I have a self-compiled CD called ‘The Real Seventies (and none of that disco crap) and this track leads off:
It’s a CD I often put on when I’m packing for a tramping trip, as I have been this arvo.
Very relevant to my own current preoccupations, Cactus Kate has a piece on why she won’t be going tramping.
I don’t mind the walking part, what I do mind is staying in shitty accommodation, having to carry things on your back, eating bad food, not being able to shower, blisters on feet, smelly and wet clothes and sleeping bags.
And the problem is?
Tramping is supposed to hurt, dammit. But in a good way.
Oswald Bastable has joined in the debate here
And he’s right, in a way: any fool can rough it. It’s just a lot of them shouldn’t.
I admit I got into tramping for all the usual idealistic reasons: the great outdoors, New Zealand’s magnificent wide open spaces, and the chance to walk in those great wide open spaces with sturdy, fit young women in shorts.
But now I’m more settled there is something grounding about the whole thing and I like it even more than I used to, although the trips are very different these days. A cynic would say I’m trying to recapture my youth, but this isn’t the case for a number of reasons, one being I have no desire to recapture my youth.
I let that bugger go into the wild a long time ago and I think natural predators have done their bit by now. And a good thing too.
The other being I’m not attempting anything like the trips I did back in the good-in-parts old days. This trip is going up to Arthurs Pass and doing day-walks, not the seven and eight day trips of the past. Leisurely, rather than frantic, something-to-prove trips are now more my style.
Mind you, I did some of those leisurely ones at Uni too. Married someone I met on one of them.
Anyway, this trip: some nice photos, some books to read if the weather turns foul, as is appears is fairly likely.