Paddling out of Windang

This is the map I should have had for paddling around Lake Illawarra because neither the nautical chart nor the topographic map reveal how shallow Lake Illawarra is. It is a big lake, almost 10 kilometres long from end to end, but the average depth is only 1.9 metres and at low tide, large areas of the lake are too shallow even for a kayak to float. That makes me 0 for 2 with maps on the women’s paddle trip out of Windang, but, in my defence, one map was simply lost in the bowels of my car.

Our plan had been to convene at Windang where the local council runs a very nice caravan park fronting Lake Illawarra on one side and Windang Beach on the other on Sunday evening preparatory to three days paddling. It’s the second women’s trip I had organised, the first was in February 2023 and we had some challenging conditions, northerly, southerly, rain, sun. The full gamut.

It’s always a challenge finding a suitable location. Ideally, we would cruise along the coast carrying our gear and making beach or bush camps giving a short few days trip the feeling of “expedition paddling.” As a side note, I dislike the term “expedition paddling.” It always seems a bit of an overstatement when you are off for 5 or 7 days along a familiar bit of coast with the ice-cream shop within easy strolling distance. Whatever you call it, coastal cruising or expedition paddling, there is always the stealth camping, where you feel a tiny bit criminal, and, it’s very hard on the south coast to find a good place to land and camp without encountering at least some surf. I don’t mind surf landings, they get easier and easier with practice, but I know that some people really don’t like them and, truthfully, they are the one hazard of sea kayaking that is hard to avoid. You can always detour around bommies and gauntlets; surf landings not so much. Additionally, when the trip is booked in advance, the weather can be a fickle creature. You might get stellar paddling weather or terrifying conditions to challenge an expert.

Windang was a good choice for a base for three days paddling. Far enough north to be out of the area where I frequently paddle but not too long a drive and, accessible to women from the north, the west and the south. My plan was to meet Monday morning for our first paddle, spend two nights at Windang, for three days paddling and two days accommodation. I sleep better at home! But, one of my friends rightly pointed out that an early start might be good on Monday morning as December weather commonly features the standard summer northeasterly winds which can be quite strong. This seemed a very good point and, if we all met on Sunday night, we could discuss the next day’s paddling in person thus making consensus decision making much easier. There is a time and place for autocracy – during rescues for example – but consensus decision making seems better most of the time. Not only is it not my business to tell you what to do, the converse is true, and risk is individual and should not be forced on anyone.

There was, however, a big accident on the highway heading north which resulted in an eight hour road closure so only four of us made it to Windang on Sunday evening (and the fourth was not paddling due to an injury). I had specifically taken my laptop computer along to enable the democratic process. Not only do I have all the marine charts and topographic maps for NSW on my laptop, but we would be able to look at the forecast together and avoid the inevitable “my forecast” debate. So, instead of sitting around a table deciding on the following days paddle, we had to make multiple telephone calls to talk with the people not in attendance.

Monday the forecast was for the standard summer northeasterly although I will say the wind arrived later and with less intensity than normal for a summer’s day. But, the land had cooled a lot over the previous few days and without hot land to draw the onshore breeze a lower than normal northeasterly is not unexpected. We decided to paddle one way from Windang to Kiama. The dreaded car shuttle. I avoid these as much as possible. I’d rather paddle than drive, but sometimes with some groups they make sense and this was one of those times.

It was a pleasant and uneventful paddle. Out Tom Thumb entrance at Windang – there must be a story behind that name – past Windang Island (not really an island) and south to Bushranger Bay. I had forgotten that Bushranger Bay is all rock with no sand to land. I had checked the imagery before this trip but it is so blurry that the grey rocks could be mistaken for grey sand. Bushranger Bay is sheltered, once you paddle in through the reasonably narrow mouth, but landing is difficult and would require lifting boats onto rocks while staggering across slippery seaweed covered reef. The sort of place where someone could easily take a tumble and smash either themselves or the kayak, or even both. We stood in the water instead.

What we should have done is paddle into Maloneys Bay on the south side of Bass Point. Although this bay looks exposed to the southeasterly swell, it actually provides an easy landing. The beach you land on faces east and a deep water channel into a sheltered bay means the landing is safe and easy.

