I've been pumping myself full of pills these past couple of days to try and get rid of this cough/cold/flu I've had for what seems forever. I'm taking a mulit-vitamin twice a days, two spirulina tablets twice a day, and an enchinacea tablet three times a day. It seems to be working, I'm slowly feeling better, and have a bit more energy.
I sat down tonight after dinner and rubbed beeswax into my tramping boots. It's one of those activities that makes me feel good, seeing the warm wax sink into the leather, rubbing it in and watching the leather change colour. It's a comforting feeling to know that I'll soon be tramping in these boots, and that how well I prepare them now will affect how well they perform.
I love the whole planning leading up to a tramp. The other three coming with me came around last night, and we all sat round our kitchen table, poring over the map and discussing the route. We talked about the equipment we need to take, and what the tramp's likely to be like. Earlier yesterday I'd gone through all my tramping gear — boots, pack, clothes, cooking stove etc and made note of what I needed to buy and what was still good. I went into the tramping shop today and brought some polypropelene long johns and top, and a fleecy pullover. I still might buy another pair of fleecy trousers.
I sit around, as tonight, and think about past tramps and what this coming one will be like, and whether I'm fit enough, and whether I'll be taking too much, and what the weather could be like …
My first tramp I must have been 14. I'd been camping before, but never actually tramping. I can still go over the whole route in my mind. Walls whare to Totara Flats the first day, then up to Cone Ridge and a drop down to Neil Forks hut. Then travelling down the Hector river till it met with the Waiohine river, and a trip a little way down that followed by a sidle along the river back to Totara Flats and out the next day. I wasn't sure what to expect on the tramp, carrying my own equipment in a small yellow pack, wearing a pair of over-sized rubber tramping boots. I came back wanting to do more and more and more. All through college and my first years at University I went tramping a number of times each year. Weekend trips to the Tararuas, going up on the Friday night and coming back Sunday afternoon. Longer trips in the holidays to the South Island — Arthurs Pass and North-West Nelson. Once a climbing trip to Mt Cook national park. I got more experienced and enjoyed every trip I went on.
Since coming back from overseas I haven't tramped as often. Lately it's been a tramp every two years or so. But each one brings that sense of anticipation, and that slightly nervous feeling the night before you leave, lying awake in bed wondering how it will turn out, thinking about what could go wrong. And each one has probably meant more to me, as I get older, and have less time and more cares. Bill, who've I've gone on my last few tramps with, thinks he'd give up basketball if he had to make a choice between tramping and playing basketball. It's not a choice I want to make at all — but basketball does take place every weekend for 5 months of the year.
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Maungahuka hut
This is the hut we'll be staying at on the second night of our tramp. Probably still no snow!
Journals and blogs that I read regularly
Raising Hell
Feral Living
Hippycritical
Udder
My Life in 12 Point Font
Journal of a Writing Man
Some Jingle Jangle Morning
The Last Girl Scout
Potatoe.com
Journallife.com
Window to my Soul
Chickybabe
Sorabji.com
Yesterday's Makeup
Fifteen Milliliters
Fly Away
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Photo of tunnel copyright Bernd Klumpp, available from istockphoto.com