ENDURANCE, A VISIT TO THE AUSTRALIAN BUSH

ENDURANCE, A VISIT TO THE AUSTRALIAN BUSH.

If God had wanted humans to bush walk, he would have made our skin thicker, so the leeches could not suck our blood, the soles of our feet tougher , so that after hours of traipsing through the bush , our feet didn't feel like a battered piece of fish. He would also have given us the ability to exude a perspiration with a smell which would give any fly repellent a run for its money

As you have by now discovered, I am not a great lover of the bush. Put me in the city and I can shop till I drop, drink coffee until I'm cappuccinoed (is that an actual word?  well it is now. ) out and walk a hundred miles. Place me in that wide open space, namely the Australian bush, and I am a lost soul. Try to convert me? Never. I have had the best try. 

“ You will reinvent yourself in the bush” they try to tell me. When that doesn't work they get down to the hard sell, home hitting stuff. My health. Inhale that fresh air I am told, and my body will thank me. Nice try. I will take my chances in the pollution of the city, where if I want to go to the toilet I only have to walk ten feet, not squat in unknown territory, my bottom a feast for any beast who is game enough to take a bite. No thank you, and isn't it the way, the morning after you have drunk copious amounts of fluids, Murphys Law is up to his old tricks again.

Why would one of sound mind and body torture what is referred to as a shrine? Anybody who has ever been a victim to stinging nettles will hasten to agree, it is not the most exhilarating experience to suffer. Easy to avoid in my eyes, keep out of the bush. Stay on cement footpaths, and if you need to feel the open space and free your spirit for a while, visit the Botanic Gardens, a park, or even a friends overgrown garden.

Now I am well aware that by now you will be calling me a cynic. But I know my pain threshold , and bushwalking pushes this threshold way past its limit. Maybe a glimpse of koala in a tree will make me coo, or the viewing of a colourful rosella in flight will make me go aahh. This oohs and ahh will not make up for the ouches as I am bitten by bugs, and the screams as I trip and sprain my ankle on another branch.

I love gnarly trees intimidating me from above and the wild brumbies moving freely through my campsite. I love the smell of the bush and the rainbow colours of the flowers. I smile at the joeys in the mother kangaroos pouches and the tiny birds stealing breadcrumbs at my feet. I love the fresh morning air and the dew on the grass as I blindly trample to the toilet in the middle of the night. But, I hate the flies mulling around my food and the march flies taking large bites of flesh from my leg. I hate the midnight walks to the smelly pit toilet, undignifyingly carrying toilet paper in my hand. I hate the dirt under my nails and the frizz in my hair. I hate the scratches from sticks. A princess I may be but my relationship with the Australian bush will always be love/hate. I will continue to endure it, I will continue to grit my teeth. You can take the girl out of the city, but you cannot take the city out of the girl.