How strange it is, that now – back in my ‘normal life’ after the walk, sitting down trying to write it up, trying to capture the essence .. I resist that kind of self abnegation, that kind of discipline. Since the walk, I’ve been in a kind of mild collapse, it’s been two months of rest and lazing about. I *know* I need to start getting up early, walking, breathing in each day, because the walk taught me how valuable that is, how precious life is overall. And yet, strangely I resist it, perpetually in a mode of “I’ll start tomorrow”.

Anyway that’s now, I’m talking about then – so let’s go 🙂

That process of surrender and acceptance was crucial to the early walk, a vital part of scouring away who I was and leaving room to fill myself with … well, I was hoping for LIGHT. I had this primitive understanding that I was full of junk: pain, sloth, grief, self regard, and an old school religious person would say I was ‘humbling myself before God’. Maybe so. I was about to meet an old-school religious person in a remote stretch of beach (but more on that soon)

Haha, foolish old man. I did such an awful job of capturing moments. If I’d just kept streaming I would have caught it all on camera, but I was worried about boring you.

You see, about thirty minutes or so in, I fell on my magnificent bum !

This bloke DANNY had contacted me via Facebook saying that he did a show (based from Ipswich) called WEST BREMER RADIO (follow this link if you wan to know more about them).

This was good, because I’d slightly sprained my ankle in my ridiculous fall, and the old boofhead needed a bit of a sit-down.

When I stumbled upon him, he had been bathing in the ocean, using sand as soap, and looked magnificently feral, the picture of health and vitality. He came over with a gentle smile (everything about him was gentle), and we had a long long chat about existence, ethics, and God.

If nothing else, it’s a demonstration of how people of different beliefs and outlooks can and should come together and share. Igor spoke with great dignity about Yeshua (he felt he had a pretty personal relationship with God, and that God is woven into his – and I guess every – life).

I’ve always been spiritually minded. I don’t think we’re bags of meat, nor do I think conventional religions have it quite right. That said, I *do* believe that belief systems are personal, individual outlooks. Sharing them is just for context – because reality, it’s all about personal experience, perspective. We can’t even say with absolute surety that we’re not living in THE MATRIX. As such, it’s paramount to respect other people’s beliefs, ideally share in them, bathe in them, try them on for size.

The radio interview was good for a few reasons – one, it gave me an excuse to sit down and eat my breakfast, and two – it was an early opportunity to start practicing with the media, getting better at articulating my thoughts and goals.

Not so much by the coughing, but by my thoughtlessness.

After a bit of a rest, I hauled myself to my feet and continued onward. I actually loved this next little bit of the Walk, because I was about to DO SOMETHING STUPID. (again) (not the first and not the last)

You see, I came to this inlet. After all the weather, the water was running hard, and although a local man was able to walk across, he was very lightly burdened. With my pack, it was a real risk. When I got in waist high, I could feel the water wanting to tug me over. With the pack on, that could even prove fatal, if I were ridiculously unlucky.

I used to love Byron Bay. Passing through as a child on my first walk, it was a gorgeous little beach town. I’d go back once or twice a year – from ages through 16 to about 19. Camp in scrub or at a caravan park with friends once or twice. It took me back to the adventure of my trek to Sydney. Kinda captured it, in a place.

This time ? Hated it. Sorry if you live there, or love the place, but I hated it, and but for one moment of profound kindness, I couldn’t wait to escape.

I think people are full of light, truly I do. But it’s often locked away and not immediately accessible. People can also be plastic, fake, liars, thieves, hurters, takers, breakers. For me, Byron Bay was completely plastic. Mind you, sorrow had set in again pretty hard, no doubt darkening my outlook – but everywhere I looked I saw young people in these ‘uniforms’, much more a uniform than mine. You know what I mean … like … Kardassian-in-training. Or young guys who go to the gym but only work their shoulders and abs because it’s for vanity not strength.

After putting on dry socks and changing my boots, I was sitting on a bench just quietly crying (missing my family), and these three guys approached me. Young guys, and I only noticed in my periphery, caught up in my self-indulging sadness, but I remember thinking “here we go”, expecting them to start making fun of me).

But they were so lovely. Visiting from points south, they approached and gently asked if I was OK. What was my story. Why was I dressed like a homeless superhero. Why was I crying.

I explained myself as best I could. Laughed off the tears a bit. I felt my sorrow – really FELT it, and I was training myself to feel and show my feelings, I guess – but at the same time a little part of me found it hilarious too. Completely self inflicted. Chose the situation. Chubby old man crying in public.

After chatting to those guys, I actually fired up. I did a hard march for about 5km, also had a few g’days and whatnot, but I went head-down-bum-up. Now, this is embarassing, but tell it, Simon, tell it all. As I was walking, I had this little snatch of lyric in my head, it’s from a song from a movie “ROCKY 4”, the band is Survivor (they did “Eye of the Tiger” from Rocky 3), but it’s .. um .. less great. “Burning Heart”

Hang on, let me drop in a bunch of photos from the next bit, and try and explain what happened, because my phone kept pooping itself and I had zero reception and didn’t really share it well at the time./

So I turned west and started to climb a long and winding hill. My goal was to get out into nature, and off the beaten track a bit. I was in this personal phase of the walk, the crucial breaking down and re-learning, processing my grief and sorrow, living in the moment, learning to accept and have a bit of faith.

I took this road into the hinterlands, and was soon up pretty high, with some lovely views.

If you look at that map, you’ll see the road takes a sharp V, and I realised by jumping a fence, climbing a steep hill and crossing a paddock, I could turn an 8km walk into a 2km detour. Bottom right is the high grass concealing the fence.

The other pictures are the paddock itself (riddled with cow shit) and the barbed wire fences I had to struggle over.

I really regret that the images and video don’t tell the story very well. I was tired, soggy, fatigued, but this was very much a Huck Finn moment for me. Adventure. I clambered a fence, climbed a long steep hill, deftly avoiding multiple cow patties (but not seeing actual cows), and clambered over a high barbed fence to rejoin the road at the top.

After a while the shoulder-to-shoulder McMansions turned into larger properties (still with the Mansions, just more actual land as well). It was a very pretty area to walk through, but nothing like the bush and forest that was to come. It felt a bit like a ‘pacified suburban curated bush experience’. Heh. But again, maybe my mood and mindset were a bit dark and bleak.

It wasn’t in the cards though, because although I found a nice spot – you’ll see in the picture below, big, sturdy trees tucked away on the back of a property. Wet & mosquito-y, but not too bad – after I got the hammock up, I noticed I had no service.

I repacked, got myself together, and continued walking. More pretty, winding country roads, more rain. I got some signal back, still not great, and started looking for little discreetly hidden nests of trees where I could camp.

I actually wound up striking gold in terms of a place to sleep. Just as the sun was starting to set, and I was getting cold and saturated, I found a small country school. It was just a little cluster of buildings, but sheltered (which was lucky, a fierce storm did hit that night), and POWER! Yep, I was able to find an external power outlet near the tuckshop, and get my power pack completely back up to 100%

You’ll see I switched again to my dry, high-vis, ‘waterproof’ Captain Australia outfit. Every time a car headlight would sweep past, I’d glow from the high-vis, so tucked myself away in a small discreet area near the office. It was uncomfortable, but dry.