks aunty Jessie for the lend of the dvd, we finally found time and a dvd player to watch it) but spirits were high once we exited into open air and spied that flat ocean horizon.

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Little one was just about napping due to the gentle rocking of the walk but perked up a plenty once a snack and sand were on the table.

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On the way back the scrub beside the path crunched and swayed like a dinosaur was barging its way through and Ember and I held our breaths to see what monster would emerge. Out of the wildly dancing ferns appear a snout and then the hilarious little body of an echidna. No wonder they need the spines for defence with the racket they make. I’ve only seen an echidna once before at Grey so it was a real treat. I suppose Emby will think it’s standard as she’s 1 for 1 echidna sighting per trip.

After her adventures she has some of her best naps and our strict routine is still rewarding us with much better sleeps.

 

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Golden Gate National Recreation Area


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Our first day cyclotourists began navigating out of the traffic and the undulating streets of San Francisco. Heart in my mouth I began to breath again when I reached the comparative flatness of the Golden Gate Bridge, only to be confronted by human traffic. We took our time crossing, the view of the bay was a marvel of glittering light and white sails, half way across the tourists thinned and we flew under red cables of twisted metal then down down into the little seaside town of Sausalito.

It was a charming spot, we lingered to finish our second round of pastries from breakfast. Having left the lionshare of our luggage with the bike rental man I was mortified to be turned away from the breakfast table for having shorts too short, once I swallowed my shame it turned out in our favour being handed ‘to-go’ boxes that we stuffed to bursting. I’m sure those more refined among you are apalled, but anyone who has been a backpacker knows the buffet croissant in the backpack routine.

We met a lovely German woman outside a bike shop who wished us well, then we were off over bumpy timber boardwalks and wetlands into Golden Gate Recreation Area which we always mistakenly refer to Golden Gate Park and get bemused looks of locals imagining us hitching up tent in the middle of the city. There was no sound of traffic as we bopped over the rutted dirt path. Falcons wheeled over head doing a dance with the moon. After all was set up for the night I found the perfect log to sot and enjoy the sun, unfortunately it was a high security log and what I had dismissed as lush bushes surrounding it were secretly super nettles! I yelped and Dylan shook his head in amusement at my plight. Stings were forgotten when we took a ride to the beach for sunset. We were just a handful of souls lucky enough to be in this magical place. Couples perched on the rocky cliff base and strode hand in hand along the shore, ships bellowed their greetings and birds kissed with their pale bellies. Just as light dimmed to just a hum at the horizon, a helicopter swung towards us and came metres above our heads and a nebulous voice barked something crackly at people climbing off the path above us. Chastened and shocked by their hard core telling off they scrambled back to the designated trail. Excitement overflowing for the day we returned in darkness to our tent and the sound of owls and ships horns calling us to sleep.

The Bike Hut
The owner might seem a little grumpy at first, but it’s becauuse he is so passionate about bikes and getting people touring, bu spends his days hiring out tandems for rude tourists. He threw in panniers, locks and helmets for no extra charge and also has some camping gear for rent too. He was so happy to rent us bikes for actual touring that he even kept our excess luggage for the week at his house!

Golden Gate National Recreation Area
Free walk in camping, must reserve a spot beforehand. No fires or drinking water, but yes bear boxes and toilets.

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needles district

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canyonlands, utah


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Perched on a giant rock overlooking a desert sunset, all red and purples and blues, I realised how content I was. Content might sound a dull word, but how many can claim it? Happy happens in a burst and burns out, but content is the smile that plays across your face for days. Living simply, drifting where the wind takes us, a tent, a backpack and someone to share it with, it’s amazing how little we need and how the accumulation of stuff drags us down into dissatisfaction. When you carry your life on your back you cut out the clutter and are able to enjoy the journey.

We’d walked over 20 miles that day down into Elephant Canyon, challenged our fears passing through a cave that was more a fissure in a rock that kept on going down, stuffed with wobbly logs to prevent us slipping down and getting stuck and had some great conversations with hikers we’d met on the path. Despite the hike, recovery was much more swift than the exhaustion of a desk job, spirits were high. Campfire risotto and rosemary damper filled out bellies until bursting and the nights were getting milder.

Tomorrow the road again, off to Grand Junction to catch the train to California, goodbye desert and hello spring.


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Canyonlands

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Needles District, Utah


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Welcome to the land of Looney Toon perfect fluffy clouds, red rocks and distant snowcapped mountains. The world stretches for miles layering the horizon with blues and purples. Grey green plants stretch out across the plains like a sea lapping against cliffs. Soft red sand trails, reminding us what a world without asphalt would feel like, smooth rocks to explore like ants, childlike as we scramble and whoop and jump from ledge to ledge.

One trail lead to an ancient Native American ruin, a granary store of stacked stones, a reminder of the souls who lived and worked this land long before the campgrounds and the 4WD tracks. The bluebirds that I had been stalking since Arizona for the perfect picture were so tame around the camp that we had to guard our bag of pistachios from the soon familiar chip chip of a beak. Chipmunks too nibbled nearby and preened, beady little eyes always searching for errant crumbs.

It was a relief to be able to set up the tent during the day and leave it filled with sleeping bags and sundry for two nights, no racing the clock and cold fingered mornings packing to go to some unknown. Another run as sun faded to the Lost Canyon, creeks lined by stacked sheets of sedimentary rock, water reflecting the blue, blue sky. We ran the sand trails jumping rocks, logs up and down following the piles of rocks called cairns – a merry game, eyes darting feet treading soft, knees bending for impact. When earned, breaks were endorphin fueled euphoria, gazing about in wonder at this glorious land we were so luck to be specks amongst it. Ladders down the rocks added to the fun and views that went on in all directions including up and down.

Our first campfire crackled back at the campsite under Dylan’s loving care. The sunset on a pair of lucky backpackers under a blanket of foreign stars.


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