We flew to Launceston after a few mad days. Emma and I ran around like two people who work too much, sit too little and won’t stop until someone turns the music off. So much to think of. What to pack? What to eat and how much? Will it all fit in our packs? Will it be too heavy? And… who needs new socks? Oliver needed new socks. The rest of us did too, but Oliver likes a fresh pair everyday which means he needed seven pairs. Excessive in my opinion, but Oliver does not like crusty socks.
I usually freak out before our outdoor adventures. My pesky mind conjures up all the gruesome and horrible ways our irresponsible habit of dragging our children into the wilderness will ruin our lives, but not this time. This time I was cool as a penguin in an Antarctic winter storm. This family has form. We’ve hiked the West Coast Trail in Canada, the highlands of Iceland and trekked to Annapurna Base Camp in Nepal and all that when Amy and Oliver were still looking up to greet a Shetland pony. I figured sixty-five-kilometres from Cradle Mountain to Lake St Clare would be a stroll to Grandma’s. Continue reading “Overland. With an ‘encore of walking’.”