Walking to pole 333 and beyond is our near-daily pastime, a different track each day from the junction of paths. I recognise Mt Cope. Learning the shapes and directions, I’m becoming familiar with the landscape day by day, still uncertain where the tracks meet and cross. My mind map is lengthening, stretching on all sides. Every day is new. Summer’s sunshine is wondrous but hours without cover of trees gives walking another dimension for safety. Collar and long-sleeves, wide-brimmed hat, sunglasses and plenty of water are all essential. Long trousers too. One woman is sunburnt at the back of her knees, her ears reddened. Another woman’s lips are swollen from sunburn. I remember the first time I snow skied near here. The last week of the ski season, the first week of summer slush. With glare from glowing snow, my lips had swollen, cracked and peeled, sunburnt and wind burnt. Now, knowing my vulnerability, I share first aid treasures as gifts but it’s too late to prevent friends’ pain.
I’m new to Victoria, new to the high country, amazed by the distances we walk in each direction without seeing more than a few huts and tracks demonstrating human interference. Amazement seems such a humbling emotion. Glad, delighted, thankful, that I am physically fit enough to walk these trails. Thankful, delighted and glad that I can enjoy walking with my backpack, sleeping in my tiny tent. How accustomed I am to carrying it all on my back with eight days’ food, my mattress, warm clothes for the cool evenings, glad my new sleeping bag is warm and snuggly enough for this adventure.