I just read a delightful account of a canoe trip down a river that cuts through Kangaroo Valley (Aussie friends might know where this is… I can only hazard a guess it’s around Canberra somewhere) by a friend of mine and one of her closest friends while she was living in Aus. They put away all modern gadgetry and took off, just the two of them, diminutive figures, mothers between them of 8 kids, couple of back packs and a rough guide as to where to go and which way to head and a canoe. They’d never done anything like this before.
They camped in the middle of nowhere, they made fires using traditional methods, they saw awesome scenery, scrambled rocks to take in better views.. just, you know, outdoor exploration at its best.
Met at the end point of their adventure by their husbands and kids they emerged on time, totally refreshed and exhilarated, closer as friends and better as people. I think their glowing faces at the end were about to burn through my laptop screen.
Why am I too chicken to do something like that? I would be terrified and full of ‘what ifs’. I swear if I make it to my goal I am going to do something like that even if the boat has a motor and it’s just somewhere remote in Europe, even in the UK, I’m going to give it a shot. I have to before I pop off, it’s on the bucket list.
I’ve trekked and walked up mountains with no one around for miles before but civilisation has been in sight and we were on solid ground. I just need to do something like this.