A breathless life is one well lived.

I’m sorry.

It seems my life overtook my writing for the past month and as a result left the story of The Long Walk Home unfinished and sitting in limbo. Although only 2 months since I walked into town it feels like years since I finished it, and yet I still get butterflies thinking about how wonderful it was out there.

Not wanting the story to finish on getting chased by camels, which by the way I came face to face with outside the Birdsville Hotel recently (I swear it was planning an attack on me), it is time to write the last part of the story.

Back to the red sand, golden spinifex and cold nights, the last part of the story is about the people and the landscape. When people think of the desert I assume most would think of a barren, empty pocket of land with minimal human encounters and little life. Quite frankly I think even I thought this to an extent before setting off. I don’t think you can truly understand what the Simpson Desert has until you see it from the ground.

The golden spinifex tops swaying in the wind against the red sand of the early morning as the sun reflects off it.The animal prints in the track proving they have roamed the area under moonlight, searching for food and patrolling their territory.

Animal prints on the firm, cool early morning sand.

The look of frost on the sand as the sun strains to reach the dirt to warm it up. The sound of dingoes howling at night, or the noise of a little rat trying to steal parts of the bbq from right under your feet. The bitterly cold morning as you try and make yourself breakfast, the changing colours of the sand and the difference in terrain as you walk step after step.

The people of the journey also played a part in making it an experience to treasure. Meeting the son of a man who had walked it years ago and stopping for a chat with the hundreds of people that passed by. Hearing my parents plane closing in and having them drop chocolate care packages from the air, and running into a film crew whilst atop a dune.

Zoom in and you can see the care package off the tail of the plane! Photo : Steve Collins.

Listening to stories of people who had used the services of the RFDS, and even meeting another walker will all stay with me. On that note a 14 year old boy was walking the desert also and by chance happened to start a few hours after me from Dalhousie Springs. When he caught up just before Peoppel’s Corner we learnt that his Dad had succumbed to blisters after the first day and that he was going it alone. I take my hat off to the young lad who after borrowing a pair of my gaiters to keep the sand out of his shoes, shot off like a rocket never to be seen again by us but making it to Birdsville in one piece.

The people with me on the journey, those who we met, and the natural life that we observed in the desert have made the experience what it is, and I thank each and everyone of you who has supported my walk and helped me to achieve something amazing.

Some of my beautiful friends who supported me throughout the walk.

I am forever changed by The Long Walk Home, and I hope that every person reading this feels proud about what you have done and I firmly believe that the fundraising is an achievement of the people not me. Together you have raised $36,714 for the Royal Flying Doctor Service, and should feel immensely satisfied that you have helped support a service that is integral to all of Australia including rural, remote, coastal and metropolitan areas. I guarantee you that you have just helped to save a life and you never know but it could be your own.

Nothing can prepare you for life and nothing could of prepared me for the beauty of what laid beyond the horizon of the desert. I am forever grateful that I took an opportunity to see it from the ground and at a snails pace. The beauty of watching the full moon rise over the horizon, the adrenalin rush of having a pack of dingoes a mere 40m behind me before even realising they were following, or the utter amazement of looking up and seeing Wedge-Tailed Eagles circling 5m above me as they rode the wind currents over the dunes will live with me forever. There are a lot of places in this amazing world of ours that can take your breath away and the Simpson Desert is just one of them. So wherever you are in the world don’t forget to stop and look sometimes or you might just miss them. After all losing one breath to a magnificent sight is worth it, and if I lost all my breaths to the beauty of the world then it would be a life well lived.

My guardian angel soaring close on the wind currents.

As I sit here and write thank you for the last time, I can feel the knot start to form in my stomach that signals the end of something great. Signing off from the people who have followed the journey is far more difficult than finishing the walk, and so just once more I say thank you for all that you have done for the RFDS and for me. I will treasure this experience forever.

Jenna x

Camelus dromedarius.

