In 2010, Dean and I had been bushwalking by ourselves for over two years and thought we could improve our knowledge of this activity we enjoyed so much by joining a bushwalking club.
I considered this would be the first and last bushwalk I would undertake with a group of walkers.
Their approach, or more accurately, their attitude, was not for me. I only hoped I would still want to go bushwalking with my husband, but firstly, I had to get out of the mess I was in.
I was cut off from the rest of the group and I was starting to get angry.
How dare they be so selfish, so self-centred and totally inconsiderate me? Someone who clearly couldn’t walk at the Olympic Race Walking pace they were setting.
It’s not that I couldn’t walk, I was just a slow walker.
I just wanted someone to comfort me. I wanted to get out of the rainforest and back to the car. I wanted my husband to come walking towards me, wrap me in a warm embrace, and rescue me like a knight of old.
But I realised none of that was going to happen.
I cannot believe they went ahead without me. I know the Golden Rule of Bushwalking:
“The group can only go as fast as the slowest walker.”
I was the slowest walker, and they’d left me behind.