Australia Redux

Australia Redux

Australians take national pride in being perverse. Down under is a way of life that consciously translates into different, unexpected, and deliberately upside down. It’s as if Australia was born to look crooked at the world and then wink about it.

This particular point of view became very clear to me when a group of four Brisbaners plus one foreigner arranged to climb Mount Warning, the pastime for Western Australians seeking a challenge.

The one foreigner, an American, was the only one who took the climb seriously. He came equipped with hiking boots, back pack, rope, electrolyte drink, granola bars, and various first aid kits. The rest of the group threw in elastic bandages, a bottle of water, and linament and picked up a hamburger along the way. Conversation in the car was not about the climb, which only one of them had done before, but about who was going to be the most sore the next day.

The expedition was clearly going to be the daring leading the unprepared followed by the unfit.

The trail turned out to be difficult. There were loose rocks and parts were wet and slippery. Soon there were the start of blisters. The group stopped to let socks be changed and plasters applied. The mood was gregarious. The blisters were a badge of honour. If someone lagged behind, they were genially offered as an excuse. “Hold on there, Mate, don’t you know I have blisters?”

Soon other excuses joined the blisters. Sore muscles, pre-existing arthritic knees, banged toes, backs and hips all took their toll. It became competitive to see who was climbing with the greatest handicap.

At that point, three groups were formed. The daring, also the most fit, went on ahead. The unprepared walked stolidly on, gaining new respect for the mountain with every step. The unfit fell behind but promised to catch up at the final pitch to the top. There’s a chain
fixed there to assist with an almost vertical climb over boulders to the summit.

The first group went up the slippery chain, sending back down the message not to pull oneself up on the chain but to use it only for balance. “Christ,” said one of the unfit as he looked up, “my arms are the only things that don’t hurt.” He sat down and watched as the others got up it one by one. It took him several minutes to even begin.

“You don’t have to do it,” someone called down.

“Bloody hell I do,” he shot back. “I got this far.”

Everyone cheered as he laboriously got up the pitch, one small step at a time, and with only one skinned knee. They took pictures at the top of them all and declared victory.

The way down, though, turned out to be worse. Does one go down the chain frontwards or backwards? Toe nails began to hurt as they banged against the front of boots. Knees began to ache. Occasionally someone would slip and a stream of invective against the mountain and those who had planned the trip rang through the trees.

Then they finally piled into the car and did the only thing sensible. They headed to the nearest pub for a recovery beer. The daring were stiff when they got out and even admitted to having sore muscles. The unprepared were making promises about getting into better shape and doing it again. The unfit were counting the few places they didn’t ache. As for the foreigner, he stood by the side of the car not moving.

“What’s up with you, Mate?” he was asked.

“I’m trying to see if I can lift my leg high enough to get my foot on the curb,” he replied.

Cheers rang all round. National honour had been upheld. Mount Warning had been scaled. Over a couple of beers, the day was pronounced a great success. And the unfit demanded the greatest credit because they were—well—unfit.

How Australian can you get?