A couple of nights ago I took a drive with some mates to track down Samantha Gash. Samantha was about 16km from Birdsville at the tail end of a non-stop run across the Simpson Desert. After some chit-chat and words of encouragement, we were just about to leave when one of her crew asked “are there really camels in the desert?”…

After remembering the image of a camel running across a dune towards me my reply was ”trust me, there are camels in the desert”. Returning later with beer for the crew, they seemed extremely disappointed that they hadn’t seen any camels during their crossing, while I was only wishing I hadn’t seen any.

Before I left for my walk I repeatedly thought that I really should call Andrew Harper who knows about camels and ask what I should do if I ever came upon them. As per usual I forgot to do this, and instead left town and hoped I would only run into happy camels.

That was not to be.

Although I regularly found myself walking along camel tracks each morning, I don’t think I ever really thought I would run into them, and if I did I just assumed they’d be a long way away from the track.

I was half right.

As I crested a dune early one morning, with my crew still back at camp, I noticed a set of tracks heading north off the road and along the dune. When I got near the bottom of this dune I looked to my left and noticed the silhouette of a camel on the ridge around 800m along it walking away from me. Thinking this was pretty cool I got to the flat ground and took a quick photo before continuing on my way and watching the camel do the same.

Or so I thought.

Looking back in its direction I could no longer see it and assumed it had crossed over the dune and was following a herd of camels whose prints I had crossed earlier.

Lesson 1: never assume.

As I reached the next dune I saw a camel running in its gangly uncoordinated fashion heading across the flat and up onto the dune that I was on. My heart immediately started to pound and what I liked to call “survival instincts” kicked in. Firstly, I thought “WHY, WHY, WHY didn’t I call Andrew and find out how to evade an angry camel!!!”. With that thought aside I focussed on working out how to get away from this giant creature running towards me and looking like it either thought I smelt like a female camel, or like another bull camel coming in to take his ladies away.

Given the crew and I had already repeatedly been called camels numerous times by people in their vehicles as they either followed our prints or saw us on dunes up ahead, I like to think the camel was just confused. On a side note to anyone who called us camels in the desert, I never realised camels wore sneakers with the Brooks logos on them.

Back on track, I knew I wouldn’t be able to outrun the camel so that idea was out, nor was it possible to get downwind of it, so that left getting out of sight and not making any noise. After making what felt like a mayday call to the crew, I threw my bag off in the opposite direction, thankfully remembered to grab my radio off it, and broke right down the dune face to crouch behind some spinifex grass. Watching the camel through the waving spinifex tops standing what felt like 50m away, I crawled on my haunches across to a taller shrub hoping that Mr. Camel wouldn’t notice me moving and eventually managed to stand upright, keeping one eye on the camel and one eye on the horizon praying Clare and Alex would make a mad max style entrance.

At one point I made a very hushed call on the radio through gritted teeth and said something along the lines of “PLEASE COME FASTER”. Thinking my days were over I had one last ditch idea left, and that was that if Mr. Camel spotted me I would curl myself around the trunk of the shrub in the foetal position, and hope that the leaves would give me some sort of shelter so long as it didn’t look down. Given they probably weigh close to a tonne, I doubt leaves would of saved me from a painful crushing death, but it was my last idea apart from running like a kid from “The God’s Must be Crazy” across the flat.

Mr. Camel left his mark. He was big.

Eventually Mr. Camel and his mate who had also turned up started off back down the dune and headed off the direction they were going earlier, although they were always stopping to look back. Once they were gone my support crew turned up in less mad max style then I had hoped for, but it was a relief knowing they were there. We spent some time working out where the camels actually were and it turns out they were more like 100m away from me, and had left lots of camel poo and pee as if to say “stay out of our territory”.

Needless to say my crew were not allowed to go very far away from me for a few days after that.

Given this was also the day that Casino was agitated, she really topped my morning off by saying “I would of paid to see you get chased by camels”. Thanks Cas.

It was a pleasure.

When I took the first steps of The Long Walk Home it was the culmination of months of training and organising, living a life that consisted of practically 2 full time jobs and part-time study. The lead up to the walk was the most difficult situation I have willingly put myself in, both time wise and on a personal level given I find asking people for help or money extremely uncomfortable. It was the end of the most intense period of my life where something had to be done every single day and where never a moment, whether it be while awake or asleep, went by that the walk wasn’t at the forefront of thoughts occupying my head space. If there weren’t sponsorship letters to write, fundraising activities to organise, work to go to or assignments to be submitted, there was training to do, housework to finish, thank you letters to write and a dog to walk.

