Day Sixty One (24 February)

This was the day that Captain Australia finally made it to the Victorian border, which was the beginning of the end for the (practice?) BIG WALK.

Physically, I was still doing OK – those pains in the soles of my feet were still a bit nagging, but I wrote it off as adapting to the new insoles I got in Merimbula.

(Now, I think it’s more likely nerve damage)

I woke up at 2:30am, before the sparrows had even started farting.

It was pelting down rain outside, and I’d had more weird dreams about the end of the world.

In the dreams, I was always a survivor, finding ways to push forward, even help others, overcome the panic of the Apocalypse-of-the-day (in recent weeks there had been dreams of demonic forces, flood, catastrophic earthquake).

I’ve read a bit about the dream symbology of it, and it’s a mixed bag.

The common theme seems to be that if you’re surviving the apocalypse, it’s your mind impacted by times of profound change, and hope, renewal or rebirth.

That feels about right 🙂

I was able to go back to sleep, the intensely driving rain was actually kind of hypnotic against the tarp. (Which, even with the plugged holes, resisted the storm pretty well).

It cleared around sunrise, and I woke to an eerie mist. The area I’d slept had been ravaged by fire, it was all new growth saplings and older dead trees.

I’ll need a better camera for next time – the vista a woke to was haunting, magical. But it just didn’t translate in the camera of my dodgy old waterlogged iPhone 7.

I reckon I was still about 20km or so from the border, maybe a little more – so with my flag up, and hair in a nifty pony-tail, I started the day’s march.

I did have a couple of encounters, but they were more along the lines of “what the hell are you doing out here walking alone and in this weather ?”, not the enthusiastic awareness I’d been greeted with on the South Coast.

For the most part it was a long and solitary day.

In some of the pictures you’ll see me pointing at the sky (massive, oppressive clouds), or making frustrated faces (it seemed like every time I sat down for a little rest, the skies opened up on me).

The weather wasn’t kind that day, but nor was it too horrible, just constant light rain with few little breaks.

It’s almost like, by depriving me of rest, the weather was propelling me to the border, saying “get it done old fella”

(Ha, maybe Uncle Phil would say this is exactly what happened)

Before the border, I did come to a shelter, and got to take a nice one hour rest (the skies had truly opened up too, it was pretty good timing).

I was musing about whether to just stay still and wait out the weather, but it was pretty unrelenting, so it was a case of back-on with the poncho, and hit the road, Jack.

(and dont you come back no more, no more, no more no more)

It was late afternoon by the time I finally made it.

I might be a bit child-like, but I think the “proclamation video” down the bottom is pretty funny.

I had absolutely zero phone service, was exhausted, and was totally ad-libbing, so I recorded a video right there on the border.

My personal favourite is #2, the fact that my first act of Overlord may be to do a little poo – but its not to be taken symbolically.

I didn’t like that bloody swastika on the roadsign at the border though, that really put me in a foul mood.

Yes, the world has teeth.

But the only way to solve our problems is to team up. To build consensus. That whole you’re the badguy I’m the goodguy approach just breeds more war.

After crossing the border, I walked for ages looking for a place to sleep. Driving rain, exhaustion, eventually I settled on a relatively safe bit of high-bush, and fell into a dreamless sleep.