to stand the bike I could sense a snide comment forming in my head only to be supressed when I removed my helmet and looked at the view that spread to the horizon . We were still in some sort of semiurban landscape ; a communication tower buzzed the air with charged atmospheric particles . The hum was strangely soothing , the landscape a carpet of shades of green and brown , farm fields , patches of bush land , and the occasional urban block .
This was Mount Alexander , close to the city of Bendigo . A small camp area was to the northern end so we decided that would be our first stop . A group of men in four-wheel drives , a bus converted to some sort of home and a young couple who seemed to be living full time from the back of their car . It was an ideal location and although the weather threatened rain and high winds we sat around our small fire cooking dinner as a pair of cockatoos played house in a hollowed-out eucalypt .
A nip of port , and a hearty meal of slow cooked steak by On Track Meals seemed like the perfect way to end a day . A map came out and we plotted where we were and the general direction to start tomorrow . Then came ‘ lost ’.
“ We weren ’ t lost today ,” I was assured . “ I was once lost in the bush … “
I heard this story uncountable times before . I grinned as the story continued , I had no choice , I had to hear how my partner had been in Scouts , he and another 14-year-old had become lost after having started a two-day hike through dense bush . Seven hours of walking aimlessly through bushland that hid many 19th century mineshafts . They had found a fence and followed it , this led to a track , which led to a road and eventually a campsite .
“ See , if you are near manmade structures you are never lost ”, the story tapered off , as he placed
TRAVERSE 155