I fell flat at the end of 2018, likely because as my good friend Chrissy suggested, I’d had such an epic and intense year full of travel, work and adventure.

It was my Year of the Nomad, a good excuse to take a one-year pre-retirement vacation and visit as many people across the globe as I could. I learned a lot from this year. Mainly that everyone does this life thing differently. There’s no real right or wrong to it, no formula to happiness or books that will lead you down the right path. Stay true to who you are and who you want to be, fulfil your potential and be kind to others. That’s what I know about happiness, in addition to surrounding yourself with good people, pushing your boundaries, living simply, and leaving a little space for love in-between.

I spent the last three months of this year working in the Middle East to pay off the travel I’d done and save for a little this year. It was the first time in 3.5 years I’d worked back in the fast paced freelance world of international events, and it took me a full two weeks to convince myself I could still do it. I suffered one of the largest struggles with self-confidence I remember having since 2006, when I was 23 and about to get on a plane to the Philippines to plan the Asian Games Torch Relay’s first leg in the city of Manila. It was a huge responsibility for me back then, and I remember bursting into tears in the office bathroom one evening when the stress of the project got the better of me.

I had no choice but to face up to the challenge then, and I had no choice in the matter more recently either. I would have thought after 35 years with everything I’ve done and all the experience behind me I’d be oozing with confidence. But this is not the case; in fact it sometimes works against me. I could hear that little voice inside my head whispering, ‘But what if I can’t do it this time with all these expectations on me?’

I tried an online mobile therapy app called Talkspace at the end of last year, and although it helped put some of my self-confidence issues into perspective and prevent me from falling victim to my own negativity, it didn’t quite match sitting face-to-face with someone in a room to air out my dirty laundry. My ‘To Do’ list for 2019 includes finishing my book, buying a van, and finding a decent therapist. I’m hoping to rediscover my self-confidence, find my own space and rhythm in this world, and let my heart run free. I spent so much of last year observing the lives of others, this year I need to get back to building a life around me.

The ongoing question is always where, and because Canada ticks so many boxes except the fact I hate the cold and suffer the darkness of winter, all arrows seem to be pointing me back there. Prior to my departure from Australia however, I’m going to take my first ever surfing lessons in Sydney and go hiking around Tasmania with Tom who I met in New Zealand. I was tossing up between heading straight back to Vancouver or taking another job in the Middle East, but surfing and hiking are much more enticing options, and were two of the choices that pulled me right out of my end-of-year funk during the last week. Adventure always equals happiness for me.

So as you enter this brand new year, whether it’s with trepidation, expectation, fear, anxiety or glee, remember there are no hard and fast rules to follow. Create your own way of life that makes you and those around you happy. Push your boundaries, try something new, and most of all enjoy the journey. We’re just so lucky to be here.

Happy 2019!

Usually I feel reflective, nostalgic or philosophical when I find myself at the airport ready to begin another chapter. I felt happy and enthused, but not ready to delve into deep, complicated thoughts about life and what the future has in store. All I could focus on was getting myself fed, while I stared out the window after passing through a relatively painless customs and security check. I had a small scissor with my old moleskin from the PCT buried inside my backpack, and when the woman identified me as the owner, she sighed and remarked sarcastically, ‘these are my favourite types of bags’. I think she actually felt bad unravelling all my carefully packed contents, scrutinising my sawyer squeeze water filter, tent, and hiking clothes, before having to dig even deeper for the zip-locked culprit. 

Just before I left Abu Dhabi, I felt an enormous pull to go back to Australia. Within these few weeks, I shared so much with the people that mean the most to me, I can’t even imagine not being here during this time. I celebrated new life, old life, and the completion of life. I became closer to close friends, and I was able to share joyful and important moments with my family.

Perhaps that’s why there wasn’t room for grand philosophies after I said goodbye to my parents at the international terminal in Sydney. I was feeling a little sad to leave. But in 14 hours and 9 minutes I’ll be standing on the ground in a new hemisphere (two actually according to Fuller – the Northern and Western!) and life will continue under a new setting, the way it always does.