The start of the walk was the beginning of my holiday.

I never once thought I would describe walking across the Simpson Desert as a pleasure, but that is exactly what it was.  It was a pleasure to be surrounded by one of the most unique parts of our country, and to hear the birds chirp, the dingoes howl and the rats squeak. It was a pleasure to watch the satellites overhead, the full moon rise above the dunes and the sun set beyond the horizon. It was not however a pleasure to wake up to ice in the morning, get chased by camels, followed by dingoes, or walk on an inflamed Achilles, but I suppose in the grand scheme of things these are just minor details. The desert willingly gave me more than I could of imagined, and I think more than I will ever realise.

I am fairly confident that my experience of walking the desert is slightly different to most. It wasn’t a race to win, or to be able to rattle off numbers and times at the end, nor was it an attempt to be the first to do it in some different way to others, and nor was I doing it for someone else. I was doing it first and foremost for myself, at a speed that I was comfortable with, and quite frankly I don’t think there are many firsts left given the area was occupied by Indigenous people for thousands of years (however I have since found out that next week a lady is going to attempt a non-stop run across…yes I said non-stop – no sleeping). Although I wanted to raise as much awareness of the RFDS as possible, for me personally I didn’t need nor particularly care if anybody was interested in the story because it was purely about satisfying a goal of mine for me and me alone.

Before I started the walk many would ask why I was doing it and my response was usually “because it will be a challenge”. However since finishing the walk I now know that the desert wasn’t necessarily ‘the’ challenge for me, the challenge was in the preparation and the training, the walk was simply the end result of it and finishing it any faster then was absolutely necessary would mean I would possibly miss out on things.

As I read this over I think I have managed to make the desert seem like this easy stroll, or a walk in the park so to speak, but it’s not. There are still over 900 sand dunes to climb, over 400km to walk, and lots of things that could go wrong. For me though, the 900+ never seemed too many, at the end of the 400k I had a wonderful community waiting to welcome me home, and thankfully nothing too bad did go wrong. I had a lot of luck on my side with weather and animal encounters, but in all honesty I think it was the preparation and support that I had right from the very start that made it what it was.

Firstly, there was the support of family and friends when the idea first popped into my head, which made me believe I could do it. Then there was the selfless act by my support crew to choose to spend their holidays driving at a snail’s pace across 900+ dunes waiting for me to catch up. Then there was Michael, who it isn’t possible to thank enough for the work that he put in to ensure that my body was capable of what I was about to put it through. And lastly there was Olivia Warnes, the sports dietician who helped me prepare and plan my meals, snacks and fluid replacement throughout the day, to ensure that my energy levels stayed constant and where they needed to be.

These people along with everyone who has supported, sponsored and donated, had me ready to go when June 25^th came around, and gave me the ability to enjoy the walk rather than fall into an exhausted heap each night wishing the desert would open up and swallow me. Like I said earlier, the walk was the start of my holiday.

Crossing a salt lake near Poeppel Corner

My body held up throughout the walk and I can actually honestly say that the only time a muscle hurt was on day 13 when Clare had to get the deep heat out, and rub my calf muscle to the point I nearly cried. On good advice I chose to take magnesium each night, as well as get regular massages from Casino, and managed to wake up every morning feeling as fit as a fiddle and ready to push on. It is a credit to the work of Michael, Olivia, the crew and good shoes, that apart from a brush with nasty heat rash during the first couple of days, I was able to recover fully each night and only managed to acquire one little blister on the top of a toe for the entire walk.

Ouch, Ouch, Ouch!!!

Enjoying my massage.

The camera makes them look nicer then in real life.

