Tramping

So I was sitting in bed reading the other night and received an email with the subject line, "Why?" It was about blogging, which the more observant of you may have noticed I haven't been doing an awful lot of recently, and while I was tempted to reply "Because" I realised that isn't actually a reason and I had better write something.  So I sent back a somewhat melodramatic email (did I mention I was slightly drunk? I was slightly drunk) promising to write a blog post this weekend, and now I am, although technically it is Monday.

What have I been doing?  Tramping!  This whole time! I haven't been blogging because I've been In The Wilderness!

See?

No, that's lies.  To say I have been "doing" tramping is possibly slightly inaccurate as it's technically a thing I only did once, not something I have incorporated into my remarkably sedentary lifestyle.  HB* and I went on a four day tramp after Christmas (it was meant to be a 2 day tramp but it was longer than HB remembered).  I had 'Folsom Prison Blues' stuck in my head for the first two days and that 'Carry On' song by fun.** for the next two.  On the third day I fell in mud and stank out the hut. I'm an excellent tramping partner.

I prepared for the tramp by purchasing a $200 pair of tramping boots and doing absolutely no exercise whatsoever, which really paid off halfway up the Hill (we went up several, but only one was drastic enough to merit capitalisation).  HB, who is a proper tramper, trudged up the H in a slow and steady fashion while I paused on likely-looking flattish bits before taking a deep breath and launching myself upwards in a sort of headlong charge, made more headlong by my pack lurching forwards over my head and my tendency to roar the first two lines of Folsom Prison Blues as I stomped upwards. (The bit about the train, except instead of train it was me.) Then I would get out of breath and stop and have a barley sugar. I repeated this all the way up the H, which  HB says is not the way that a proper tramper goes up an H, but whatever.

I also took a rather nice photo of a sunset over the hut (it is below this paragraph) and actually really enjoyed the whole thing.  It's nice to be sitting in a hut in the middle of nowhere, reeking faintly of mud, playing 500 and drinking wine out of a... skin,*** all the while safe in the knowledge that you're totally out of cellphone reception and can't possibly do any work.  

We topped off an idyllic four days by walking out of the bush and taking photos of each other in comical "back at the car" poses.  Hugging the car!  Throwing our arms up in joy to be back at the car! Taking off our packs in front of the car!  Turning the key in the engine of the car! 

Turning the key in the engine of the car?

Checking the lights weren't left on in the car. 

Opening the bonnet of the car.  

Shouting obscenities at the car.

Walking away from the car.

WALKING AWAY FROM THE CAR FOR ANOTHER THREE HOURS BEFORE REACHING THE MAIN ROAD AND HITCH-HIKING TO THE NEAREST TOWN WHICH IS ACTUALLY JUST A PUB WHICH ONLY HAS MAGAZINES FROM TEN YEARS AGO AND ONLY HAS ONE TELEPHONE WHICH YOU HAVE TO PAY $8 TO USE AND SO YOU CALL YOUR SISTER AND SHE'S REALLY ANNOYED BUT COMES AND GETS YOU ANYWAY AND THEN COMPLAINS BITTERLY THAT YOU HAVE STUNK UP HER CAR.

And then it flooded and we couldn't even go in and get the car back.

And because you have been such good readers, here is a picture of me in my tramping pants.  

I look rather rotund for an outdoors aficionado, but that's mainly because I'm wearing 15 layers of jersey.  

*for anyone who has forgotten, HB is the Handsome Boyfriend (and also a sort of pencil, a brand of Irish ice cream and German cigarettes, and a model of 1920s automobile).

**I hate the way fun. have formatted their band name, it's fucked up that whole sentence

***is it called that? The thing inside a wine box? I would also like to state that I don't make a habit of drinking wine-out-of-a-box but it's a lot easier to carry than bottles. Not that I carried it.  HB carried it, because he is a very nice sort of pencil indeed.