choices

The trip began with my usual sense of peace and serenity. Ever grateful and aware of the privileged situation I am in to be able to just hop in my car and drive 450 kms and enjoy the quiet solitude of the Flinders Ranges. It is virtually a yearly pilgrimage for me, and other than on two occasions outside my influence I have always climbed to the top of St Marys Peak. The views are enormous, breathtaking and enables me to re-accustom myself to how small I am in comparison yet still a part of this whole universe.

On the way via Orroroo and Craddock to Hawker, I drove for many kilometres through a locust plague that has hit our southern Flinders Ranges. My windscreen needed constant attention and the front of my car changed into a mass of yellow splattered insects. I was worried about my car overheating as I could faintly smell the cooking of locusts as they sizzled against the radiator and engine block. But no worries, the car drove like a charm. Cleaning it when I returned home was not quite as charming. But even a mess of locusts did not mar my feelings.

The day was quite warm and very muggy as clouds hung about looking as they would drop rain, but didn't. Looking at the clouds I had to wonder not so much how they formed but why they formed, the reason behind them existing. I have been asking 'why' quite a lot lately, and am not closer to knowing. Let it be. Arriving in Wilpena during the heat of the mid-afternoon I set up camp and just sat waiting for the day to end. Kangaroos came out in the late evening and some birds sang their strange goodnights to each other for an interminable amount of time. I went to bed early but kept waking up to their 'hooting' but in their time they drifted off as well.

I was up early the next morning and had set off for my walk/climb by six AM. The weather wasn't even cool at that hour and as I found out later the temperature reached about 37 degrees C. A warm day for climbing amongst dirt and rocks that reflect the sun, and through foliage that pricks the skin. There were many lizards scurrying about, hiding under rocks as I moved past. There were pretty colours displayed by the hardy small plants that managed to survive due to the rains we had this year. They survive the years anyway and show their colours when they can. I also noticed that the native 'black boys' or 'grass trees' (Xanthorrhoea australis) were sprouting green fronds from what appeared to be dead stumps. How life survives in nature and comes into fruition after many dormant years always fascinates me. It is part of my forever asking 'why', and looking at the universe around me in wonderment.

The climb was not too different from other years - actually, it wa

s! I found it a little more difficult. Surely just having another birthday was not really going

to affect my fitness? I did reach the Saddle and had to rest for awhile, nothing unusual, except that I felt as if I was having a minute heart attack. Or at least some form of anxiety attack. I was out of breath, hot and my lower back ached as I placed each foot forward. The rest did me good and as I don't usually take long to recover, and even though I thought of not continuing, I rose and moved forward.

Recently the path from the Saddle to the Peak has been changed into a lo

nger round about route as opposed to the previous path that went up along the Ledge. Although it is now easier though slightly longer, I do prefer the old path.

Now, here I faced a different challenge. Choices. As I followed the path I found that I had strayed. I wasn't lost but over a number of attempts I could not find where the path was, leading to the top. I was confused and felt confronted. My whole reason for climbing was being denied to me. I kept looking but my steps only kept leading to thick clumps of bush. As I tired and struggled to find the way, my heart drained. I kept thinking of home, 'wode xin zai' and how comfortable I am in my later years, having found my place of harmony. My sense of home and being has changed. Where I belong is coming clearer. I knew I had to make a choice and the only choice was to return without reaching the top. I didn't want to fight through thicket and I didn't want to be a victim of getting lost. I sat for a short rest then headed back down.

There was a mixture of feelings rushing inside me. I was angry with myself for not being able to find the path. I was ashamed that I felt that I had failed. I cried. I was sobbing because I made the decision to turn back. And yet, and yet as I progressed (progressed? - yes progressed) I knew I was still on the mountain, still a part of its marvellous terrain. The allure and the attraction of St Marys Peak will never change for me, it will always be there. I am ever grateful that I can still be in its presence; that it remains in photos I have taken and words I have written; that it remains in memories I have, of the different experiences I have enjoyed there; that it will always be a strong influential part of my spirit. I began to feel better, at least emotionally.

Descending, my brian entertained many thoughts. I saw many aspects

of what had happened and what was happening (to me). I made another decision and left my heart there. It was (is) my gift to the mountain, to myself for when I return. Gradually I began to feel lighter and less of a failure. Although I didn't make it to the top, and that doesn't change I didn't feel as if there was

a defeat. It was another experience to store. The path I was on this time obviously wasn't to reach the top, it was for me to come to grips with making a choice. The trek back to camp was tiring and although some of the tiredness came from the heat and activity, most I think came from the emotional happenings. But I recover quickly...

And the respect for the mountain has certainly not diminished. And now the challe

nge is for me to walk away and still maintain respect for myself. My love for the mountain is still very much there; my love for myself - well - yes, it is still there.