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RED TENT BLUE BUCKET

I have sent this blog in various forms and they have all failed. Having no reception for days has been great. Our days are so full that writing this blog is a pure indulgence on some levels. I feel dedicated to observing the feminine side of this journey and the blogs that I lost were about the uranium stuff. Maybe that just isn't meant to be my focus.
Red tent; in my red dust green tent I had a day off from the walk and just relaxed.  I surrendered to my period and mused about how essential it is for women to have several days of each month for our mental and physical health. We so often work around the clock or past our daily capacity; as is the nature of mothering.  So stopping for a day or so each month with no household jobs, meals or child care would be so nurturing for many of us.
Blue bucket; see photo. On our last day off we stayed at an oasis and it was sensational. While the children played in the water we women lit a fire and heated water for washing clothes. It truly was a wonderful thing an each woman commented on how right it felt to be together like that doing our washing.  The washing area has always been a central point for women and children; an inportant hub of any community.  Must go, no more power and this has to be sent now or the phone puts it in the outbox where it is unretreavable. Goodnight.
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PACKING UP OUR STUFF

Day after day it is packing up camp, tents, sleeping bags, clothes, books for a bit of schooling, plates and cutlery and life's general stuff.  Having two disasters in a row that blew it all apart or saturated it all; first a mini cyclone, then a flood at three am.; I was feeling the weight of our belongings like a yoke around my neck. So today I had to stay at camp simply because all our stuff got wet in the early hours. Now a big storm is mounting at sunset and I now find ourselves  getting prepared for another blast.
NEXT MORNING
We all squeezed into our little two man tent and slept wonderful deep sleeps.
Yesterday I was on camp set up. The ground was rock hard and only two of us were up for work. I worked like a convict, digging the fire pit and toilet pit in such compacted ground. We stayed at a large cleared ground most likely a truckies spot. Anyway Evita has hurt her foot and I had promised to give her time yesterday but the set up was essential. I massaged her foot and gave her a precious bath but there is a yearning and I have just decided to completely have the day off. The boys can walk,  Chris can come back with the support van when he is ready. Shanti can stay with Eve and I. I will swap the shovel for some lotions and potions!
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Half way to eternity

A red monstrous cloud appeared in the west. It was a terrifying sight, promising to bring chaos and change. We were at Centenial park, just beginning our public barbecue when we saw it. I hastily gathered my children and thanked God we had the preacher with us because he had his van; this was not going to be walking weather.
It hit within minutes. Red dust so thick that we could hardly see or breath. Winds of 100kilometres an hour raced around, taking whatever was in their path. As our party of thirty or so peOople were driven, crammed together, back to our camp we all watched in a shared fascination at the power of the wind as we passed roofs blowing off buildings and whole streets of trees down.
I was expecting that all my belongings in our flimsy tents, would be no more. I did not care for I was filled with love and gratitude for my children and the protection we had been given.
When we got back it was heroes we met at the camp who had somehow moved forty people's tents, swags and washing inside the cultural centre where we were staying. This centre in Kalgoorlie, our half way mark, is an old converted house. This amount of tents, mostly still opened was quite a sight. All our belongings had been picked up, stirred and thrown together. We were all contained in this house, forty people, tents and stuff and a cylconic storm outside whose rain arrived after we got safely inside. Finding places to sleep was not easy but I secured a little corner for us. I slept in the only place left which as I finally went to bed after all the sorting, discovered that it was a walking machine I was sleeping on. The irony of that was too much and I crashed onto sleep laughing.
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THE MAGIC OF WALKING

The magic of walking has awakened some deep part of my humanity. I feel connected to people throughout history who have put one foot in front of the other and travelled miles and miles. Nomads and gypsies, beduins and shepherds, the dispossessed and the refugees are among the multitude of reasons for walking along way.  Nicole who is here with her young family, walks with her nine month old tied to her, and today commented how wonderful the act of just walking is and how much her baby loves the rhythm of it. "Normal life has so much stopping and starting, feels so scattered compared to this lovely rhythm. " 

• We wake early in the cold hour when the first birds have heralded the morning and we pack up our camps then make our way to the fire place for porridge and tea.  After a brief circle, we hit the road and walk seven kilometres before stopping for a short break. Then another seven kilometres,  another morning tea and then five kilometres to lunch.  Then we sprawl under bushes in whatever shade we can find and eat some lunch. Often we have ten more kilometres to walk to camp, which we break up with a rest in the middle. That is a basic rhythm that carries us between twenty five and thirty kilometres.

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EAGLE ON BORDER PATROL

Suddenly we were at the end of the Eagle dreaming country,we had walked to the limit of the elder' s country. There, between the countries, Lachlan had spotted an eagle, resting on the ground just a few short feet from us!
We felt it was a sign, a strong one, to stop and give thanks, take stock of where we had been and where we were going.  But the group had gone on ahead and we were being told that we all had to walk quickly across the causeway as someone ahead with an orange flag was going to stop traffic for us. Gauging the situation with my truck driver's eye I quickly yelled out "there is no way we are going to do that" and single file with no children would be the only safe way. We went under the causeway, through exquisite flowers and expansive views. I knew there and then that the land had gifted me fwith a sign, a warning and now blessings of the flowers. 
This was the first day without our guide and there seemed to be a straining for leadership with ego entangled and a slip stream of panic from suddenly having such massive trucks hurtling past us.
'God grant me the courage to change the things I can change,
the serenity to accept the things I cannot change
and the wisdom to know the difference.'
It has taken me two blogs to partly capture this lesson which only took a moment to happen but the lesson under pins our modern ego and the drive that takes us as individuals away from our collective intelligence.
It also holds hands with our limited understanding of time, place and space which are governed within the confines of measurement. "How far are we walking today?" 25kms or 30kms, with a headwind for the former and a tail wind for the latter, which is further?  "How long will it take to get there?" A wonderful communion with nature while we walk will make short time out of any stretch. Signs in nature are gifts and deviations of the mind at wonder are communion with spirit. Getting to the desired outcome does not necessarily achieve the aim if the intent is peace then the unfolding moments already contain that.
As mother of four children out here, I must check every thought and nip my ego in the bud so that spirit can safeguard us with strength that far outweighs our precarious position.

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