Category Archives: Australia

Hitching and Pitching across Tasmania

When Tom first suggested we hitch across Tasmania, I was hesitant. Tom (23), and me (36) met thru-hiking the length of New Zealand on the Te Araroa Trail last year, where we hitchhiked out of necessity from the trail into towns and back. I was broke when I was twenty-three as well. But with a steady income and enough money for a bus ticket, I felt somewhat fraudulent and immoral to live like a vagabond with no roof over my head or means of transportation.

Our only direction and objective were to explore as many of Tasmania’s nineteen National Parks as possible during our thirty-day visit on the cheap. All I was carrying was a five-kilogram rucksack, and with no itinerary or agenda in my back pocket, I felt as light as a feather. But I had some hesitations about the unknowns ahead. Where we’d eat, sleep, and shit each day would be in the hands of the stranger behind the wheel.

Upon arrival we stood by the roadside on the outskirts of Launceston (or Lonny as the locals refer to it), holding our thumbs out with bright eyes and eager smiles. My arm began to cramp within the first few minutes, and I couldn’t help but become doubtful of our success, sweating in the unseasonable temperatures the island was experiencing in the final week of January this year, when bushfires were raging through half the state.

I was about to suggest we catch a bus, when a red pick-up truck pulled over, driven by a local man with his four-year-old daughter in the back seat. He mentioned he’d driven passed us twice already, deciding to swing back because he felt sorry for our unfortunate position along Highway 1.

“You’ll never get a ride here,” he told us bluntly, before driving us ten kilometres south for a better chance.

This first ride led to countless others, from people as varied as the vehicles they were driving.

I’d arrived with preconceived notions about the types of people who would stop for us, assuming they’d be driving painted vans with prayer flags and wearing colourful clothing with wooden beads in their hair. But during our 1,500-kilometre journey across Australia’s forgotten state, these stereotypes were demolished, replaced by the constant surprise of the vastness of people who stopped.

There was Carl, the baker from St Helens, who’d just finished his overnight shift at the Banjo’s franchise. A seven-year-old boy named Ancus on a weeklong trip from Hong Kong, who was forced to translate for his Chinese father. There was the Korean couple with their Dutch friend heading to a campsite in Swansea, Leanne from Ballarat in her campervan who made costumes for the local theatre, Jimi from Hobart battling depression, Beth and Barb touring the hops plantations near Mount Field, Davo the eccentric millionaire from North London, and Karly the debt collector, who was a single mother with a two-year-old kid.

Coles Bay, Freycinet National Park

Though we witnessed the sparkling blue waters of Wineglass Bay, the breathtaking cliffs of Cape Pillar, the rusty-orange rocks along the Bay of Fires, and the sun dipping its head beneath the horizon from the summit of Cradle Mountain, my greatest memories of Tasmania are the people and their stories. The state developed a certain charm and character, painted by the portraits of the people who drove us north and south.

Summit of Cradle Mountain

Every ride opened my eyes to something different. I learned about patching phone calls in Australia back in the 1960s, where to buy the best pizza in New Norfolk, how to sew the arm of a costume so that it slides off in an action sequence, and the best place to camp on the Three Capes Track. But everyone we met agreed on the same very thing. They all loved Tassie. If they were local, they wanted to keep the state a secret, and if they were from the mainland or travelling, they were making plans to move there.  

I discovered so much more than if we’d rented a car and remained in a tourist bubble. Why people stop to pick up strangers remains a mystery to me, but there’s something to be learned from these generous people, and I look forward to returning the favour some day soon.

Welcome to the New Year

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!

My life weighed in at 29.5kg

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.

Life in a constant state of transit

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.

Here we go 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!


A chance to retell the story

Last week when a friend of mine asked me to present my PCT hike to a group of Year 12 women at her high school, I felt honoured to be able to share my story again.


It has taken me months to appreciate that the trail has left a permanent impression on my life. It has become part of my mind, body and soul. The memories are so deeply engrained that there’s moments I feel I’m actually reliving them, only to realise that world is now oceans and mountains away, and months ago.

But it does shock me to think that this time last year I was on trail, very much still in the thick of things. In fact looking back at my blog, on this day last year, I was walking along the waterless Hat Creek Rim.


Yesterday I was buzzing with nerves and excitement as the group of 200 young women filled the sports hall and sat down attentively. I had changed my presentation slightly from when I visited Judi’s schools near Agua Dulce after the hike, and focused mainly on how I prepared, what I took, what I ate, and the highs and lows.