That evening, the entire group was at Windang which meant we could all look at the forecast and the maps together. The forecast, which had been stable for a number of days (always makes the forecast a bit more trustworthy in my opinion) was for southerly winds increasing early in the morning to reach 20 knots by 9 or 10 am. Twenty knots is a pretty strong wind and, even though wind is measured on a ratio scale, the effect on the paddler is not linear. 20 knots with an experienced group on a downwind run can be great fun, but rescues become difficult and paddling in these conditions can feel like an “every man for themselves” scenario. It’s tempting, when you really want to do something to adopt the “Barney world view” where you distort reality to fit your purpose. This is how folks get caught in avalanches, and exactly how I have been caught myself. If you are honest, smart and reflective (it probably takes all three) you learn that you should hope for the best but plan for the worst. A 20 knot wind may not eventuate, but you should be prepared nonetheless.

Only one paddler was keen for an outing on the ocean in the forecast conditions, the rest of us were happy to paddle around the lake. I rarely paddle on enclosed water, which made a lake paddle on sunny day a treat for me. By the time we started paddling, it was actually quite windy, but we had a really nice paddle around three small islands in Lake Illawarra although the low tide and blustery wind stymied a longer paddle. I embarrassed myself by doing a rather poor rolling session after lunch – my worst ever as I missed quite a few rolls when I normally never miss any! Sometimes, the brain gets in the way of performance and all that thinking about things makes them worse. It was only when I came ashore at the end that I noticed that my two piece paddle was spinning around the joiner which had a detrimental effect on the climbing angle of my blade. However, I think my head was coming up as well.

Our final paddle day, we toured around the Five Islands off Wollongong launching from Fishermans Beach. This is a good spot to launch from as it is very sheltered with a gentle spilling wave, but the difficulty is finding a good parking spot without a desperate carry. At the north end, a long sloping ramp descends to the beach. Great for kayak trolleys but the only parking is on-street. The south end has a spacious car park but descent to the beach is via a narrow walkway and a long set of steps. We did the south end option, which meant K and I had to carry all four kayaks down to the beach while also lifting them completely over our heads to negotiate the narrow walkway lined by high hand rails. Good stability training but a bit tedious!

The additional benefit of launching south of Port Kembla Harbour is that you stay away from the main shipping area where big container ships come and go. K had her radio tuned to the appropriate station and was monitoring traffic, and, one large container ship did exit the harbour while we were paddling but the container ships head north not south so the islands can be explored without worrying about becoming a hood ornament on a container ship.

Viva La Revolution

The revolution will be complete when the language is perfect. George Orwell.

If you cannot keep up with what is acceptable language, know that you are not alone. The latest document out of Victoria (where else?) indicates that the most acceptable term for the race of people who were living in Australia before it was colonised by the British is Aboriginal. Are you surprised? I am, but shouldn’t be because the important thing to remember (which isn’t that “words have actions” – what does that even mean?) is that the purpose is the revolution. Aboriginal which had become a racial slur is now the preferred term. The circle is complete.

I have a knee jerk reaction to the language police because any time we begin to censor the use of descriptive words because of feelings we have abdicated our responsibility to think. Not just to think logically, but to think at all. Feelings are temporary and fleeting emotions. Feelings vary on the day, the person, the social situation. Feelings are not real or tangible. My feelings will differ from your feelings, and neither of those feelings has any empirical truth behind it. Most often the language police are deliberately trying to obfuscate reality because reality at this particular juncture does not suit the agenda. Control language and you control thought, or at least you think you do.

The key tell that people have fallen under the spell of the totalitarian regime (see Orwell’s prescient novel 1984) is when they begin to use “isms” to explain things. Ableism, racism, sexism, ageism, these are the most common isms, but the more we need to control thought the more isms will arise. The isms have spread out from the universities, where the Marxist concept of “intersectional oppression” is postulated to define all human interactions through government to society as a whole. Unfortunately, most regular folk who accuse friends and acquaintances of isms do not understand the full ramifications of acceptance and promulgation of intersectional theory for society as a whole. Isms exist to convince virtually everyone in the system that they are powerless victims of an oppressor, and to become a victim is the ultimate loss of personal autonomy. In a world where virtually everything is illegal, our only freedom is our personal autonomy.

If you need more proof of the absurdity of characterising people by isms, scan the Victorian Government page on intersectionality. There you will find 20 characteristics – only a partial list! - which reflect oppression. This list covers every single human who has ever existed! We are all both oppressor and oppressed, a concept which defies logic but supports the continuous revolution.

