we still think of hometown feelings

After a day of walking, we set up a bush camp on a patch of scrub 20 metres off the trail. There is something specialabout this opportunistic camp site, made precious by its transience. Together and alone under a blanket of stars.

The full moon rises over a tent

There are crumbling cliffs on either side of Hugh Gorge and, as we enter, we scramble between boulders, trying to keep ourselves out of deep pools of ice-cold water.

Then an unfortunate realisation: I’ve miscalculated my food allowance and I am short two days’ worth of food in my second drop.

So lunch is simplified to a nub of pepperoni washed down with water – so salty and mouthwateringly good. Dinner becomes a tin of tuna in instant soup and it’s delicious. Turns out food tastes even better when there’s less of it.

After another tough day, our group makes it to Standley Chasm. The walk is only 15km to 16km long but there’s a steep climb out of Hugh Gorge and up to Brinkley’s Bluff.

alleyway and the site is a popular tourist attraction run by the Iwupataka Aboriginal Land Trust, with a kiosk/restaurant, toilet, shower blocks and picnic tables. The kiosk offers a five-course meal for those looking to diverge from dehydrated food supplies, which is all of us.

Redbank Gorge

With three days to go, I’m feeling good – with one exception. I’ve developed a knot in my shoulder so strong that I can’t physically lift my left arm over my head. I’ve been ignoring the constant pain, convincing myself it’s part of long-distance hiking with a heavy pack, but seeing myself in the mirror for the first time in 10 days is confronting. My entire spine seems to be crookedand my left shoulder is three centimetres lower than my right. I hope this new hunchback look is not permanent.

I decide to head out alone on the last few days, although I plan to meet up with the others for meals at night. Although this decision doesn’t go down smoothly with my companions, I realise I function better throughout a day’s hike if I get an early start.

Within the first hour, I know I’ve made the right choice. My mind and body are in sync and, for a handful of hours, I feel like I’m part of the flow of this ancient land.

I arrive at Simpsons Gap in the early afternoon positively buzzing. Rozza and Romain arrive separately over the next few hours.

It’s my final night on the trail, and there’s an orange glow off in the distance. A bushfire is burning about 10km south of our campsite.

The night air is still. Smoke billows directly above the flames without reaching us. We watch the fire increase in size but we can’t hear or smell it. As we watch from the top of the Simpson Gap shelter, Rozza calls the emergency services. They tell us five fire trucks are out battling it and to “not do anything stupid like get in a car and drive towards the blaze”. Not bloody likely.

Rocky cliffs above Standley Chasm

The final day of the trail is the hardest. So much for the zen-like flow state of yesterday, it seems 15 days and 200-odd kilometres have finally caught up with me. My shoulder still aches and I am only able to go a few kilometres before being forced to stop and rest.

Tough, tough, tough. Euro Ridge provides a spectacular view of my destination, with Alice Springs only about 10km in the distance, but I’ve hit a wall. My feet feel like lead while my shoulders are on fire.

With 3km to go, a mountain biker stops to look at me, remarking, “You look like you’ve come a long way.”

Six hundred metres out and I meet a couple well into their 70s – they easily outpaced me and my weary bones.

The end, when it comes, is outwardly anti-climactic. I sign the logbook inside a shelter at the old Alice Springs telegraph station just outside of town, and that’s it.

Inside, I’m experiencing a wave of satisfaction. There is no cheering crowd, no one to welcome this weary traveller, but that makes it all the more personal. There’s nothing that compares to the peace that follows endeavour, and as I lie down on the grass, the sense of calm is almost overwhelming.