In saying that I did manage to pick up an Achilles issue half way through the walk, and with some help from painkillers I somehow carried it through to the end. At times it literally made me want to shed a tear, or maybe even vomit a little as it felt like I was walking on a massive raw blister on the back of my heel (however there wasn’t one), that was getting a knife stuck into it with every single stride. I am told it is called Achilles bursitis. I am also told the last 200km I walked with it probably didn’t help the situation. I suggest never trying it. After taking half a rest day to see if it would settle down, my only choice left was to start popping painkillers which I did until they made me feel spaced out, nauseous and walking in a slightly crooked direction. On day 14 I received a new type of painkiller that took the edge off just in time for the last day of walking!

“And here is the rare Gumbious Bootious species found only in the Simpson Desert”. My mates keeping me amused while my heel pain wore on.

Although wounds and scars are sometimes part of taking on adventures like this, I didn’t want to arrive back home with shredded feet, wasted muscles and a body that took months to recover. As much as it would have made this story far more interesting, it would of made the walk a nightmare. I wanted to be prepared for what I was literally walking into, I wanted to know how my body would react, and most importantly I wanted to be able to enjoy the desert. Obviously I didn’t train by walking 400km across the desert, but I knew what my body was capable of on the dunes before I started which helped. I think that in most cases careful preparation and acknowledgement of what you are entering goes a long way in preventing unpleasant incidents and injuries.

Where’s Jenna?

Happy Canada Day to my Canadians!

I don’t ever remember feeling like I had walked 100, 200 or even 300 kilometres, all I ever really felt like was that I had walked for a long time that day and some days I would be tired when I got into camp, and some days I would stay up later then Clare! The only thing that I can put this down to is preparation and training. Having the desert on my doorstep allowed me train over the exact terrain and enabled me to get my head around what it looks like, how the sand feels and how fast I could actually walk. Throughout the walk I found myself walking on average 1km/hr faster than I had planned, and where I could have then chosen to walk an extra 8km per day, I instead chose to finish 2 hours earlier to spend time with the crew, and relax and recover. To me there was no benefit in finishing any earlier then I had intended, even though I did end up coming in a day earlier then expected.

Finding these markers was great for the mind, not sure about their numbering though…hmmm.

Each day I was extremely methodical in my hydration and food intake and would religiously stop every single hour for 10 minutes to eat my snack and drink my fluids. At times I would even instruct the support crew to stop in “about um….550m”, which seems a little pedantic I know, but as I walked further I could accurately judge how far I would walk in any given timeframe. In setting the days up like this there was always a break coming up, the energy levels stayed constant, and we could count in how many breaks until lunch or camp (i.e. 1, 2 or 3) rather then in hours. It may seem minor but planning is so crucial to success and not just for the physical side of the walk, but also and almost to a greater extent for the mental side.

Break time – Casino sitting in Queensland, South Australia and the Northern territory.

Knolls Track Junction

Even though some people may read this and think it sounds easy, there is nothing easy about walking over dune after dune, but I think that unlike some people who cross the desert on foot, I enjoyed the whole experience in each moment rather than just the finishing part. Towards the end my crew seemed to know when I was in pain and when to walk with me, even if they didn’t know it. I have been asked if there was ever a time when I thought it was too hard, but nothing is ever really too hard because “It does not matter how slowly you go, so long as you do not stop”. With a little uvumilivu (perseverance), a top support crew, a good pair of shoes and some painkillers, I never really had a reason to even think about giving up.

A wave of encouragement and chocolate falling from the sky…

On Wednesday, Jenna’s parents planned to fly over the Simpson Desert and drop Jenna a parcel of much-deserved chocolate. I was lucky to be able to tag along with them and threw Jenna a parcel that contained the comments that have been posted on this blog since she left that I have been unable to approve for publication on the blog. But, she is getting your words of support!

David and Nell Brook departed on Wednesday afternoon and reached Jenna as she approached Poeppel’s Corner, the junction of the Queensland, South Australia and Northern Territory borders. She was 6kms short of the corner when we flew overhead and she had stopped for the afternoon, ready to relax for a few hours before walking over 30 kms the following day.

