Something odd happened when I turned 50. I lost my brain, I lost my confidence, I lost my strength. Mostly I lost sleep. It coincided with the time I lost my period. And it meant that I lost just about everything I thought I was.
I was in menopause. No blood. Except for the unaccountable lust to rip the head off anyone who dared to ask me to do one more thing.
Instead of being a confident go-getter, a friend who could whip up a party for ten and a manager who could solve problems, I turned into a simpering fool. I was needy, ranty, reedy, teary, and I was fundamentally so, so tired. I didn’t like me. And I suspect there were a few others in the queue behind me.
So, I got help. I tried on medical practitioners in the same manner my younger self tried on swimsuits; discarding those that didn’t fit and cherishing the one that made me feel good; kind of like a cool balm on a hot Cairns night.
I told my doctor I wanted to outrun what was happening. And she said, do it. But the new pain from plantar fasciitis in my feet (the two fleshy planks that I had never paid attention to) stopped me in my tracks. Literally. So, I was left to walk. At first it was day hikes through Brisbane’s backyard, then I signed up for overnight trips into nature, always driven by a single thought: drain the swamp in my brain. (Okay; two thoughts ... and avoid any leeches).
I started like a beast, lugging everything I needed for five days across the 88km Cooloola Great Walk on Queensland’s Sunshine Coast and eating reconstituted mashed potato around a quickly pitched tent. Then I graduated to Machu Pichu for a trek that came with a sherpa and support horse. In Austria I planned a five-day hike through the Wachau Valley forwarding luggage to the next destination as a bit of a reward. In Japan I did the same, but followed a 1200-year-old pilgrim trail through a pretty forest trail.
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Most recently I completed the Tas Walking Co's Three Capes Signature Walk in Tasmania. And it was here that I found the perfect antidote for the times.
Here was a walk that gave me everything my body craved: spectacular tracts of deep wilderness, the warmth of delicious meals crafted by lodge hosts who could out-master any TV chef, and the safety of being with knowledgeable guides who had storied learnings for every question I pitched over the 50km trek.
Mostly, the walk gave me time. No thinking. No meal planning. No GPS watching. No mental lifting. Just four days to roam. And feel free.
What it also gave me was a cohort of like-minded travellers. Other women (some with their husbands and some with friends) who were skiving off normal life to recalibrate in nature. Discussions ranged from wildlife spotting to the next milestone holiday, and of course, how to navigate the mid-life chaos. It was full of laughter, learnings, local wine, and long starry nights with little to do except sleep.
Those four days felt like ten. They became my new ideal and the best way to pause for the ‘pause.
