Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
tery ditch, I was forced to put on a beanie and full-length clothing, the mosquitoes
having reached an intolerable level.
When sleep finally claimed me, I was plagued with nightmares about my solo
trip in Arctic Lapland over a year ago.
I had undertaken the solo journey in spring, as part of the wilderness guide
course. At night, the temperature in Lapland drops below zero, while during the
day it is high enough to melt the snow and ice. The traditional way of travelling in
these conditions is to sleep during the day and ski across the frozen crust at night. I
had planned a long and arduous route that relied on good conditions. As a precau-
tion, I was required to visit a checkpoint on a certain date, otherwise a search party
would come looking for me.
Unfortunately, I struck unusual weather. The temperature didn't drop low
enough during the night, and I found myself sinking into melting waist-deep snow.
My pace was slowed to less than one kilometre an hour, and for four days I didn't
see a soul. For three days, I was forced to travel non-stop for twenty-two hours. I
fell through river ice and only by chance managed to scramble out. Sheer exhaus-
tion left me dangerously close to hypothermia. I made it close enough to the check-
point to be found before the alarm was raised for a rescue party.
The unfortunate experience had well and truly crushed my confidence in doing
things alone. I thought I saw a pattern emerging: when I was part of a group, even
if I was leading it, things tended to go right. Alone, even the fires didn't seem to
burn as well.
Now, as I reflected on my dream, I realised that my bad luck had nothing to do
with a curse. Problems were a part of all journeys and an integral part of life. If I
could confront my fears head on, then maybe I could regain the confidence to deal
with things by myself.
Casting a look down the road, I reflected that there was another day ahead. It
was an opportunity to overcome my self-taunts. There would be no more hiding.
As I pedalled on, it was easy to lose track of time. My daze was broken now and
then by a passing horse and cart, and children on mushroom hunts. In villages, and
from brief conversations with fishermen on the road-sides, I began to hear stories
about Chris. Occasionally, children raced up to ask how many there were in the
race. In some of the smaller settlements, word had spread about the Australian rid-
ing an armchair on wheels. When I arrived the villagers mistook me for Chris and
shouted, 'The Australian has returned!'