From the air, we could see the group waving and were glad to hear Jenna’s voice on the UHF radio. She seemed very glad to hear from her parents and sounded like the walk was going very well. In fact, she may even be slightly ahead of schedule and maybe, hopefully, will be in Birdsville a day earlier than anticipated. However, time will tell and for now we’ll rest content that she’s approaching home, is healthy, enjoying her time in the desert and is raising more and more money for the RFDS every day.

The Outback Loop outshines itself.

For the past 6 months I have been working with staff of The Outback Loop raising awareness and funds for the RFDS. Throughout this time they have been amazingly considerate, accommodating and generous. For those who don’t know The Outback Loop: it is an itinerary. The Loop encompasses 2 tracks, 2 pubs and one experience.

After making their way along the Birdsville Track visitors are met with warm hospitality, cold beer, tasty food and excellent accommodation when they visit the Birdsville Hotel. Standing on the corner opposite the airport, the pub has a historical place in outback Australia and lives up to its reputation with many a yarn spun whilst sitting at the bar. No one quite knows what makes the Birdsville Hotel special, you have to experience it for yourself.

After doing so visitors can continue along the Loop via Cordillo Downs or the Arrabury Road to Innamincka. Perched on the edge of the gorgeous Cooper Creek, the Innamincka Hotel provides the visitor with something a little different in the isolated far north west corner of South Australia. Plating up delectable food every night using the finest South Australian ingredients, you’ll surprise your taste buds when the food hits them. Be sure to take a look around the town, a stroll by the river and a film at the starlight cinema, before retiring to your new and comfortable accommodation at the Hotel. Feeling refreshed after a restful night visitors can then complete the Outback Loop by travelling south along the Strezlecki Track to Lyndhurst.

Throughout The Long Walk Home journey I have been lucky to have the support of the staff at the Birdsville Hotel and through their Friday night raffles and other events we have raised around $3000 for the RFDS. I am very much looking forward to walking in the door of the hotel at the end of the walk and ordering my usual…bubbles (aka soda water)!

For more about The Outback Loop click here.

Birdsville Roadhouse snaps up a sponsor spot!

I would like to welcome the Birdsville Roadhouse to the coveted role of a Long Walk Home sponsor. The Birdsville Roadhouse is run by Peter and Bronwynne Barnes and their crew of tireless employees who never fail to put a smile on the faces of those passing through. Behind the counter you’ll find Bronwynne, Kathy and Kelly, who are always up for a chat. Out the back, Peter (Barnes’y) and Sam can be found fixing all sorts of vehicles and machinery.

Providing fuel, tyres, groceries, ice, camping equipment and sound mechanical advice and labour to those who need it (as well as driving advice to those who need it but don’t necessarily want it), the Roadhouse provides travellers with some creature comforts including mint slices when available and delicious Beerenberg gourmet jams. You can even pick up a freshly roasted chook if you get in early enough. The friendly staff will be able to point you in the right direction when travelling through the area and will make sure you know about all of the things to see and do while in town.

Barnes’y also functions as the RACQ operator in the area. So, if you ever get into a pickle, he’ll be out to fix you up or pick you up as soon as he can. He’s got an array of recovery vehicle options ranging from a Land Cruiser and snatch strap to an impressive ex-German army MAN truck.

I am extremely grateful for the support of the Birdsville Roadhouse and I look forward to working with them over the next few weeks to make sure I set off with all of the right food (and maybe a few mint slices too!).

THANK YOU.

THANK YOU.

Thank you.

Thank you for your support throughout the preparations. It has been overwhelming and I am still in a little disbelief that we have reached the goal before I have even started walking.

Thank you to each and everyone of you who have put your money towards the RFDS whether it be twenty cents or a thousand dollars, every bit has added up.

Thank you from everyone who has ever needed the service of the RFDS.

Thank you.

Content. Happy. Beautiful.

When I look back to when I started training for The Long Walk Home I was a bit of a rogue student of my own teaching. Thinking the best way to train for walking across the desert would be to walk across the desert, I started by running up and down a sand dune just north of town. My legs hated me for it, and as it was the middle of summer the rest of my body didn’t think to highly of me either.