One of my best friends commented on this visit that I seemed more comfortable being me. No more Googling true love or the meaning of life. I think she’s right. I’ve never felt so comfortable in my own skin and so sure of where my life is heading. Somehow I feel older and more weighted, like gravity is holding me down with a firmer grip and I have a more stable footing on this earth. It feels good when you’re happy being you. Satisfied with your shortcomings and able to appreciate the better sides of yourself. 

If this chapter goes to plan, I won’t be dragging around my home in a suitcase for at least a few months. I can unpack, settle in, and feather my nest for a while; then reassess. One step at a time. Another lesson from the trail. As long as you’re moving forward, you’ll eventually reach your destination, and in many respects the stars have already begun to align. I said to a friend yesterday that I feel like I’m slipstreaming life at the moment, swimming with the tide instead of against it. I’ve narrowed down my goals and options for the year, so it feels easier to make the right decisions. I’m looking for a place to rent within a small radius of blocks, and I’ve applied for just one job. I’ll continue moving forward until I’ve secured both, or until a second option is a must. Then the rest will be a surprise.

A lot of people at this time of the year will be setting off on their epic adventure along the PCT. Wild is screening on the plane, but I promised a close friend we would watch it together, so I’m still waiting patiently to see the movie. I’ve heard mixed reviews, but the main reason I want to watch it is to see the trail again. I have a tendency to watch other people’s screens when flying, taking in snippets of movies in silence. That way I don’t have to commit to my own selection, and I can tune in and out of the film without spoiling the whole movie. The woman next to me however has just switched on Wild, so I’ve covered my right eye with my bandana while I write, stopping my eyes from straying to watch.

It’s funny how often I get onto a plane without really contemplating the reality of flying. It’s not until about half way through that I realise just how insane the concept actually is. Climbing inside a huge metallic bird that soars you to another destination in a matter of hours. You sit in a chair, most of the time in darkness, doing everything in your power to distract you from the fact that you’re thousands of feet in the air; movies, music, reading or sleeping. Then the lights come on, you eat a meal, the plane lands, everyone stands up, you walk off the plane, and just like that you’re in another country. 

This will be my reality in about 13.5 hours, so I’ve got plenty of time to watch my silent movies and delve into those deep philosophies should I choose. Then just like magic, I’ll be walking off the plane in a new setting, and life will start again.

So many people live out of a suitcase these days that it’s hardly a unique or sought after lifestyle. In fact, those practised at this behaviour will likely attest that it’s certainly not the glamorous, nomadic affair some people dream about.

Quite frankly it’s a pain in the arse lugging your entire life from one side of the globe to another. These fleeting nomads who jet set on a whim should be fancy free with nothing but a shoulder bag or lightweight backpack. In my case I find myself trudging through the airport laden with at least one oversized suitcase, a backpack, a handbag, and sometimes even a standard shopping bag which I try to disguise as something newly purchased duty free.

Packing for an undetermined period of time with multiple layovers, seasons and all possibility of activity is downright annoying. Two months ago I was staring at exactly the same collection of clothing and bags as I am now, and 5 months before that, and 7 months before that, and, and, and. It’s the one thing I never improve at no matter how many times I do it. I actually think I’m getting worse, or the hoarding spirit within me is starting to run rampant in my old age; or perhaps I’ve just been off trail too long.



Simplistic living in nature out of a backpack has grown frighteningly foreign to me. I pulled my sleeping bag out of my backpack today and genuinely hugged it like an old friend I hadn’t seen in months. I’ve gone beyond the itchy feet into somewhere unknown, where sleeping under the stars and falling asleep to the sound of a running stream and frogs croaking seems like something out of a fairy tale.