"San Francisco. He's an ugly brute, I admit. Half-witted, you know. Can't remember where he came from. But I'm used to him, you know. We both are. How does he strike you?"
"He's unnatural," I said. "There's something about him--don't think me fanciful, but it gives me a nasty little sensation, a tightening of my muscles, when he comes near me. It's a touch--of the diabolical, in fact."
Montgomery had stopped eating while I told him this. "Rum!" he said. "I can't see it." He resumed his meal. "I had no idea of it," he said, and masticated. "The crew of the schooner must have felt it the same. Made a dead set at the poor devil. You saw the captain?"
Suddenly the puma howled again, this time more painfully. Montgomery swore under his breath. I had half a mind to attack him about the men on the beach. Then the poor brute within gave vent to a series of short, sharp cries.
"Your men on the beach," said I; "what race are they?"
"Excellent fellows, aren't they?" said he, absentmindedly, knitting his brows as the animal yelled out sharply.
I said no more. There was another outcry worse than the former. He looked at me with his dull grey eyes, and then took some more whiskey. He tried to draw me into a discussion about alcohol, professing to have saved my life with it. He seemed anxious to lay stress on the fact that I owed my life to him. I answered him distractedly.
Presently our meal came to an end; the misshapen monster with the pointed ears cleared the remains away, and Montgomery left me alone in the room again. All the time he had been in a state of ill-concealed irritation at the noise of the vivisected puma. He had spoken of his odd want of nerve, and left me to the obvious application.
I found myself that the cries were singularly irritating, and they grew in depth and intensity as the afternoon wore on. They were painful at first, but their constant resurgence at last altogether upset my balance. I flung aside a crib of Horace I had been reading, and began to clench my fists, to bite my lips, and to pace the room. Presently I got to stopping my ears with my fingers.
The emotional appeal of those yells grew upon me steadily, grew at last to such an exquisite expression of suffering that I could stand it in that confined room no longer. I stepped out of the door into the slumberous heat of the late afternoon, and  entrance--locked again, I noticed--turned the corner of the wall.
The crying sounded even louder out of doors. It was as if all the pain in the world had found a voice. Yet had I known such pain was in the next room, and had it been dumb, I believe--I have thought since--I could have stood it well enough. It is when suffering finds a voice and sets our nerves quivering that this pity comes troubling us. But in spite of the brilliant sunlight and the green fans of the trees waving in the soothing sea-breeze, the world was a confusion, blurred with drifting black and red phantasms, until I was out of earshot of the house in the chequered wall.
Chapter 9 The Thing In The Forest
I STRODE through the undergrowth that clothed the ridge behind the house, scarcely heeding whither I went; passed on through the shadow of a thick cluster of straight-stemmed trees beyond it, and so presently found myself some way on the other side of the ridge, and descending towards a streamlet that ran through a narrow valley. I paused and listened. The distance I had come, or the intervening masses of thicket, deadened any sound that might be coming from the enclosure. The air was still. Then with a rustle a rabbit emerged, and went scampering up the slope before me. I hesitated, and sat down in the edge of the shade.

Through the summer, autumn, with a hint of cool, more and more close from me. Early in the morning, lounging in front of the window, look out DR Max electronic English, the distance that piece of ink color of the sky; the wind, the most beautiful greetings to those who have in the past, fold in the emotional touch the horizon flat.

The early autumn the gentle breeze, should a few sound sad weak sigh, blowing broken hearted, included the quiet beauty of autumn lonely. Day, soundless and stirless, but empathy, thin cool one's mind. With the time being at a loss what to do, revealing that give chapter and verse for myself, really walk in the life of this tortuous trail will be sad, melancholy day walk into their own happiness. A stampede of hope sunshine, don't like the color, through the wind will not cry, falling Chunni, deserted, greet the dawn.

The heart, feel the autumn wind temperature, follow those lost in under the maple tree is the time of the footprint, read that can never forget is the youth you. Those who grow up, those wounds, those who hurt, those laughters and tears DR Max electronic English, with non-stop ring, the horse in my youth the hours before, stained all over my sorrow.

The noise without Ning Hugh, the calendar on the wall and doubled, live what, still the old appearance, groundless talk in mixing with the point of the passions. The people around for one group after another, bosom lover stay several; always with a blind courage, swim, stop and go, go again; those of the old memories is not far away, a new past began to slowly precipitation. A cool day, homely fare, the popularity of cold DR Max electronic English, from I have long, already with the years of dust from the in memory fade, perhaps some people will say I don't read the former friendship, cruel; some people may say that I am courageous, let go of discrete. It's like days, taste sometimes thick, sometimes thin; sometimes the tide, and be in smooth water; do a free holding flowers, want to open the season in which, efforts to absorb sunlight, live in hope, those who forgot should forget, give up the shouldn't insist, live our life clear day.

Life is like an examination paper, everywhere is doubtful, road is a problem, there is no uniform standard answer, no one is always the ever victorious army, can finals every time. Life, only hurt acme understanding is the years the deepest perception, only strong enough to carry all before one is the life of the most exquisite beauty.

Today, was my most memorable day. Because today is the Spring Festival, it is also the last day in the year,, can not I forget you cooling towel!

Morning, I still in a daze lying in my bed, my mother said to me: "you, come to help his mother ironed egg dumplings!" Listen to the mother's words, a "hastily" of a sudden turn up in bed, quickly wear good clothes washed, unable to hold oneself back and mother go to the hot egg dumplings. Because I was curious, usually eat my mother had finished, only know to eat, do not know how to do it!

Mother prepared the egg and meat stuffing Dr Max, I am responsible for helping my mother pick the meat stuffing, looked at the mother put the egg into the pot gently turn, a small round cake became, I quickly put the meat stuffing on the cake in the middle, mother use chopsticks to Egg cakes together, a boat like egg was very good a, really fragrant ah!

