When is a track no longer a track?

Today we met Camilla, our landlady. She told us that a family of elk regularly walks through our ‘garden’. The three of them walk through her garden, eat a couple of apples from her tree then contented, stroll down by us. Freya has barked a few times, and we thought it was her usual invisible things. Perhaps it was The Family Elk.

Surprisingly, we didn’t see any elk in the woods today. We’d started off on the well-worn track but, by mutual consent, we hit the wilderness to take a so-called shortcut back to Max.

Needless to say, the girls spent the entire time being as joyous as it’s possible to be.

The thing is, here in the north, the sun sets a bit earlier than we’re used to and the woods are pitch black once the sun has gone. For this reason, it’s important to go walking in the middle of the day (at the latest) in order to make the most of what light there is. Before we hit the woods, we had plenty of time.

There is a big right to roam thing in Sweden. Basically, you can walk anywhere you feel like. Because of this, there’s not a lot of well trod tracks through the woods. Also, there’s over 12,000 acres of the woods closest to us so the chances of people walking the same way twice is unlikely.

According to Mirinda’s iPhone, there are tracks winding their way through the wilderness. These tracks maybe very clear to the elk, but they weren’t obvious to us.

Imagine the bush through the Megalong Valley without the killer fauna and you get the basic idea of leaving the well trod track in the National Park.

There’s lots of trees, unexpected gullies, boggy ground and unclimbable rocks. The rocks, in particular, are likely to end in a cliff edge. They are also covered in slippy, slimy, excessively moist, moss. For a few minutes, searching for blueberries, it’s all well and fine. To get from one side of the well trod path to the other, not so much fun.

Of course, at first, it was all good. We spotted the vague impression of a path leading towards a couple of nature stations, one of which had a motion detection camera.

Footage from today will include a couple of insane Australians trudging their way through with two manic cockerpoos. By the way, the big, blue thing is full of feed. I assume it is meant to attract wildlife which then triggers the camera.

Along with the above tripod there was also a tree with a parka on it and some sort of recording instrument under the parka and what appeared to be a hide on stilts.

It might not seem obvious but the track to these stations was clear. The rest of the way we were on our own.

Also, as the photograph above shows, there were telegraph poles and electricity cables running through the woods. You’d think this would include a well defined track in order to allow repairs or simply access. If this is what you’d think, you’d need to think again.

Something we’ve learnt over the years is if I say we should turn right it makes a lot more sense to turn left. My sense of direction is…actually I don’t have one. To be fair, I can generally work out up from down but, basically, that’s it.

In fact, I used to think I could read a map but, as demonstrated today, that is incorrect.

While our walk was arduous and sometimes a bit scary, it was exhilarating and proof that Mirinda knows how to read a map. It would have been helpful if she hadn’t worn camouflage though, given I was lagging behind as she was scouting ahead.

Having a white dog helped a lot. Freya’s rabbit-like tail kept me heading in the right direction. Well, until she crested hills or just vanished from view. Then I just stood and despaired until Mirinda yelled and waved and I realised she was right in front of me but disguised as a tree.

The ground was particularly uneven in parts which caused me quite a bit of discomfort especially when I fell over though I was luckier than Mirinda. The two times I fell over, at least it was onto thick spongy grass from which I almost instantly bounced back from. Mirinda slipped on a big rock and landed on the moss. Fortunately she was okay.

As we approached, what I thought was a return to the well trod path, Mirinda informed me that we were about halfway. We’d already been walking for hours. And we had to do that all again? The light was fading and I was getting more and more concerned given the general lack of berries which we’d have to resort to eating.

At one point, I found a rough cairn. I figured it had been left by someone, in a similar situation and as a warning to not go any further. Of course, by this time, it would have meant a three day return trek through thick dense forest, scrambling over pitch black rocks. Cairn or not, I wasn’t going back the way we’d come.

Given the fact that I’m writing this blog entry, it’s pretty obvious we made it back to the well trod path and, from there, back to Max but it was a close call given the rapidly vanishing sun. Still, as we were leaving the woods, a couple of mad Swedes were heading in on mountain bikes. That’s bicycles, not motorbikes. I hope they made it out again.

Something we find very appealing is that, although bike riding is not allowed in the National Park, we’ve seen quite a few disobedient riders cycling away. Of course, that could be because cyclists are generally arseholes everywhere rather than some Swedes not being particularly silly-law abiding. Who knows?

Today, this happened

The Canberra Times of October 27, 1962 reported a number of oddities that had happened in and around the national capital.

First there was the mysterious appearance of an old abandoned car rusting away on the road from the airport. When I say ‘old’ I mean ancient. It looked like it had fallen off Henry Ford’s original assembly line. Who dumped it or why, was a complete mystery.

Then there was a horde of rabbits near Parliament House followed by a mad gaggle of ducks at West Block.

Finally, a group of very aggressive geese was discovered wandering up the nature strip on Miller Street, O’Connor.

The intrepid Canberra Times photographer, managed to get photos of all of them though he had to make a quick getaway from the geese which clearly didn’t want their beaks splashed all over the paper. I can only assume that they were up to no good.