What does this tell me? I need to get back into the game. Baby steps though it may be, I need to venture back into the wilderness and rediscover that fearless human being who made a trail their home and felt more comfortable in the company of dirt and chipmunks, than any lavish home comforts could ever provide.

Since my last adventure in Spain I’ve lived a completely opposite existence to the previous three months of my life. I was about to rid myself of all belongings, give my money to charity, and dedicate my life to the service of others. Instead I went to the other extreme, made money while living a rather decadent lifestyle in one of the richest countries in the world.

What I learned from this is the importance of balance. There was something fundamental missing from this lifestyle as there may have been heading in the other direction. Balance. That humble little word that seems so obvious yet is so easily forgotten. It’s something a lifestyle such as mine doesn’t often account for. When I’m working I’m pushing 15-hour days while slipping into some kind of parallel universe in which I find myself unable to communicate with the outside world. When I’m not working I find myself doing the exact same at the other end of the spectrum.

I spoke to a friend in Canada a few days ago who has recently moved there for work with her husband. I asked if she found herself in some kind of bubble and her answer was straightforward and direct; ‘no, I still manage to communicate like a regular person.’ I guess it shocked me. Perhaps that’s what balance is, taking on new responsibilities without neglecting the old. Or is it solely about work and play, give and take, yin and yang or healthy living?

The last time I rented an apartment was in 2012 while living in London, and this year one of the things I’m most looking forward to is having my own funded space. I thought the ultimate freedom was living fancy free without a postcode or a place to call home; but after almost 3 years of moving from one place to another, dragging my life on wheels through airports, onto trains and into the spare rooms of friends and family between jobs, it’s time to find a place I call home.

I’m not going drastic here, I’m talking 5 months and then let’s reevaluate. I’ve decided to move back to a city I once called home, that has exquisite nature on its doorstep, people I love, and is close to one of the elements in my life that has left a lasting impression on my being and soul. The Trail. I’m not about to grab my pack and head down to the Southern Terminus, but knowing it’s there, somewhat within reach, motivates me to get out and explore other trails. Sure, hiking 30 miles with a pack these days would leave me for dead, but perhaps I can find balance in the outdoors; a day hike or an overnight jaunt before allowing my tendency for extremes to take over again.

I’m currently sitting in the loudest massage chair at the airport. I’ve never sat in one of these chairs before, but as I was using the power socket behind it, and I had a spare $2 coin to rid myself of, I thought why the hell not.

I’m not sure if all the recent unspeakable tragedies involving aircrafts has had any affect, but the airport is almost completely silent tonight in Sydney. I was the only person in the lineup to check into my flight, and I was the only person in this entire section of the airport, until a lady just sat down next to me to use the other socket.

Packing up my belongings and getting ready to leave felt incredibly normal. I joked with my mum that it’s been stranger to actually be here for so long than to leave again. I think my friends feel the same.

There’s some kind of heightened sense of emotion about going to, or being at an airport. Many things have happened in these last couple of months, and even more recently, that the part of my mind that thinks everything that happens in the world is trying to teach me something, has been running rampant. I’ve been celebrating the start of life, and seeing those grieve the end. I’ve seen old friends and made some new, I’ve reconnected and let go of a few. I’ve learned to appreciate each day, let go of things out of my control, and appreciate the company of those around me.

I’ve packed everything I could possibly need in two backpacks. I might be working in a homestead, hostel or office. I might be hiking, camping swimming, cycling, sleeping or hermiting. Either way I’ve got it covered. Well, except for my tent. After months of toing and froing on how to fix the annoying non-closing zipper issue, I waited to receive new sliders from Mr Henry Shires but they never arrived. Mum had the sewing kit ready to go up until this morning, having fixed the hip pockets on my pack and Little Muk’s keyring. But when the mail arrived without them, we realised shit, this ain’t going to happen. I now have my horrendous yellow bivvy sack that I took through Yosemite with me and a tarp. All I can say is, if there’s mosquitos about, they’d better watch out for one unhappy camper!

