Uphills

Uphills and I have a love-hate relationship. Even when I was younger and fitter, with knees less shonky than they are now, I always found uphills challenging. It doesn’t take much of a slope to get my heart pounding, and my face red and sweaty; and I’ve always said I prefer my uphills in the opposite direction. I’ve now cultivated a greater interest in things—ANY things—that give me a chance to catch my breath along the way!

(Mind you, some of my Scouts must dislike uphills even more than I do: they claim I owe them several thousand dollars accumulated at $1000 for each and every teensy little hummock we encountered on a track near Ballarat that I said was downhill (I’m sure I only said it was “mostly” downhill!).)

Of course, uphills DO have their “up” side. Without uphills there are no magnificent views nor waterfalls (among my favourite things). They often involve some goal whose attainment makes the down sides worthwhile.

Thus it was that today I made my way up a rather steep hill (rise = 200m, run( well, walk!) = 1.6km), not far from my parents’ place. Yes, I was in search of a cache, but it was also a search that promised a view (my kind of cache!). Dad had warned me about the steepness, and my exertions as I made my way upwards certainly reminded me that it would be good if I exercised a little more extensively.

It was all worth it, though. The view from just below the top of the range, above the mudstone cliffs, was spectacular: Mt Wellington in all its glory (most of the snow melted again by now!), and bits of the Derwent River. There’s a panorama photo available here, plus a couple of other shots I took.

Oh, and it was a good cache too.