If you think I’m a bit tightly wound about something that does not really reflect everyday life consider this conversation which I would not have believed possible if it had not actually happened to me:

Interlocutor: “You cannot use the term “X” to describe this person.

Me: “In this group is this person “X”?

Interlocutor: “Yes but you cannot use that term.”

Me: “Is “X” an accurate description of our current reality?”

Interlocutor: “Yes, but you must describe reality in a different way using “Y.”

Me: “Is “Y” simply a euphemism for “X”?

Interlocutor: “Yes”

Me: “Then why don’t I just use “X”?”

Interlocutor: “Because using “X” is an Xism and only bad people use “X”. Worthy people use “Y”.”

 

If you feel confused by this shape-shifting conversation that is exactly the point. This kind of dialogue does not exist to bring clarity or even consensus to an issue. The point of the conversation is to show the respondent that the interlocutor occupies the unquestionable sanctity of the unimpeachable moral high ground.

For Want of a Map (or buckle up this is a long one)

I found my carefully laminated map of the Five Islands off Port Kembla under the seat of the car a full day after it was needed. Holding the map in my hands I wondered if this one sheet of paper could have prevented what followed or was that putting too much significance into a simple two dimensional representation of reality?

Teaching GPS navigation in the winter rain in Nelson, BC

Back in the days when I taught backcountry ski travel in avalanche terrain, I frequently exhorted my fellow travellers to “check the map.” The map allows you to recognise avalanche terrain before you enter it; a proposition far safer than continuing to ski blindly ahead until you are standing on a convex roll in the middle of a big avalanche slope under a hanging cornice with no safe exit point. With good map reading skills mysterious terrain becomes known, and known risks can be evaluated. That evaluation does not preclude knowingly entering risky terrain. The best backcountry skiing is in avalanche terrain, just as the best paddling is in wave washed locations, but risk should be evaluated as completely as possible before committing. Escape routes should be planned, and everyone in the group should enter the risky zone with the knowledge that they can cope with the worst possible consequences, not merely the best case scenario.

Pondering whether it is safe to ski out into the middle of a massive slide path,

Kootenay Pass, BC

The most difficult risk to assess is the classic “low probability high consequence” event. Most of the time snow is stable and no avalanches occur, just as most waves are smaller and manageable, but every so often, a pocket of deeply unstable snow is encountered – unstable enough to rip the entire slope - or a wave twice as high as average rolls across a rocky reef. In those instances, it is not always possible to avoid high consequence events. Risk, of course, is also a function of capacity, and capacity, sadly (no matter what the language police propose) is a function of age. Older people have slower reflexes, less power, and can be catastrophically injured by minor events.Which does not mean that older people don’t get to continue taking risks. I’m over 60, I lead climb, I ride a mountain bike at speeds where I have only modest control, I paddle on the ocean through surf and swells. These are all good things, a life with no risk is no life at all.

When assessing risk however, our first assessment needs to be of our own ability. Do we actually have the physical capacity to climb the route, ski the slope or paddle through a breaking wave? What will happen if I fall while lead climbing? Is the fall safe, on solid gear and into air, or am I 15 metres out from a dodgy piece above a big leg and back breaking ledge? If the slope rips, can I ski out to the side and escape the worst of the avalanche? More important, because most people do not ski out of big avalanches, if I am buried, can my friends quickly locate me and dig me out? If the wave breaks, can I reflexively respond as needed with a brace, or a power stroke? Can everyone in the group respond appropriately, and, if the worst happens, are we in a position to effect a rescue?

A friend triggered this avalanche and sustained

 a compound lower leg fracture

When I lived in Nelson, BC, the heart of “champagne powder skiing,” a couple of times a season, I would take a group of women backcountry ski touring. The women were less gung-ho than my usual male companions and wanted to ski good powder with low risk. The trips were great fun, and, in truth, a nice break for me from continually skiing big slopes with the big boys with big consequences. But, there was a difference in how I approached those trips. I never expected the women to be able to either find me or dig me out in the event of an avalanche. I skied as if I was alone. Which means that I was as absolutely sure as you can be that the slopes we skied were safe.

Ladies ski day

What does all this mean and what does it have to do with the Five Islands and a lost map? Simply, it means if you plan to paddle a route, you and you alone are responsible for your actions and you must be willing to wear the consequences alone. I am more than willing, within the limits of my ability to stand by and attempt to render assistance if something goes awry; but if you commit, you should commit with the full knowledge that you and you alone are responsible for the consequences.

