FEAR

Fear has become somewhat of a foreign concept for me. I remember catching the train as a teenager alone and at night. There was a large element of don’t show fear as if you were facing a wild animal. Fortunately I was blessed to never really face any dicey situations and I guess I faked it til it didn’t worry me anymore.

Moving on to my 20’s I found faith in Jesus and felt invincible. I didn’t start getting in street fights or walking the streets of Northbridge after midnight but I did take on big waves without fear or worry. Even paddling out at big Sunset before first light.

Fast forward a year or so and with my impending marriage I got the jitters. Not what commitment phobes would expect, but on a pre-marriage surfing trip I recall sitting in a stormy ocean at least half the size of the biggest waves I’d surfed and not wanting to die.

In recent years I’ve developed a habit of running in the early hours of the morning. Sometimes in the bush alone and  sometimes through the streets of Rockingham. I avoid the nightclubs but I feel like I’m missing something. I try to conjure up some potential threat but, I can’t really feel the fear. Even my healthy fear of snakes is fading.

However thankfully my recent trip helped me feel some of that raw emotion. In NZ I was staying at Arthur’s Pass and despite the rain of the previous day and the promise of more to come when I woke it was fine. Because of the rain (and central heating ) it actually felt quite warm. So for my trip up Avalanche Peak (750-1830m) I decided shorts and no gloves would be appropriate.

Going hard up the super-steep climb to the treeline I was plenty warm. When I emerged above the trees I was amazed to see snow falling for the first time. Unfortunately the trail wasn’t steep or dry enough to generate any serious body heat but I continued up never-the-less walking. As I walked and prayed about whether this was a good idea I felt compelled to carry on to the hopefully runnable descent of Scott’s Track.

Near the top I was hit by a blast of a cold wind and much heavier snow. The storm was back.  Time to go!! Definitely a taste of fear there. As I descended I got colder and thought “not taking  my gloves was a silly mistake”. With snow covering rocks it was unrunnable, but I still had a full proof plan, if I got too cold I could turn and head uphill again.

Nearing the bottom I started to think that I was lucky that the rocks weren’t slippery covered in snow. WHACK! Down I went before I knew what was happening. Landing hard on my hand I was glad I hadn’t done any serious damage as hands were definitely an advantage for the descent below the treeline.

I ran down the crazy descent carefully mainly because I hadn’t yet really run on this “run”. It was as much jumping down large steps as running but it was fun and I was safe. I was content to sit the wet day out inside after my early morning adventure feeling quite drained.

Later on the way home I was out running in bush in Queensland. Basically my bread and butter, Australian bush in good weather. However a few facets added to the mental stimulation of the run later on. In recent days I had seen an active and fairly aggressive snake and also a dingo. Talking to my sister she eased my worries about snakes but I was informed the real worry rather than dingoes was the wild dogs who had killed a domestic dog on their very street. I only took one 540ml water bottle and 1 gel for emergencies for a planned 3 hour loop. All was going well other than a cold first half hour until I came to a barbed fence around an hour in. I crawled under and was feeling the usual alertness of running somewhere I wasn’t really supposed to be.

Under the fence I found myself in a recently logged area and  headed in the direction in which I’d come. Unfortunately this proved a dead-end and as I returned to the logged area the obvious solution was heading up one of the super steep logging roads. Finally arriving at the top about 1.50 into my run I was confronted with another dead-end and bush. Knowing where I wanted to be was through the bush and over the mountain I decided I wasn’t going down and up another track and headed into the bush. Wearing my best running clothes I started dragging myself through the rainforest. Fortunately the area had been grazed by cattle so I wasn’t too worried about snakes but I knew if I hurt myself no person was going to find me. In much the same way as my full-proof plan of walking uphill comforted me I was confident any trained dog would find me given half a chance.

However as my walk headed beyond 30minutes I’d had enough. I wanted a pity party. I’d had enough of descending through thicker and steeper forest. I wanted a road. Then I realized there was no point getting upset I just needed to continue. Shorty after I came to a 5metre cliff leading to the road I wanted to be on. Slightly recklessly I down climbed it and was happy to know vaguely where I was. With little water and just the 1 gel for my now 4 hour mission I accepted my lot and headed home.

 Having been lost and short of water I didn’t worry too much about wild dogs but that night as I left our caravan for a midnight leak I heard something rush down the hill towards me. I stopped midstream and stepped back towards the caravan door. There was nothing.