After putting the call out for someone who actually knew what they were doing, I received a few emails and decided upon one individual who had just finished his university degree in Exercise Physiology. As such I figured all the important stuff would still be in his head, or at the very least he would still know where his text books are to pretend like he knew what he was doing. He was tasked with getting me fit enough to cross the Simpson Desert by foot, and attempting to ensure that my body wouldn’t fail me when it counted most.

When I read his very first training week a few questions went through my mind including who is this guy?, did he really just finish university?, and how on earth will walking on a treadmill for 30 mins three times a week get me fit enough’? As he explained the process and science behind what I perceived as madness, it became less mad. Realising my best opportunity to make a succesful crossing would be to 1. remain injury free and 2. ensure my leg muscles have lots of kilometers underneath them, I started to gain an understanding of his program and could accurately guess the minutes, sets and reps I’d be in for that week.

In the past 5 months training has gradually grown from about 2 hours per week, to around 7 hours, and I can confirm that my heart is far more efficient than when I started, and my leg muscles are finally getting some definition to them. For me, the most important tool in my training (apart from a little motivation), is a little black strap: my heart rate monitor. After I was given this for a christmas present last year, it has become both my enemy and my friend as it tells me when I need to work harder (unfortunately), and when I can stop (gratefully).

Throughout training my heart rate has been my comparison tool, and each week I am given a certain number of minutes during which I need to keep my heart rate at a certain level. During my training there have been ebbs and flows, some weeks my muscles tire before my heart, while at other times my heart tires before my muscles. On a few occasions I have tried a little experiment to see how low I can get my heart rate while at rest: so far the lowest is around 48 and the other night I bottomed out at 52. However overall when I look back to 5 months ago, I can safely say that I am leaps and bounds ahead of where I started.

Although I have gradually realised this throughout the training, the pivitol moment came only a few weeks ago when I was bored walking on the treadmill and instead started to run. For anyone that knows me well, they know that I do not run. I have never experienced the joy that runners say they feel, and have always thought they were rather loose in the mind when they would speak of how exhilarating running can be. Quite frankly I used to tune out when they would start to speak.

When I started running the other day though, I didn’t tire like I used to and my legs continued on their merry way, keeping time with the black conveyor belt beneath my feet. When my time was up I had been running for more than 30 minutes, which is about 25 minutes longer then I have ever run (apart from one school holidays when I ran to the bridge and back in Birdsville…once). I was utterly bemused at how my body had just continued to run, so much so that I sent the following text to Michael advising him of my recent conquest.

Jenna – “You are AMAZING!!! I got bored with walking so I started running on the treadmill. I actually RAN! I don’t run. I ran Michael, I ran! For a whole 30mins and breathed through my nose the whole time. So proud of myself. WOW!!!”

….

Michael – “Haha I was under the impression you hated running? You told me at the start that you absolutely did not want to run …”

I sounded like a little kid who had just won the long jump at sports day, but it was so exciting to realise what a change my body had been through. Admittedly my back and neck were sore the next day from the impact of running, but never the less I now use running intervals to build up my endurance rather then uphill walking. A precursor to realising I could run was the fact that I had a few problems with a foot and had been cycling for nearly 6 weeks before getting back on the treadmill again. After cycling for that long, walking on a treadmill was mind numbing so I started running.

Without ever having the goal of being able to run, I found myself with the skills and ability to put one foot in front of the other at a pace a little faster than a tortoise. Had my goal been to learn how to run, and I use the term learn because I think it is an accurate one, I would not have enjoyed the realisation that I could actually do it, nearly as much.

Knowing how much hard work has gone into getting myself where I am today, I am completely baffled at how anyone can expect overnight results with regards to weight loss and training progress. There is nothing easy about hard work. Even with the hard work, looking at me from the outside it would be easy to say that my body hasn’t changed in accordance with what would be expected, and jumping on the scales it is even more easier to say there hasn’t been any change. Thankfully, I take little notice of these numbers, and realise that internally my body is far more efficient than it has ever been, with less strain being put on my heart and more fat having been turned to muscle.