Effecting a rescue in easy conditions 

after an unintentional capsize

Below are a couple of images showing Red Point (on the mainland) and the Five Islands. This is the view you would get if you had a map! Or could even remember the map which you had glanced at the night before. A bigger island (handily called Big Island) separated from the mainland by two ocean gaps – one between a small rocky islet (also very handily called Rocky Islet) and Big Island and one between Rocky Islet and Red Point. The imagery indicates that, in most conditions, the most easterly gap, between Rocky Islet and Big Island has the deepest water. In fact, even in bigger conditions (the second image) there is a safe passage between Big Island and Rocky Islet. Depending on skill, a safe passage may also be effected through the gap between Rocky Islet and Red Point, but a cursory glance indicates this is the riskier option.

Satellite imagery in average conditions, 

blue line is proposed route

The nautical chart – a snippet of which is shown below – is less clear. Both passages are shown as having a similar water depth and both passages have bomboras marked. The eastern most passage, is a little bit wider and might be preferable as a kayaker can point straight into the prevailing swell, but the final assessment will need to be made on the water; the chart can only provide so much information. Our route is marked in red (it’s my track from my Garmin watch). The blue track indicates the route that was proposed as we bobbed in our kayaks a couple of hundred metres to the northwest of Rocky Island.

Big conditions at the Five Islands

Why were we making this assessment from such a distance? I’m not completely sure! I was the last to launch and simply paddled out to meet up with the pod of paddlers at the intersection of the blue and red lines where they had been bobbing in the swell for some minutes. The reef between Rocky Islet and Red Point was breaking and, at times completely “closing out.” The passage, after all is less than 90 metres wide and has a bombora slap in the middle. Possibly the paddlers felt safer grouping up a fair distance from the reef rather than closer in where our viewpoint would have been better, but this may be splitting hairs.

Actual and proposed route,

as best as I can determine

Immediately upon my arrival at the “paddle pod,” one paddler proposed that we paddle the route of the blue line. We would, she told me, probably have to back paddle or hold our position while a few larger waves rolled over the reef to avoid being caught in breaking swells. Additionally, after crossing the line of breakers, we would have to turn and paddle beam on to the ocean swell for a distance before turning again and pointing into the ocean swell. However, I could be assured that where we would be beam on, the waves would be merely cresting not breaking and this particular paddlers risk assessment was that the proposed route was well within the parties capability and, additionally, this one paddler would take full responsibility for another member of the paddling party.

Another view of the Five Islands

Now, I will admit that this seemed like a fine line to thread to me. Not impossible by any means and completely safe for some paddlers, but, I would hope that any paddler choosing this option would be able to react quickly, reflexively and with sufficient power to manage any breaking waves. Did this final sentence describe every paddler in our party? Not by a long shot, and that is not ageism, sexism or any other ism that the PC (politically correct) police care to throw about, that is simply reality.

I admit to being caught off guard. I was being pressured to make a decision immediately upon meeting up with the paddle pod and I had not had a chance to look at the proposed route for any length of time, and, I did not have that accursed map, which would have shown at a glance that a mere 500 metres to the north was another larger passage! I thought briefly about getting my mobile phone out, as I have both the topographic map and the nautical chart on my phone, but it was a bit bumpy to be messing about with delicate electronics. Why was my ageing brain unable to pull out of its depths an image of the map which I had quickly checked the previous night on my computer and why did I feel so pressured to make such a quick decision in the first place?

My decision was made in some haste and one of the most important lessons for me from this event is that I should, if possible, take more time to make decisions. In this instance, we were in a safe location, it was early in the morning, the weather and sea conditions were stable, and I could with ease and safety take a few minutes to evaluate all our options and make a considered decision. Which is not to say my decision would have changed, but I would – perhaps – have been able to communicate the reasons for my decision with more diplomacy. That is a perhaps because I am a very poor communicator! I can’t guarantee these are my exact words, but, it’s close enough “if we paddle that route every paddler needs to be able to put some power on if needed and I am not sure that describes our entire group.”

