I could not believe I’d lost sight of the person in front of me.
I’d been paying attention to the back of their head for several hours, but once the rain had started, I’d looked down, watching where I was placing my feet.
Suddenly, I looked up, and they were gone.
I could not believe they’d left me behind.
– ⋅ o ♥ o ⋅ –
The day had started like any other day. Blue skies and sunshine. The temperature was mild, not hot and sticky, and with the absence of a storm warning, the weather seemed to be perfect for going on a bushwalk.
My husband and I had been walking ‘off the beaten track’ for several months and decided to join a bushwalking club. Surely we had lots to learn about walking through the Australian bush. What to take, how much water to carry, what to do if someone got hurt. All important vital aspects of surviving the unexpected.
With an air of excitement we arrived at the Scout Hall and were scarcely through the door before we were handed forms that had to be completed. The forms were compulsory. So was the temporary membership fees and the four ‘walks’ we had to complete within six months before our membership could be upgraded to the full member status. Following a majority vote by the current voting members to accept us as full members of course.
All politics aside, we were excited.
We were about to become ’professional’ bushwalkers, and we left that evening with a temporary password to access the club’s website so we could log on, peruse the scheduled walks, and register our interest in being invited to attend by the team leader of the scheduled walk.
It all seemed very official and well organised to me and two months later, when all the technical issues were finally worked out and our access established, we registered for every available walk scheduled for the next four months.
I can hardly describe my joy when, only three weeks later, a team leader emailed me to say I was accepted to join the group, but unfortunately, there was no spot for my husband.
When I explained we walk together, I was scratched from that walk.
Eventually, and only because we offered to be an escort vehicle, ferrying other walkers to the designated starting point, we were both accepted to join an over 40’s group.
This prospect excited me. Walkers over 40 can’t walk that fast can they? I’ll easily keep up and not get left behind won’t I?
How could I have been so wrong?