An overdue blog

It’s about time I blogged.

It is also very cold in Canberra.  I didn’t attempt to go outside until 10am in a bid for it to warm up, but it was still about 10 degrees and gusting 30 kts for my walk up Mount Ainslie.

I took the obligatory photo looking down on the war memorial and Parliament House, and of course one of the airport in the distance.

It was about a 9k round trip from the airport although only an elevation gain of 280m.  It was, however, made a lot worse by choosing to set out immediately after a breakfast of milky coffee and a bacon and egg sandwich, so I had the most terrible stitch for most of the ascent.  Not cool.  I had intended on a fast pace but the combination of a very late night and the stitch made it quite a slow walk.  At least I did it, right?

This afternoon, all we have to do is fly back to Brisbane, which is a lot more friendly than yesterday’s Adelaide and Canberra totally 7.1 hours’ flying!  Then tomorrow morning I plan to climb Beerwah before work.  We end up in Cairns tomorrow night - that will be a lot more pleasant temperature wise.

Flying is actually really fun at the moment.  I get on extremely well with my trainer, and am loving the 717.  If anything, it all seems too easy, and I seem to be like waiting for it to get harder... but it doesn’t.  My final check is on Monday and Tuesday next week with an Adelaide return followed by a Townsville return.

And other than climbing things and flying, I don’t really have much to report.  Lily is at her fluffiest ever...

... and is still loving hiking with me!  I wish I could take her everywhere, but the mountain in the left background of this photo is not safe for a small dog.

That’s me for now... ciao! 

Like father, like daughter

Is it possible to be TOO much like my father?  I hope not, because I like it.  My mother sometimes says that one day I will “grow up” and like foods that Dad dislikes, and in some ways I have.  I eat olives, have a healthy appreciation of steak... but I still abhor things like seafood and boiled eggs.  Sorry, Mum, but you can’t cure me completely.

In other things, though, it’s strange to think how like my father I am.  He posted on his blog about gyms and CrossFit, and I completely agree.  There are few places  where I am happier than in the outdoors - hiking somewhere remote or up on top of a mountain - and gyms are repulsive.  I have tried them: I signed up once for a 6 month membership; I went for two weeks and never returned.  I tried CrossFit once; I climbed ropes and ran intervals and never returned.  I climbed a mountain once... and since then I’ve barely stopped.

I do however like watching rugby.  Real rugby that is, rugby union, not the lame rugby league they like in this country.  That’s not a real game.  Sorry, Dad, but rugby is awesome!

I was night flying the other night, and the stars were so bright and close, and the Milky Way was vividly clear. I was remembering all the times I’ve walked at night time with my father, arm in arm, gazing at the stars.  Sometimes we talked and sometimes we didn’t, and all was well with the world.  And most of me felt I would keep that memory just for me, but I’ve decided now to share it.  Because, I do think I am like my father.

There is something about climbing a mountain and sitting on the rocks to watch a sunset.

There is something about rising before dawn and climbing in the dark to watch the sun raise its head above the horizon.

Seeing the very first glimmers of light on an early morning.

Getting up early to watch the sun rise over the water, with nobody else around to see.

At my house I wake around 6, most days, if I’m not working, and I think I enjoy those two hours or so the best, the hours before anyone else is awake.  Even C, who wakes relatively early, isn’t up then, and I can sit alone, and do, alone, things that I want to do.

I don’t understand how people can spend their entire mornings in bed: but it actually works out very well for me - as people out of the way are fewer people for me to have to deal with!

Coochin

One time!  One time I take pity on the child and take her up Coochin instead of going alone to Tibrogargan. Okay, well my climbing buddy pulled out of Tibro and with a slight chance of rain I decided not to climb alone, just in case.

Instead, I ended up with this:

It’s very happy with itself

Or at least it was

The contentment of a dog in mud

The contentment of a dog who knows I love it, or at least I love that I remembered to bring a towel 

Except now it’s not so happy because I bathed it and despite the blankets, it is shivering its little self off.