Busting out of Little River, Nadgee Wilderness

My paddle is in a terrible position

PC: DB

It’s probably obvious to everyone (anyone?) reading this that one paddler was very keen and one paddler was willing to follow the keen paddler anywhere but might not be able to pull out the required power and agility should things go pear shaped. The keen paddler said they would take full responsibility for the least strong member of our group. I had and have no problem with adults deciding on their own level of risk and acting accordingly. However, I also saw this as a potential low probability high consequence event (although I am not convinced the probability was actually that low) which is an instance where decisions should be made with the worst case rather than best case scenario in mind.

To say things got heated would be to say that the sun can be warm in the middle of summer, an understatement. I said I was not willing to accept that level of risk for one member of the party, but I was completely happy for the two paddlers to go through as long as they were cognisant that, as they paddled through the gap, they were responsible for themselves. I assured them that I would do my very best to effect a rescue should that be required but I could make no guarantees that a rescue would be possible or completely timely.

Rescue at the Tollgate Islands

Things got heated. I felt a great deal of pressure to accede to the keen paddlers plan. I did at one point say “I will not be bullied.” A statement that is likely too strong for the circumstances. But, there is history here and history is hard to forget even if one has long since forgiven. It seemed to me, and I could be completely wrong about this, that the keen paddler was willing to take responsibility for the other paddler as long as I was also involved but not really willing to take responsibility if only two paddlers were to proceed. The antithesis of “skin in the game,” and, to throw in another incredibly overused metaphor, the rubber meets the road when skin is in the game.

The one sensible paddler in all of this had, while discussions were ongoing, simply paddled north, noted the wide open channel between Rocky Islet and Big Island and as we regrouped preparatory to paddling around the island from the north shared with us the information that she had been watching the eastern most passage for a period of time and no waves had broken through there. It was a completely risk free route, just some bumpy water and current, and we paddled through with ease! How foolish were we to debate a course of action when we had not even made the most cursory examination of all our available options.

What can be learnt from this long, long story with too few photos and possibly no point at all:

• Everyone should have a map. Had anyone else in the party had a map none of this would have happened. With only one map in the party when that map got lost, we had zero maps!

• Assess all options before making a decision. If that means paddling 300 or 500 metres, paddle 300 or 500 metres.

• I understand completely the desire to do something, heck, I am one of the most goal oriented people around, but if you are damned and determined to do something, you might have to go alone.

• If you are unwilling to go alone or with only one other person, you don’t have skin in the game. Take responsibility for that.

• This lesson is particularly for me: take your time, make a considered decision and do your best to communicate that decision rationally and carefully.

• Agree on the rules of engagement ahead of time. Most outdoor parties have an unspoken rule that any single member has veto if risk is deemed significant. It is likely better to make this clear ahead of time, particularly if you suspect that some members of your party do not operate under the same assumption.

I understand chafing against risk assessments. I have done so my entire life, particularly when I was backcountry skiing with the women. I never took those women anywhere near an avalanche slope and yet, sometimes one woman or another would decide that the slope we were planning to ski was unsafe. I might explain the risk again – perhaps in a different way with different words - but it is absolutely not my job to push anyone to do something they perceive as risky to life and limb. We all make mistakes and, if your mistake breaks someone you live with those consequences forever. Most of the things we do in life are simply not worth that.

Old People, Young People and the Interminable Closures

There is a lot less people sitting around the picnic tables at Greenpatch campground in Booderee National Park for the annual South Coast/ACT sea paddlers Christmas event than previous years. Some regular attendees are busy elsewhere, however three friends are not in attendance due to serious health issues. We are laughing and talking and enjoying each other’s company yet there is a sombre pall over the group. It’s only when your health is gone that you realise how great a gift good health was. Don’t wait do that thing that you have always wanted to do, just don’t wait.

Doug and I didn’t even have kayaks with us, which is unusual. Most years, we do one or two really good kayak trips over the Christmas event. We’ve come up the coast in our new van that is not fully camperized – truthfully, it’s not even half camperized yet but it does have some wiring, batteries, a couple of little fans (a blessing as it is so humid), a nicely covered and insulated floor and a mattress but no roof racks.

We had spent the hot and humid part of the day on an 18 kilometre walk to Stony Creek and a couple of unnamed lookouts about a kilometre NE of Steamers Beach. These were the only tracks we had not walked in the National Park but Stony Creek Road was closed, because this is Australia and something is always closed. Instead of some driving and short walks that we would have done if Stony Creek Road was accessible, we did a long walk that included the bushwack which is mandatory when the road is closed. Such is life in the nanny state that is Australia.