And so I bid farewell to this land I still call home and head off again to the EU. My 94 year old grandpa asked me if I had any plans of settling down. I laughed, patted him on the shoulder and told him he’d be the first to know.

I only have three flights, an overnight bus ride and a four hour walk to get to my destination. It will take me just under two days, although I’m hoping to source a bus to cut down the distance of the final stretch on foot. I guess I better start practising my Spanish! (Thanks Fuller, I still have the phrase book you gave me!) Hasta luego!

I haven’t stopped moving since I’ve been back in Australia, but at the same time, I don’t really feel like I’ve gone anywhere. I’ve been doing round trips from Sydney to Melbourne to Sale and back to Sydney, with my carbon footprint going through the roof. Thank goodness I’ve done so much walking this last year to balance it out!

I’m on my way back to Melbourne this morning. Back on the ferry and train to the airport, again. I have my routine set so seamlessly now that I slide between the confused tourists looking for the ticket machines, timetables and entrance gates, while I float through effortlessly. I look like a local, like someone who feels at home in this environment, impressing these tourists with my efficiently, knowledge and know-how. The truth is I feel as foreign as they do.

I’ve been fascinated lately by people’s routines and in awe of the simplicity of their actions. Basic things like using the same mug for tea or coffee in the morning, having a local supermarket where they shop, purchasing a booklet of tickets for the same bus, knowing that there’s a dinner special at the pub on a Tuesday.

Although these trips are becoming so familiar with the airports starting to feel like home, I can feel that lack of routine stranglehold tightening its grip. When complete freedom casts you into the middle of the ocean without a clear direction of which way to go. Any direction will take you to a destination, but you need to be clear on that destination before you start to swim.

I picked a destination for the end of July months ago, but with all this swimming back and forth in between I’ve seen many other horizons pop up. It’s been tempting to explore these other options, but the more I contemplate a new direction the more I feel lost. If there’s one lesson that has always rung true for me it’s ‘stick to the plan’. This doesn’t mean not having the flexibility to change, but it means once you make a decision you should reach that shore before turning around to swim in the other direction.

At the end of this month I’m heading back to Spain with the intention of learning Spanish and taking time to write. I feel a bit like a teenager on a gap year. Does this girl ever work? The answer is not a lot this year that’s for sure. The lack of work is contributing to that lack of purpose feeling, and being a freeloader for so long does do evil things to your self conscious. But I know the solution to my own despair. Write. Writing is my therapy, and I haven’t had enough downloading sessions with my virtual therapists lately which is why I’m back!

Now that I’ve got that off my chest let’s talk about the exciting aspects of my gap year. Jumping on a plane at the end of this month and immersing myself in a place where people speak little English. Having the opportunity to take my pack on some new exciting adventures, finding some solitude and quiet time to write, and getting back to nature.

I’ve decided that I’m going to save up purchasing a coffee mug, shopping at a grocery store, establishing a bus route and finding a local pub for next year. I’m going to continue living this year like it’s my last, like a gypsy, like a teenager on a gap year. Once I’m able to put the guilt of doing so behind me, I’ll be ready to enjoy it!

I haven’t had the privilege of getting out on any remote trails recently, but that’s not to say I haven’t been enjoying the wildlife and wilderness in close vicinity to my sister’s farm near Sale. Between collecting firewood, mowing the lawns, herding sheep, feeding chooks, ducks, dogs, cats, looking after two kids and taking care of the house, there’s a lot of work to be done. I’m enjoying taking part in these activities temporarily, but it’s a full time job for my sister and brother-in-law who live and breath this lifestyle day to day.

Finding time for a break in the routine requires planning and efficiency, so on our way into town yesterday I got my sister to drop me 5km from the centre so I could explore the wetlands and bird life on the outskirts of town, meeting her at the shops in time to head back home.

