MOOMINS M.C.

Day three: I found I'd had the Melbourne truly knocked out of me and was contemplating finally attempting a walk of some description, whilst following the exploits of our little sailing craft in the Grampians Regatta Mark II.
This time we decided to use gum leaves as sails for their waterproof qualities.
Once again Jade's modest craft performed best and afterwards the little boats were taken home as souvenirs of the event.
My original plan was to spend the days in the Grampians going on short bushwalks and gradually building up the difficulty and lengths of the walks, but the two days of rain kind of killed that idea.
So I found myself with one full day left and no walkies having been achieved.
I made a decision to tackle a familiar walk, found this little description on the web by a pommy couple, it provides another opinion / version of the hike.
Having only one walk to choose, I picked one that would be challenging, rewarding and true test for my battered and still recovering body.
My trusty sidekicks Gino and Geoff C. accompanied me on the trial and this time we we took 600ml of water each, smart I thought.
I knew it was going to be hard, but I figured that knowing the walk would help mentally get me through it.
So I packed the 3 water bottles, my camera, a medipac consisting of two small bandages and a bandaid and set off.
I spotted a pack of jelly snakes on the table, just bursting with sugar and told myself not to forget them, good little energy snack those.

The ascent was hard.
The initial sandy 1/4 mile out of the valley lulls the unknowing into a false sense of security, but suddenly the path turns markedly more vertical and more scramble like.
It then follows the base of the cliffs for quite some time, never straight, never flat, never easy, always going up or down, then makes another major ascent towards the top where there is some more up and down before the final little tilt at the summit

The lack of strength /control in my right leg meant I was having to use my arms more to help and also plan my steps with great care.
I didn't realise until this point just how behind my forearm is in the recovery stakes.
Being forced to use it to pull myself up and brace myself when going down I felt the flexing in the ulna, which is only held together with the metal plate and is due to receive bone grafts in the next surgery.
The level of strength in it was noticeably less than my uninjured left arm and the pain only made it more difficult.
The left arm wasn't too bad apart form some discomfort from the back pack strap rubbing on the collarbone plate.
The knees, especially the left one that sounds like a pop corn machine, were giving me grief as was the right hip.
A few times I was forced to stop and consider the best options to get across certain sections because I'd found myself trying to take the most 'normal' path, as I would have last year.
Many a time I would stumble and catch myself, somehow managing not to fall or roll and ankle or do myself some other harm.

Nearing the summit Geoff proclaimed his hunger and enquired as to the availability of any food.
That was the moment I realised I'd left the bag of jelly snakes back at the camp!
Doh!!!
Like starved desert island shipwreck survivors we started fantasising about food.
Geoff had a hankering for chocolate covered licorice bullets, all I could think of was a fat juicy peppered steak and Gino in true wog style was preoccupied with images of dripping souvlakis.
Quote: "What we really need is a souvlaki joint here and another joint that sells beer 500m down the track."
I couldn't agree more.
We pressed on and made the summit where we sheltered from the bracing wind behind the summit marker rock pile and enjoyed the sensational views going out to the flatlands as far as the eye could see.
After sending some text messages ( there was a brief moment of reception, so why not? ) we headed back down.

I thought the going up was hard, but the lack of energy and the constant assault on my joints on the downhill sections made for a very painful experience.
The stumbles became more frequent and the orthotics I have been forced to wear in my boots were starting to squeeze my toes like a WWII Japanese Colonel with a bench vice in a Malay P.O.W. camp.
Many a time pangs of pain would shoot through my joints as stepped the wrong way, or had to hop onwards to prevent gravity and momentum from taking me down like a South Central gang member.
Towards the end I found myself getting more emotional than a gay man finding out his favourite Laura Ashely pillow case had been ruined in the wash.
Whether it was the exhaustion or the fact I'd made it in one piece, or the realisation that my planned 3 day bushwalk in Tasmania was pretty much out of the question as I had trouble with such a light pack, I really don't know.
The fact that I'd managed to complete this walk, as painful as it may have been, was a definite marker in my recovery, especially when you consider my state at the camping trip one year ago.
I'd managed to get something I did before the crash, back again.
That was really the ONE thing I wanted to get out of this weekend.
We made it back to the car and drove back to camp where we were greeted with the fine smell of bolognese sauce simmering over the fire.
After much more alcoholic consumption I turned in for a well needed rest.
I slept very well that night and the following day we packed up all our belongings and headed back to Melbourne.
Another successful Melbourne Cup Camping Trip ticked off.
AND!!!! I won the grapple with gravity!!!!! Yes!!!!
I felt sore but good for the rest of the week, until I received the news that my surgery had been cancelled, with the next available but unlikely date being 21st December, failing that January sometime.

poo
is all I have to say to that now