We got down to Stony Creek and washed the sweat off in a small pool where cooler fresh water mixed with warmer salt water. I’ve paddled into Stony Creek and I remember the deep water (deep being a relative term) channel being very narrow. Basically, you have to paddle in right beside a rock cliff with a breaking reef on the other side. It was really interesting to look at the channel from land on a day with northerly conditions. It looked a wee bit scary and I certainly wouldn’t be paddling my composite boat in under those conditions.

The following day we drove out to Nowra to meet my newly red pilled nephew to rock climb. My nephew climbs the way he talks – quickly, abruptly, forcefully. There’s a lot a younger more dynamic climber can teach an older static climber, but the opposite also holds true. Staying alive and injury free is a pretty worthwhile lesson and leaping from jug to jug only works until it doesn’t.

Why Ideology Doesn't Help You Roll a Kayak

The central role is played by experiments…… this requires the ability to tolerate uncertainty ….. and being wrong most of the time. Dave Macleod. Clocking Up Moves Isn’t Enough to Improve at Climbing.

We’ve entered the anti-science age of ideology where expert opinion is more important than what works. Which is largely why, enshittification, is also the word of the year for 2024. Many things are getting a bit worse, mostly because ideology has trumped utility. Non-ideologues can simply dump any theory that does not work and move on to the next experiment, but, if your status and identity is wrapped up in ideology then you have no choice but to plough forwards, like a bull moose in the deep snows of northern Canada, up to your neck in faceted snow and getting hungrier by the day, but still a slave to ideology. 

Ideologues don’t care if you win, lose, or place DFL (dead fucking last), as long as the ideology remains intact. The idea never fails only the person attempting to implement the idea. It’s the classic “vegan harder” of the early 2000’s. Remember those years: when the ideologues told us veganism would save your life and health but, for the people who got sicker, weaker and even fatter on a vegan diet, the answer was always “vegan harder.”

Some of the most egregious examples of ideology come from the nutrition world where “very experienced dietitians” produce dietary plans that literally make people vomit during their race and then make the preposterous claims that the plan didn’t work because the athletes heart rate was too high. Well, wakey, wakey, it’s a race, the point is to win, not doddle around at your grandmothers pace and finish DFL. Your plan, underwritten by your ideology didn’t work. Experiment, find something that does.

Yesterday was the first surf and roll the kayaks day of the season. As happens at the beginning of every season, I was pleased to find my roll was intact, although sweep rolling with a wing blade is so much easier than using a flat blade. The wing gives so much lift that the roll is effortless. I had one failure on my off-side with my flat blade, but that gave me the opportunity to confirm I can still do a re-entry and roll. I got up, the usual slow, heavy roll and immediately the kayak was so unstable with that amount of water in the cockpit. My flat blade rolls need work, especially on my off-side. I’ll experiment with different techniques, because there would be nothing stupider than continuing to fail because my ideology rendered me incapable of logical thought.

Unburdened By What Has Been: Gooandra Hut and Hill

 You have not arrived. Keep searching. And be grateful for having the freedom to do so. Mark Twight.

We took our new van all the way to Bullock Hill campsite in Kosciusko National Park for a couple of nights. Seven hundred kilometres for three nights and way, way, way too far. Our drive to activity ratio was so bad that I could not bear to calculate it. Why did we go? Well, for that, you can blame cognitive dissonance.

Like most people, except perhaps literally Hitler (and, no matter what the far left tells you Trump is not Hitler), I like to think of myself as a reasonable person who is willing make personal sacrifices if it helps another human. The rubber of course, hits the proverbial road when the personal sacrifice looms ahead and you have to choose to willingly sacrifice time and money to act in accordance with what a reasonable person would do. This is the beauty of luxury beliefs and why they plague society. Signalling your position as an empathetic and caring person comes with zero skin in the game. Put skin in the game, and, if you aren’t careful, you can find yourself feeling just a wee bit resentful of how cognitive dissonance causes you to act against your own best interest. Resentment, like anger is not a good emotion to carry about with you, the load becomes unbearably heavy very quickly. Luckily, once we realise we are not our emotions, we can let them go and, to quote Kamala Harris “be unburdened by what has been” – although I could never understand (did anyone?) what she was banging on about.