The reactions of the young women were priceless! They were shocked, laughed, oooooh’d and aaaaaah’d, and in the end the buzz in the room and interest from the teachers told me it was a success. Here’s a video of some of the highlights, (and a thank you to Marty for your highly professional iPhone filming!)

I jumped on a plane back to Sydney after the talk, for my last few days in Oz before my trip to Spain. When I arrived home, the yearbook Judi had sent me from Del Sur Junior High School was sitting on the kitchen table, with a page to commemorate my visit there in October. Thank you Judi for the copy, and for giving me that chance to come and speak to your students. Having the opportunity to inspire kids has been the most wonderful outcome of my PCT adventure!


Two months in transit

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!


What a beautiful backyard

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!



Reconnect with nature

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.


And the nominees are…

I got locked outside my friend’s house last night after hurtling through the streets of Melbourne on my motorbike which I haven’t ridden in a LONG time! I sat on her doorstep like a lost puppy until I put the free time to use to respond to Cat’s creative questions for the Liebster Award! Here we go…

1. What do you love most about trail life?
Simplicity, solitude, nature, and being acceptably filthy. Making coffee in my tent every morning is by far my most favourite trail routine.

2. What is the best advice you could give another hiker, no matter newbie or long time backpacker?
Hike as much as you can before your body falls to pieces.

3. Who is your secret (or not so secret) hero?
My Mum or ‘Mutti’!! (don’t worry dad, I love you just as much!)

4. What is the best descision you made in life?
All my best decisions are made when I go with my gut. Deciding to move to Vancouver in 2007 certainly set the stage for some pretty epic events and adventures to take place in my life. It also introduced me to a number of incredibly inspiring people.

5. What experience (hilarious, dangerous, totally weird or whatever) you made whilst hiking/travelling you’ll never ever forget?
The moment I was sitting on a huge rock at the top of a cliff in Malta overlooking the Mediterranean Sea, when my mind suddenly cleared and I realised all I wanted to do was have everything I needed on my back and just wander. That’s where my PCT journey really begun on September 30, 2012.

6. If your life would be a book, what would the title be?
Oh the places you’ll go! (if Dr. Seuss doesn’t mind me poaching it!)

7. Why do you blog?
Writing is incredibly therapeutic for me. If it inspires others to live out their dreams then even better!

8. What/who inspires you?
People who are genuinely happy with their lives no matter what they’re doing and people who don’t complain. When my sister was diagnosed with thyroid cancer 3 years ago she was the coolest, calmest person on the planet. During her diagnosis, treatment and recovery, she never once asked ‘why is this happening to me?’

9. What is the craziest thing you ever did? (Wait that might be the same question as nr. 4 haha)
Probably driving a three-wheeled auto rickshaw across India in 2010. I wasn’t 100% sure I’d come out of that one in a single piece.

10. Do you have a favorite trail? A favorite landscape? Or do you love it all :cP ?
My trail life has been short, but I’m not sure anything will ever beat the PCT. I have to say I loved the desert sections in Southern California minus the 50 odd miles between Walker Pass and Kennedy Meadows.

11. What is your biggest dream?
Short term: To hike the Te Araroa in New Zealand or another long distance trail.
Long term: To find myself a hiking partner!

Ok drum roll please… And my nominations for the 2014 Liebster Award go to the following bloggers…

1. Remote Leigh
2. Myla Hikes
3. The Otter’s Blog
4. Carrot Quinn
5. Moving Towards Freedom
6. Ravensong’s Roost
7. The Hiking Life
8. Anish Hikes
9. Jan’s Jaunts
10. So Many Miles
11. McShap’s PCT Journal

The people or blogs above were all introduced to me during or through the PCT in some way. I’m impressed by those who can write honestly, from the heart, unguarded, and can just be who they are! Cat would have been on this list and also Bobcat (HoboKitten), but he was also nominated by Cat. There’s so many more deserving folk out there and many who have inspired and continue to inspire me – but give it up for the 11 above on this occasion!

Now for the questions…

1. What did you want to be when you grew up?
2. What’s your most memorable dream?
3. Do you believe in fate and/or destiny?
4. What makes you really happy?
5. What’s the kindest thing another human-being has ever done for you?
6. What’s the kindest thing you’ve done in return?
7. Where does fear prevent you from travelling to?
8. If you could have one super power, what would it be?
9. Who would you most wish to sit next to on a 14-hour flight?
10. How do you make the world a better place?
11. Other than love, complete the sentence: All we need is….?

I look forward to seeing how these people discover this award (I think officially the awarder is meant to alert them via a comment on their blog, but I prefer a more organic approach!) and to read their responses! Thanks again Cat for handing me this opportunity and to those who continue to follow and support my writing and adventures!