Fomes hemitephrus specimens were in abundance in the lush forest.īut, returning to my theme that I considered PB to be beyond me: between the start line and the goal lay a lagoon: New River Lagoon, with waters deep and cold. I missed out on having family with me at Christmas, but gained a fabulous experience of a different kind. However, the end result in this case is positive. The freedoms of less educated and more selfish members of that state brought about my captivity. I was unexpectedly free, having only very recently cancelled arrangements to go to NSW to celebrate the season with my Fairfax relatives, which I had reluctantly done because of the alarming rate at which Covid was spreading up there. We met up early on 27th for an assault on our old nemesis. He phoned just before Christmas, telling me there was a weather window of opportunity to climb PB from below if I began my way south on Boxing day. Can you spot the Aurantiporus pulcherrimus?īut meanwhile, my friend Andrew is more persistent than I am, for which I am grateful. If they don’t give me respect as a sportswoman, a complete set of Abels never will. I have amassed many athletic prizes and achievements.

If I am not enough of a person or a bushwalker without a complete set, I will not be a better one of either (person or bushwoman) with one. Leisel Jones said about her swimming gold medals: “If you are not enough without a gold medal, you will never be enough with one.” I like those words, and I feel that way about Abels. When your soul mate dies, it helps you see things in broader perspective, and to realise the importance of staying alive and being with the people you love. There is a lot more to life than completing lists. I thought that meant I would never get PB, and would never get all the Abels.

Meanwhile, we had found the endless kilometres of thigh-deep mud, of resisting, prickly scoparia and the time-wasting, demoralising false leads to all be less than enjoyable to the extent that we declared in agreement we never wanted to return. Then, my Bush Buddy friend Andrew and I had tried together just a few weeks ago, and were turned back on summit day by rain. I had tried a solo venture last year, only to break my wrist and have to retreat after the first day. I had already been blown off the Southern Ranges by gales and blizzards seemingly countless times before. I had decided Precipitous Bluff (PB to its bushwalking friends) was beyond my capabilities.

Emma st clair the bluff