Bushwalk Australia

the ones who spend countless hours and or dollars bushwalking and encouraging and or helping their kids to get out there
my dad wasnt a bushwalker, he didnt like roughing it, but he relished walking outdoors. and he gave up what little time he had to drive me to and from bushwalks,
chronic fatigue kept me away from bushwalking for years but i never lost those memories and got back into bushwalking as soon as i could.
thanks dad, rest in peace....

Well said wayno.
My fondest memories as a kid are of camping and fishing with Mum and Dad.
Even now at 58, the smell of tea tree and the beach bring those times, camping in the canvas tent
that Dad sewed up on the lounge room floor, straight to mind.
It was a big tent too as it had to shelter Mum and Dad and five kids.
A sad memory as a kid was waking up the next morning after going home and realising the camping trip was over.
They were great times.

Yes - me too.
Dad would take us to the beach for summer, drop us off and head home to milk cows while we lapped up the sun and surf.
Like neilmny - the smells linger. A chip heater, and my introduction to possum pee!!
Then years later I remember the trips to the Walls, and south to Lake St Clair, once when the snow was thick and I envisaged a night stuck on the road.
We slithered home somehow.
And while he was doing that mum would milk the cows.

dad wasnt a bushwalker at all. he worked long hours on his feet and lugging heavy sides of meat around in his butcher shop, but he would never hestitate to drive hours over windy hilly, dirty roads to drop me and my friends off or pick us up from numerous bush walks, he never put any guilt on me for the time he put in, he just got on with it quietly....

he was scrupulous about cleaning the car and it meant more work cleaning the car but he never complained...

My dad was a hunter for many years and visited most of backcountry NZ before I was around, but we've never done any walking or camping together. I just fell in love with the challenge bush walking brings. There is no other feeling like reaching that summit or collapsing in the carpark at the end of a long walk!

its in the genes
with me perhaps my scottish highland anestry.....

My Dad got me and my siblings into hiking, and mum tagged along, no doubt, to make sure us kids were all ok.

Sadly, me and my Dad dont talk as much as I'd like these days, however when we do, its the one topic that always seems to come up, and he knows how much hiking means to me now.

He worried about me when there was no water, when it got too cold, when it got too hot, and on one occasion, even decided with me that we would pull a big day to get home to see Mum for New Years. Means more than I think he even knows.

Condolences Wayno
/huggles

Hi Wayno, condolences from me as well, your dad sounds like a very special person.

My parents used to drag us on walks... Grampians, Snowy Mountains, Kosciuszko... and bush camping trips with no facilities. I wasn't that enthusiastic as a kid. I didn’t have the patience for long walks. The climbing was hard work, Victoria's weather is not always great, and back then I just wanted to get lost in a book. Even the novelty of wandering off from camp with a trowel and toilet roll wore off pretty quickly. So it's somewhat ironic, now that I've developed a passion for bushwalking, to reflect back on those times. Often when I discuss places I plan to go with my dad he thinks he took us there. But no, it was before marriage and kids. My aunt tells me stories of my grandparents dropping my dad and a few of his mates off on Friday afternoons at some park/wilderness area and then meeting them back there on Sunday afternoon.

I wonder if the wanderlust is in the genes and I just suppressed it for a long time? My parents are still here, and while my dad can’t walk that much anymore, they are always happy to look after the kids so I can get out for the day or weekend. And now all those memories of the places they took us keep rushing back in…camping near a river outlet into the sea, rolling down sand dunes right into the water, gorging on (unsprayed) wild blackberries. I wouldn’t be who I am now and doing what I do, if not for my parents.

Dad introduced me to the outdoors when I was just a toddler (I'm 15 now) and since then it has become my only passion. It's fair to say I'm obsessed with the outdoors and adventure. Dad fits in overnight walks whenever he can, but we have a large family and he has to cater for all of us, so understandably, most of the time we're just squeezing in day walks on a weekend. Whenever I'm not in the bush I'm dreaming of future walks and adventures. Good job Dad!

I hated going bushwalking, blisters all the time, bad weather, etc... Now I can't get enough of it, the wildlife and isolation you get in Australia just convinced me, and now when I'll get back to France I'll hike everywhere and try to find every inch of off the beaten path terrain. I used to be afraid to travel alone, now I look forward to go alone to Scandinavia, Germany, Austria, and just go for it.

I take my 3 children (aged 5,7,9) out as much as possible. The family camping trips on the beach are already very fond memories for us all, what I personally love are the overnight walks with just one of them at a time. It does not have to be far and you get quality time, one on one with that child. I find myself mostly listening as they unload all that is important to them along the trail and at night they love just chatting with no interruptions from siblings etc....

It also builds resilient little buggers who are self starters and take nothing for granted.

I'm off with my son (7) over easter for a couple of nights in the hinterland near home. Will post some snaps of our trip when I get back.
G_U

its good you have someone there to keep you from getting lost and afraid...

wayno wrote:its good you have someone there to keep you from getting lost and afraid...

Hit the nail wayno.

Aaah, the memories.....

As a 4-year old watching Dad painstakingly hammering hobnails into the soles of my first REAL leather walking boots (less expensive and longer lasting than any rubber-soled boots then).

The pride of wearing those boots and carrying my tiny pack with drink and coat and not much else on an overnight walk, while Dad lugged the monster pack with everything else. I just accepted it as normal...

Building igloos and snow-shoeing in the days when there was more reliable snow than we seem to get now.

Watching Dad, complete with multi-day pack, fly through the air past my head on the return from La Perouse in a phenomenal gale, landing in the centre of a very large patch of scoparia, and commenting that, although the prickles were not very comfortable, landing on the surrounding rocks could have been far worse!

No, I can't turn back the clock, but I can rejoice in remembering the shared experiences of those golden hours.

Condolences wayno, you get but one father...

My old man was no walker but he instilled in me a great love of the outdoors, fishing and boating were his thing.
My mum was visiting recently and we spent what would have been his 74th birthday doing a boat cruise around South Bruny and raised a glass to his memory in the pub that night. It would have been his ideal way to spend any day.

cheers mate
dad was still walking over 50k a week at 79, some of it on hills and he was never one to just go for a stroll.....

My parents got me into walking in Scotland at a young age. I remember ascending Ben Nevis at the age of about 7 with my father, a pretty good effort as it is about a 1300m climb from its base. They encouraged an outdoor education, even funding trips through my teenage years to Norway and the French Alps.
Unfortunately my father no longer can get out and about in the hills due to his rheumatoid arthirits, but my mother who is in her late 60's insists on going for a bushwalk when we meet up each year. This year we walked up Hartz Peak with my 6 year old daughter in tow. A special day having 3 generations of my family on a walk .

Lucky *&%$#!.

I hope my son remembers his first trip up Kosciuszko this weekend, and walks to Dead Horse Gap past Ramshead, and the Main Range circuit over Carruthers to Charlottes Pass. He's 11, and was the youngest I saw on the track with an overnight pack. His dad and I are very proud of him