Hot finished egg dumplings, guests have arrived. Grandma and his wife cooked many dishes, the egg silk, cabbage, dumplings, cola, beef company formation in hong kong, steamed fish, tofu, and my favorite pork braised in brown sauce. Our whole family happy, happy to eat a sumptuous the dinner on New Year's Eve. I also use the cola to the grandpa and grandma's wine, I wish them good health, good luck in everything. They also wish me to learn and progress, one family said a lot of good wishes. After dinner, I also received many red envelopes, 50, 100, 200, and 800. To have received so many red envelopes, I do not mention how happy! I want to save up the money, buy my learning activities.

Night, I and my brother is the most happy moment, we put many kinds of fireworks. There are fish, put up a lot of rain drop from the clouds, like many a riot of colours. A star, a place, in the underground rotation, a red glow, like Na Zha's hot wheels in the rapid rotation. There is a like a wire, a place, like a piece of what did not land in bloom a beautiful flower.

After release, we went to sleep, because I want to get up early tomorrow......

Today is a memorable day!

Wandering in the empty dance, residual valve, in the rain and snow falling dust.

Wandering, in one way, in that struggle. The dust NuHart.

Flowers fall, heart domain in leaf cry, in that don't give up the pursuit of the wind.

The flowers, in Confidante no longer, in that memory does not regret the romantic.

Chopped cold rolling dust scraping the bone, the hand guard Yan mei,

Buckle a gap, flower heart, how NuHart?

Valve setting, leaf pieces, eye tears, hand tremor!

Mo Li Han, a few red? Take care! Few people know the flowers broken?

When will there be no more autumn moon and spring flowers for me who had so many memorable hours? Who is sad? Who is the sweet heart? She dance the ink sword, "people than the thin yellow", follow my memory of millennium, conduct Millennium cliff side, tentacle to touch you, wind rain flowers, ear near your indifference, 000 species had. You, Sherbet Shannon and charm, graceful ink, Millennium fall red sweet, still let me for you, to sing words and songs! Because of your cold and lonely overseas employment.

Rouchang inch cold lonely, the mood on the Arctic cold sea, solitary shadow thin, the sea, waves up how many tears boiling, listening to the corner, a Hong man man, cold beauty picturesque. Shake on the light rays, sleeves, graceful smoke cloud Rao, floating rhyme cold world. Look at a tree with the forest, go white butterfly, and the wind dancing and Rao, lovingly pathetic string. Smile in the Ning Yan, make me touched tears, at the edge of the sea, her beauty, her cold, has nothing to do with me NuHart.

Cold cold heart sings love songs, sounds goods Xi, with bitter taste, but sweet dough. To come back, such as sand without a master, slave of static wind, back, full of every pattern. I in the hot, with your cotton soft color, look for you to be exquisitely dainty and ravishingly beautiful, but hold hands, a bitter empty world. Cool moonlight the pale sand, flowers in where? But did not know the next step is, lingering Millennium desert rose, the tear falls million years of singing.

And spend the night marks, shattered acoustic sonar, Yi Li, delight, ancient. Thousands of busy and, how many flowers with moonlight, like fur coat, "gather your rosebuds while you may, not treatsblossomless spatial booklet." However, few people show must fold, and who look back? Yong Huai Mai flowers die, empty, cut in thin lips, Speechless degree all flower broken night! Positive thinking, oh heart chill frequency review, but in poetry, setting the scene only empty words, think of the sea.

The rain across this disgraceful between, all the way, with a floral pink, all the way to pick up, palm covered with many hundred years of bitter taste. Red tears, sad with tears flower, pistil, tears falling. If you love, no cream in your life, caiman, and if a reward, flower fly, patches of remnant, going to move about the country without definite employment! Across the old fence, wandering and smiled with tears and act toward. What are with now?

Blossoming flowers Yan, boast the world to poison poison orders, whose eyes? Night night wind, flowers fall red, as your mind full of all over the mountains and not fall red, you, have pity soft heart? The coldest wind down with tears, are you, let her swaying the poem off white, time flap blood osmosis from ancient to modern times, looking forward to, and off spring moon, in your indifference. I picked up the cold cream, about you, a residual, cold down the red.

Heart station, at a loss ", flowers of the debris covered every corner, eyes touched. Love, from the silly dim memories, at the beginning of a riot of colour in place, wandering, meditation. Is my silence, read the spring bloom, read the wind and rain in the sexy mature, pity the flap have the residual red. All, all, pain, happiness, I was flying in the paradise of Guangyang, let her grow the seeds of happiness, forever.