So, it was cognitive dissonance that drove us to drive (see how I did that?) on Sunday, with peak traffic up the highway to Canberra, all the way to the Snowy Mountains highway and Denisons Campground where we arrived around 7:00 pm feeling flogged by traffic, driving and the push to get the van into some kind of usable shape before we left. Denisons is a pretty campground, an open area dotted with big gums, wombat holes and macropods. We wandered along the Eucumbene River as darkness moved in and there was some relief from the flies. The flies are always bad up at the Snowy Mountains, I’m not sure why, but perhaps the excess of feral horses is one reason. Despite efforts at culling, feral horses are everywhere as are flies and horse shit.

Early the next morning we got back on the road and drove through Kiandra to Bullocks Hill campground where we met M and R. The goal for the day was a walk into Gooandra Hut on the slight height of land between Gooandra Creek and Tantangara Creek. R’s distant ancestors had a grazing lease in the area some time long ago. Lots of people get really interested in their family history at a certain stage of life. Thankfully, I have not reached that stage yet and secretly hope I never will. One of my brothers went through this stage and produced a detailed family history, since lost somewhere in the course of time passing. I feel grateful for that, it’s left me “unburdened by what has been.” Many people who are close to their families get interested in the heritage of their clan, but, more surprising are the number of people who really don’t seem to like their relatives yet investigate proudly back through the generations gaining some satisfaction from their ancestors achievements. There’s nought so queer as folk as the Yorkshire folk would say (my mother is from Barnsley, Yorkshire). I steadfastly believe in the here and now, the only historical place where I have any influence, plus it leaves me “unburdened by what has been.”

But back to Gooandra. P arrived shortly before 9 am and, as a party of five, we set off on a rough bridle (read horse) track that wrapped around a little hillock (which I later walked up on another rough horse trail) to Gooandra Creek and a junction with the main fire trail near Tantangara Plain. The fire road is now a solid gravel road as part of the Snowy Hydro project and only a mere 1.5 kilometres from the Gooandra Hut. The flies were astonishing, but not too, too bad when there was a bit of breeze.

We were a long time at the hut. I wandered downhill on another horse trail and found a good spring with fresh running water, although you would want to treat it well before drinking – the amount of horse shit around is as astonishing as the fly population. I was doing my usual chafing at the bit (a horsey metaphor) at the slow pace so bid the remainder of the party happy travels and took the long way back. This involved walking south along Gooandra Trail to a very old road – visible only as a slight dimple in the surrounding grasslands which I followed north up the course of the Eucumbene River – just a small creek at this elevation. When the dimple ended, I walked uphill across lumpy grasslands but no bush to Gooandra Hill where there is a trig and some kind of government installation. A rough road runs north out to the Snowy Mountains Highway which I followed until it joined the highway and then I walked back across the grasslands to camp not interested in walking on the highway with vehicles swishing past.

The next day, M, R and P drove north for 35 kilometres along a dirt road to Blue Waterholes where they had a short wander about. Doug and I were loathe to get back in the vehicle and cast about for an activity for the day. Without driving, our options were limited to long walks on gravel roads going mostly nowhere special (there are some rivers and huts to walk to) and returning the same way, or driving a short distance up the highway to the Yarrangobillly precinct where there are some limestone caves, a river, a warm spring and some short tourist tracks. We opted for Yarrangobilly and did all the short walks and had a swim in the pool. Back at camp, I found an indistinct horse trail that led up a little hillock behind camp, and the evening passed, thankfully with a decent wind to keep the fly population in check.

Wednesday was a long drive back home, rainy up at the Snowies, but hot and humid down on the coast. Here’s what I learnt from all that driving:

• It’s not always possible to choose what you do unless you are willing to be ruthlessly selfish. I’m pretty selfish, but, apparently not that ruthlessly selfish.
• Kamala Harris is right; it is good to be unburdened by what has been. Let both old and new resentments go. Reality is unchanged by negative attitudes and you and everyone around you will have a better day, week, year, life, by re-framing reality to see the best in people rather than the worst. Excepting Hitler, he was a pretty evil dude.
• It’s good to play with different ideas because there is no hard and fast reality – excepting my previous statement about reality above – and we might find a better way by trying a different idea or, if you will, a different frame.

