ALL QUIET ON THE WESTERN FRONT

I've been quiet since we left Cascade Locks about 11 days ago. The 'bug' hit me a few days after it hit Neil so we had about 4 days off the trail just resting (and waiting for a resupply box that would never come). And then I discovered the beauty of audio books for this hike. I've managed to listen to The Great Gatsby, The Case Against Sugar (not recommended when you're trying to eat in excess of 3000 calories a day), started Guns, Germs and Steel and 1984 (though Orwell seems like an author best read and not listened to) and ... wait for it ... How to Rewire your Anxious Brain. It's like going back to the days of my Honours thesis ... I should just go into a cage and shock myself and my amygdala like my poor rats. I most recently finished All Quiet on the Western Front. A beautifully horrific account of a lost and misunderstood generation of boys robbed of their youth and existence. Dead or alive. 

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We got back on the trail on 2 August with a comfortable albeit elevated 16 miles. Our spirits improved over the following days, wearing in our new shoes and with knowledge that olive oil was now on the menu (for Neil to efficiently keep his calories up). A new sense of "we can do this" had come over us... and there was a famous breakfast buffet at Timberline Ski Lodge to make matters even better. 

We made it to Timberline in good time and set up our tent in the dirt in the woods and then set off to warm ourselves with wine and beer and meat in the iconic lodge and mix with the clean folk. We then hobbled back to the tent for sleep and breakfast buffet dreams. I'm not usually a breakfast buffet person but this was divine... fresh berry smoothies, fresh waffles and baked banana bread; though not sure about the "links" and the "biscuits and gravy".

We next stumbled across Big Lake Youth Camp several days later... it's this ridiculously lush holiday camp for Seven Day Adventist and boy do they feed you well (for a small donation). Another 2 thumbs up. Vegetarian delight!

We have passed though some incredible scenery over the last 11 days. Lava fields, lush meadows with butterflies, burned out forests, lakes that wink at you and lure you in. While you spend a lot of time looking out you spend more time looking in. You are alone with you thoughts for about 12 hours day, otherwise you're either eating or sleeping (or trying to get clean, in my case, not Neil's). As kids we used to drive from Warren or Dubbo to Woolgoolga (near Coffs Harbour) for Christmas most years. I think it was a 9 to 12 hour drive. Mum and Dad would wake us at 4am (or what felt like 4am) and all six of us would huddle into the Ford wagon for what was a day of hell. Especially for Mum and Dad. We would eat our one stick of lifesavers or butter menthols in about 10 minutes and whinge the rest of the way... in the years when our car had cigarette trays in the back of the seats, we would kick and scratch them... just to be annoying. We listened to Joesph and his Technicolor Dream Coat on repeat. There was only one tape deck and no individual DVD screen in the 80s. This melody of memories comes back to me often as it's the same length of time I walk each day now... I wonder how on earth Mum and Dad got through these trips with 4 kids.

I spend a lot of time thinking about Dad. About my family. Where they are and what they would be doing at certain times of the day. But mostly about Dad. I was listening to some recordings I had on my phone and there was one of dad and I talking, I had just put Judy Garland's "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" on and Dad was talking about the goosebumps that had just come over him as the song played. He always loved that song and just before I left to come over for this hike he would sing or whistle that and "Santa Claus is Coming to Town", on repeat. Delighting in another world and time. I have a few Beatles songs on my mp3 player and they always remind me of Dad, particularly Lennon's "Imagine" and McCartney's "Hey Jude". We took Dad to see Paul McCartney last year in Brisbane. It was so wonderful to see music open him and the words effortlessly come to him. 

Some days I feel guilty for not being at home with him and better supporting mum. I feel helpless. Some days I feel sad. And some days I feel nothing at all. Then I feel guilty...But there is a lot of help and support out there. It's finding the courage to be ok with these emotions and finding a way to reach out. I feel for my Mum. I cannot begin to know the depth of her pain. The silver lining of such a horrid disease is that it has brought us all closer together. We are kinder to each other. We try and celebrate each other. I remember when Dad was first diagnosed in 2015 I had this irrational albeit understandable desire to get married, to have a child, to tick some of "those boxes" so Dad would be a part of those moments. But what really matters is just being part of his life. 

Stay safe

J x

Ps. We ran into ex-Darwin friends Kate and Duncan heading north bound. An amazing hour of chatting and sharing stories!