Although outwardly I was always quite self confident thanks to a loving family, inwardly you always have this nagging feeling which is hard to describe. I suppose that when I looked at myself both physically and mentally I would immediately see what I thought other people saw, and would think about how I could change it from that perspective. It took a lot of growing up from my end and a few testing lessons along the way to realise this, and to now be able to see it differently. To me, being content and happy with who are on the inside is a far harder lesson to learn then being content and happy with your outward appearance and behaviour. The process of training and preparing for The Long Walk Home has brought up a lot of home truths and through them has left me feeling content, happy and beautiful…inside and out.

No longer do I look at my training as something that needs to be done for a specific goal, but rather other parts of my life need to fit around it. Although it doesn’t run my life, the spark you get from realising the good you are doing your body does have its own certain drawcards. It took me time to realise this and get to the point where it became a part of my daily life,  and in many ways I am lucky to enjoy the hard work of aiming for The Long Walk Home. So with less than 4 weeks to go, 3 of which I am sure will leave me with a few more choice words for Michael as my legs scream for mercy, it has been a hard and challenging journey preparing for the walk across the Simpson Desert, but I wouldn’t change it for the world.

I am counting in days now…30 to be precise.

Greetings from a chilly Birdsville!

The past week has been a non-stop ride of organising, training, eating, working and sleeping. My personal favourite of these being the sleeping, however the cold weather has also brought the disgruntled shiver from my body when I peek my head above the doona and feel the chilly air meet my nose and ears. Given the days are sunny with a blue sky and averaging 20+ degrees I can’t complain too much.

I have just received word that Walter Leven has arrived in Birdsville on his ride from Adelaide to Mt. Isa and back again via Broken Hill. Walter is also raising money for the RFDS and chose to do so after hearing about The Long Walk Home. I look forward to catching up with him while he is in town and getting a photo outside the Birdsville Hotel of the two RFDS fundraisers.

In other news of the walk I can confirm that the fundraising tally has reached $15,500 and it is all thanks to you. With a month still to go we are more than three quarters of the way to reaching the goal which is a great effort by all involved. If you would like to donate to the RFDS you can do so by clicking here.

I would like to make mention of The Watermark Hotel, where the Adelaide fundraiser was held, who have donated $1000 to the RFDS through The Long Walk Home. The support of David Elms and his crew is very much appreciated and it is great to see the RFDS being recognised and supported throughout the country.

Last weekend, a radio interview I did through ABC Western QLD was broadcast nationally on Macca’s Sunday morning program. Needless to say it was a huge surprise to me when I received a phone call from my dentist who had heard it in Adelaide. I was also very humbled by a lady last night in the hotel who said she heard me on the radio and wanted to donate when she arrived in Birdsville. It is always wonderful to speak with people about my walk and realise the impact that one person can have with a bit of perserverence. While at the Birdsville Hotel last night we held a raffle to raise funds for the RFDS and gave away a vast array of prizes from cooked chooks to bar mats and panda hats.

The past week has seen organising move to new heights with my preliminary food order being placed with the Birdsville Roadhouse. Working out I needed 10 cartons of tin tuna, 15kg of mince and 48L of milk certainly put the scale of the walk into perspective. One benefit of walking with a support crew is that I don’t have to skimp on too many things, so add to that some chicken, beans and numerous carbohydrates, as well as a few packets of mint slices and I think I should be fairly well fed throughout the walk. On the otherhand I doubt I will ever want to eat another tin of chicken or 4 bean mix again.

After food comes medical preparation so I spent this morning at our fantastic clinic working with Lauren to put into place a medical plan, taking into consideration medical supplies and medications. I think she was well entertained with my relaxed view on it and the fact that most of my replies started with “now…was I getting that was I?”, and with my failure to have got any relevant phone numbers of nearby properties…as yet. Needless to say I spent the next hour on the internet ordering ankle tape, blister pads, ice packs and nurofen, as well as thinking “I really should find those numbers”, but never actually doing it.

After finding a free hour at 9pm last night to go train at the gym, I have somehow managed to use up the hours in this day and as such will probably be leaving the gym around the same time again. Michael assured me this week was my taper week, however given that with less training comes more time to fill in doing other things, I think I have been just as busy. It is my goal for this week to write a post about my training progress, so be sure to either follow the blog or check back later in the week if you would like to know the ins and outs and ups and downs of training to walk across a desert…just in case the urge ever grabs you.

