I look back, swipe my face of flies, and see the city skyline rising up. Having just clambered up the dirt road, I take a breather. The red dirt winds down and seemingly melds in with the grey city outline. A reminder that I am still very close to the city even though I am surrounded by gums, tweeting birds and the invigorating feel of being in the bush.
We are completely alone on the track, taking me on a trip down memory lane to hiking the Overland Track earlier this year. Towering trees, a little creek trickling with water, sunlight peeking through the still wet green leaves and a muddy track going down, down, down. I relax and can feel the stress of daily life leave with every step. Being in the bush does that to me. I lose track of time, we all do. We walk for an hour or two before heading back up the hill on the old highway, back to the car. The road is closed to cars but is popular with cyclists. I stop mid-step a couple of times, not quite getting used to walking in the middle of a road.
Drop the kids off at Granny's, grab a coffee and hike the morning away at Mount Lofty. I could do this more often. In summer though, I might bring my fly net.