We‘re soaked by the time we get back to the hut. But given how long it takes for our wood heater to live up to its name, we give fire lighting a higher priority than changing into dry clothes. Or than eating the lunch that we’ve taken up to the tiny snarer’s hut, and brought back untouched.
So, it takes a long time for us to start to warm up, even while we’re sitting before the fire with food and a hot drink in hand. To compound things for Jim, he’s kept his inner layer on under his walking clothes, forgetting it’s not a thermal. It’s become soaking wet on our walk, and it’s only later that he remembers he still has it on.
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Jim – and his wet clothes – by the fire
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Although it’s early in the afternoon, lunch is done, and we’ve entirely run out of adventurous ambitions. Also we’re still cold, so when the rain comes back with a vengeance, we retreat to our sleeping bags: to read, perchance to snore, if I may mangle Shakespeare.
* * *
Rain on a tin roof. Isn’t that supposed to be soothing? An even patter between pitters, nature’s chitter chatter, lulling you to sleep. Not here, not this afternoon. This is no soft, comforting rhythm. Rain is catching in the branches above. Filtered, wind-shaken, it randomly, erratically spurts and drops and plops loudly onto the roof, as restful as one of those Bulgarian dance tunes, in 11/8 or 9/16 time. Or, in this case, perhaps 279/51!
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| The offending hut roof: not restful! |
The lumpy barrage continues, and I fail to nod off. And then Jim’s phone rings. It seems there’s a weak, intermittent mobile signal up here, and someone’s been trying to contact him about arrangements for the coming State election. (Although retired, Jim does do some electoral work during elections.) That conversation is another type of intricate dance tune, and about as restful. But eventually – or so Jim assures me – I slip into a steady snore.
I wake maybe an hour later to find that Jim hasn’t slept at all. But he’s finally found out why. He’d shivered inside his very warm sleeping bag for more than an hour before discovering that his inner layer was still soaking wet. The non-thermal top is now off, and steaming in front of the fire. And Jim is older and wiser, and a little warmer.
And now I decide there’s a good side to having a mobile phone signal. Our good friend and regular walking companion, Tim D, wasn’t able to join us on this walk. But perhaps, I suggest to Jim, he might be free to join us for lunch in Mole Creek or Deloraine on our way out, given he’s almost a local to that area. Jim concurs, adding the name of a pub in Deloraine where he can get a special deal. This is vintage Jim: ever the bargain supremo. I message Tim, not sure whether the message will get through and, if it does, whether he will respond in time. I’m surprised on both counts when he answers with a keen “YES” almost immediately.
The last of the day’s weak light is now leaking from the forest. Inside the hut our candles glow almost as brightly as the fire. My thermometer tells me we’ve reached 12 degrees, a record for our stay here. We celebrate by setting out some pre-dinner wine, cheese and crackers. That luxury segues into dinner preparations, at least for me. Jim has gone minimalist again, and reckons the pre-dinners and left over bread roll will suit him fine. After many years of walking with Jim, I’ve learned that on a bushwalk he’s a “food is fuel” man. In contrast I’m a “food is joy” man. Inevitably that leads to me offering to share some joy with Jim. As long as it’s not too spicy hot, and not too much, he usually accepts the offer, and tonight is no exception (even though it is another curry).
One cuisine choice we can both agree on is that chocolate goes perfectly with red wine. So, we end the evening meal that way. A deep dark comes early in this forest, especially with the winter solstice only a few days away. But at least the rain has finally eased, and the hiss and crackle of the fire gives us a far more peaceful background track to sleep by than the earlier rain dance.
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The hut’s tidy, it’s time to go
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Our early night encourages an early morning, and we’re up before it’s fully light. Over the valley to the east, I see a hint of colour above a low bank of fog. Perhaps, I dare to think, the rain has properly gone. We breakfast and pack up, then set about cleaning the hut. Given the care that’s been put into the hut, especially by the Mountain Huts Preservation Society, it’s the least we can do. And then we close the hut door and depart. It’s an easy downhill walk, and we’re well ahead of schedule for our lunch appointment with Tim. All the more time for a coffee, we reckon.
On the walk back to the car I quiz Jim about how it’s been getting “back in the saddle”. Starting with his “dicky knee”, he gives it a fair-to-middling rating. He’s had to take extra care on the rougher sections, but overall, the knee has held up well. As for his Atrial Fibrillation, his watch tells him he’s had one episode during the walk. This slowed him down at the time, but was not a big worry. However, he adds, he’s very glad he didn’t have to rely on my (almost non-existent) first aid or CPR skills. I can only agree!
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This creek was dry on our way up
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We’re back in Deloraine nearly an hour early, and have a large coffee and a good long conversation with the owner of Deloraine Deli: an establishment we’ve enjoyed many times over the years. And then we waddle off to lunch with Tim D at the Deloraine Hotel.
And now Jim’s “food is joy” side comes out. He orders a big meal, and a beer to match. Tim and I follow suit, and we have a great catch-up talking about recent walks and future plans. Do I notice a small degree of enthusiasm about future walks from Jim? With luck and a fair breeze, plus a hut and a fire, I suspect there’s every chance he’ll be in that saddle again.
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Friends enjoying a post-walk lunch
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Nature is home, even if we live in cities. I’m a writer based in Tasmania, Australia. I love learning and writing about the natural world, from the smallest bugs to the broadest landscapes.
http://twitter.com/#!/auntyscuttle
Source:
http://www.naturescribe.com/2025/09/back-in-saddle-part-3.html
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