Thanks for reading and don’t forget to get on board and donate if you can

From the desert to the prairies and back again.

After arriving back from Canada less than 48 hours ago I found myself wide awake at 4am this morning wondering what on earth I was going to do for the next 3 hours before the sun came up. Enjoying the fact that I could go outside in my pyjamas without freezing, I followed Chevy out and found myself standing on the front lawn in the glow of a couple of street lights down the road, the half-moon above me and a sky filled with stars. Across the road the caravan park was dark and quiet, surprisingly no dogs were barking or running the streets, and the wind almost had a warmth to it which is very odd for this time of year. Whilst out there I started thinking about the fact that in 45 days I will be starting my walk across the desert and will have the opportunity to spend every night looking up at clear skies, watching the stars pulse in the night sky, listening to the howl of the dingoes, and enjoying the solitude of being nothing more than a speck in the vastness of the Simpson Desert. That to me is pretty close to pure bliss.

What is not pure bliss is training in the cold with wind blowing into your face on a flat muddy road in the prairies of Canada. Although the place is practically my second home, and my friends and adopted families are wonderful, I am not going to pretend that walking in their weather is enjoyable. When I read Michael’s training plan for my trip over there, and read the corresponding weather forecast my jaw dropped a little wondering how my extremities would handle walking in those temperatures. Relative to their winter the weather was quite nice considering the temperatures were in the plus, and I will happily admit that when the sun did make an appearance, the 15 degrees seemed quite nice. Given the sun only came out on the day I left though, the ‘quite nice’ day was null and void to me. For the better part of my trip it was cloudy, drizzling, windy and cold. Not exactly the best weather for motivation.

On one morning I awoke from my spot on the couch, passed my friends in the kitchen, opened the front door, yelled “go away rain”, then proceeded back to my spot on the couch again.

Unfortunately this did not have the desired effect.

Realising the weather gods were not going to play nice I eventually ventured out most days, however never for as long as I was supposed to. Let’s just hope these 2 weeks weren’t “vital” for preparation.

It was a bit chilly!

The result of walking into a cold wind. Brrrr!

Speaking of preparation, given my fitness is in the hands of Michael and all I have to do is what he says, I am now focusing on pulling together the resources to ensure that not only do I make it to the other end, but that we get as much publicity for the work of the RFDS as possible. Kelly Theobald is a fantastic journalist who moved to Birdsville last year and is in the process of contacting every type of media we can think of. On top of that my sister is tweeting about the news as it arises (Karen Brook), you can like the Facebook page to keep up to date with the daily happenings, and you can also follow this blog so that whenever I write something new it will be delivered straight to your inbox (click ‘latest news’ above, and then the follow button on the right hand side of the page and follow the directions). We have just had an article published in the latest edition of the RFDS magazine (see below), as well a two page spread in the North West Star newspaper which was very exciting and a huge thanks goes to Sarah Norris for the great writing.

If anyone out there has a great idea for publicity, or works for someone who might be interested in running a story on the walk you can contact me at thelongwalkhome2012@gmail.com.

Fundraising in still going strong and we are approaching the $14,000 mark, which given the goal is $20,000 is a fantastic effort by all involved. If you would like to donate to the RFDS click ‘donate now’ at the top of the page and follow the links. This weekend Birdsville is holding its annual Bronco Branding and we will be auctioning a signed and numbered (179/250) Hugh Sawrey print titled ‘Discussing Tactics’, which was kindly donated by The Australian Stockman’s Hall Of Fame.

I have also just uploaded a couple more photos to the gallery page, and will continue to do so on a more regular occasion from now on…I promise. Although the website has been a little quiet of late, I hope to pick this up as we have a few more sponsors on board and will be releasing these details shortly. If you are interested in becoming a sponsor you still have time and can contact me on the above email address for a sponsor pack.

Thanks again to everyone for their support and kind words and if you haven’t read it or shared it with friends as of yet, check out the last post by RFDS pilot Michael Flood titled “Toilet paper to the rescue”.