The heritage walk took me on a trail and boardwalk right through the centre of the wetlands amongst the swans and bird life that was plentiful in their natural habitat. I had the entire path to myself, wondering how many people actually take advantage of this well built corridor through nature.

It’s not always easy for an all-or-nothing person like me to take satisfaction from short expeditions, but I’ve come to appreciate even the brief bursts of outdoor exposure I’m getting between other responsibilities. The much needed family and friend time I desired so strongly in Spain has been every bit as rewarding and enjoyable as I’d hoped. I have an incredibly strong community in my many homes spread throughout Australia, and I’ve been lucky enough to spend so much time dedicated to reconnecting with them all.

I also went on a short expedition with my parents recently in Sydney around the Manly Dam Reserve. What I expected to be a short, flat 7km circuit walk around the dam was actually a wilderness trail winding it’s way through thick bush, past gushing waterfalls and wading pools, with some pretty decent climbs that gave our leg muscles a workout. The highlights in our own backyard are the ones I often ignore.

During our short walk around Sale’s Lake Guthridge today, we witnessed the unexpected incident of a dog chasing a peacock across the parklands towards the lake. When I reached the bird the dog was on top of it, and both my sister and I believed it dead. Fortunately the peacock was simply in shock, with it’s head buried underneath it’s wings. It wasn’t moving so we phoned a vet for advice, but soon after I collected it in my arms the bird wriggled free, running towards the lake and burying it’s front end into a hole. I carefully managed to wriggle the bird out, carrying it back towards it’s enclosure where the council unlocked the gate and thanked us for returning the peacock in one piece. Our good deed done for the day. Now back to stoking the fire, feeding the kids, chooks, ducks, dogs, cat and rounding up the sheep!

As I walked along the gravel track leading down to my sister’s front paddock at 9:30pm on the eve of the Winter Solstice, I remembered the outdoor world I’ve recently left behind with it’s glittering stars, velvet air, night time hum, and crisp intense realness.

My brother-in-law had asked me to check on the bonfire he’d lit this afternoon that would smoulder overnight until the morning, so I wandered down without expectation to ensure the flames were under control.

Walking past the mist covered fields on either side of the driveway, establishing my path without light by the sound of gravel crunching beneath my feet, I suddenly felt reconnected with the outdoors.

When I was on the Pacific Crest Trail from April to October in 2013, the sun, moon and stars became close to me like family or friends. These were the constant counterparts of my journey, forever changing in their own unique way, but ever present whether I paid attention to them or not. I felt so close to these elements surrounding our planet that I painstakingly missed them when my trail life ended and the civilised world took hold. Of course they were still there, but they’d gone from being my closest allies to friends I only saw when I had the time. Like old friends, when you catch up after months without contact it’s like time hasn’t passed, but there’s always something missing; that true common understanding of one another that only comes from spending everyday together and living your lives in that fashion for months on end.

Tonight when I was reunited with the stars and the silence of the night, tears began to well in my eyes. When I reached the bonfire I had only checked on because I was tasked, I couldn’t believe I hadn’t simply walked the 300 meters on my own accord to view such a marvellous spectacle. I’d simply forgotten to take notice. There is so much stimulation in our world between phones, computers and television that we forget the most breathtaking display of nature is waiting for us right outside our front door.

I’ve never felt as connected to this planet until I spent the most part of six months outdoors. Every smell, sight and touch I experience when I’m back in the wilderness often ignites a feeling inside me that wasn’t there before. A true appreciation for the gift of life we were given, and the glorious planet it was packaged in.

This is not to say the world is a perfect place, it’s far from it; but if we don’t appreciate the glory of its small miracles every once in a while then what are we holding on for?

At your next opportunity go outside; view a sunrise, a sunset, or simply breath in the fresh night air under a blanket of stars, just to remember how lucky we are. We may all be guilty of ignorance towards the troubled state of our world, but we shouldn’t be guilty of ignoring the presence of nature’s beauty so close to us.