The Purpose Is The Revolution

The deload week ended yesterday and we went rock climbing. I usually schedule my deload weeks for periods when I am up in Sydney but, after my last trip north, I realised that sleeping only 4 or 5 hours a night, spending hours sitting with my Mum or in traffic, not eating well, and being inundated with city noise, smells and people is actually more stressful on the body than all the training and trips I do at home. I didn’t do nothing, I still trained four days (very easy lifting and climbing just to keep the body moving), I went bouldering and I did an upwind/downwind kayak run, but, it was a true deload week and I felt better for it.

Sometimes, the best thing you can do for yourself is to not do something. This is not how our society works. The experts always tell us about the latest new thing we have to do in order to be healthy, or moral or compassionate or whatever the modish catch phrase is. These goal posts move continually and, if you observe this phenomena, you might realise that the purpose is the revolution and the endless failure of most of us to reach the end point is a feature not a bug.

There are dozens and dozens of examples of this. The latest one I saw was vegetable consumption. Dietitians are now claiming that in order to have a “healthy diet” at least 10 different vegetables must be eaten each day or even each meal. I eat a lot of vegetables, I eat vegetables at every meal (including breakfast), and my lunch time salad is big enough to fill a good sized mixing bowl. I love vegetables, but I’m not healthy because I eat vegetables. I’m healthy because I don’t eat sugar, grains or industrial seed oils. I don’t eat processed foods, and I eat a lot of animal protein. The vegetables are nice but not necessary. What is most important are the things I don’t eat.

Eating 10 different vegetables at each meal has to be peak luxury belief. I counted the number of different vegetables I had in my fridge immediately after my weekly shop. If I double counted (red onions and brown onions were counted as two different types of vegetables) I had 12 different vegetables in my fridge. But here’s the thing: I live in an area with good access to fresh vegetables, I can afford to buy fresh vegetables, I have a massive fridge in which I can store fresh vegetables, I have continuous electricity and running water. I am privileged. And, yet, privileged as I am, the thought of making not just one meal but three meals a day which include 10 different vegetables was overwhelming. This is a goal post that, even with everything stacked in my favour I will never meet. And that’s the point. The average person will never meet the goal posts because as soon as the average person gets close, the elites move the goal posts.

In the wake of the astounding outcome of the recent US presidential election, this is something our political and cultural elite would do well to grapple with. The continual shifting of goal posts on every facet of life which ensure that the average person fails is not sustainable policy. At a certain point, the average him/her or they who just wants to get on with life, is going to issue a very big F**k You (my apologies to those offended by this language) and act accordingly.

Rock Climbing With Round Numbers

 At nine pitches, Doug was ready to quit for the day, while I had fallen apart on pitch eight but recovered a little by pitch nine. Ten pitches however, is such a nice round number, like your typical 50 kilometre day. In pursuit of ten, Doug belayed me while I led the last pitch but, in typical restrained Doug style, he passed on the climb so I cleaned the route on abseil.

I only had three real climbing days in October, and one of those was with my nephew at ClimbFit in Kirrawee. ClimbFit is super fun, and climbing with Mitch who hurls himself up the routes with great enthusiasm but less skill is also super fun, but it’s not climbing outside, and every time I go - which is every time I am in Sydney - I think how much it is not like climbing outside, but still super fun.

So, I got to thinking on the walk out, when was the last time I climbed 10 pitches in a day and how many pitches was an average climbing day when we lived in Nelson and climbed a lot more frequently? What is the point of all these comparisons you might wonder when “comparison is the thief of joy?” Well, comparison when done solely against your previous performance/ability is a measure of how well you are holding back the tide of ageing. Plateau, as the saying goes, is the new PB (personal best) if you are on the dark side of 60. While I did not get out climbing much in October, I did climb a lot more on my home wall and, all the time my forearms and glutes were getting painfully pumped, I was hoping that the training would hold off the inevitable decline in rock climbing performance.

So what does the database show: In July, I did 11 pitches in a day – my notes say I fell off a couple of routes (sad face) – while in May I climbed 15 pitches – but they were mostly short pitches of under 15 metres so they are worth less than a rope stretcher of 30 full metres up the Slocan Valley north of Nelson, BC. But, putting aside pitch length and difficulty and whether or not the routes were sport or traditional, these numbers aren’t bad. In fact, they are pretty good compared to my old Canadian days, bearing in mind we climbed a lot more trad and multi-pitch routes back in North America, both of which consume more time.

So I guess comparison is not all bad but I that might be because on this one metric, things don’t look too grim.