08 December 2006

My New Hobby

I decided it is time I got a new hobbit.

It is to be called photo-running.

Having laid the framework, I just need a little digital camera to get it happening properly.

The inspiration came from a run the other night. This time I eschewed the trails, the defined tracks and beaten paths. My goal was a hill I often looked upon with envy as I caught the bus to work.

The nature of the peak called me - the few tall trees left stark atop the maximum reach of a sweeping rise amidst a desolation of bruised valleys. This objective was surrounded by spastic patches of plantation pine in varying stages of the great movement of birth and death, the landscape scarred by fire and rutted by heavy machinery.

Dashing through the constructed parallels of established pine forests. Careening down rutted hills strewn with the debris of failed plantations, haphazard saplings, and rocks to find only the occasional kangaroo track and sometimes meet their creators too. Speed only preventing the fall. Then bloody minded continuing up steep slopes of dirt and rock decorated only by the tread of the life size Tonka toys built in the pursuit of dominion over earth.

As I am a fool for philosophy I contend that this experience says something broader about humanity and that perversity of human nature which so often elects the hard way. Of course, I thoroughly enjoyed myself. Oddly, it was most satisfying to rest just before reaching the peak, as this affords the best view of the way come, and in truth the summit reveals the ephemera of existence, for so much is revealed that was unimagined.

Once off the roads, I met no human soul but I surprised many a kangaroo. One emaciated and truly pitiful specimen performing each pained hop upon a broken dead leg, its fate being to follow its limb soon. Also there was one curious cow, crows, hares, grizzled sheep and two eagles - I assume - elegantly circling the drafts at the peak.

From there I chose another peak and as the crow flew, so the man tried to run, that is, in a straight line. True, some measure of trespass may have been involved and there is an art to overcoming fences that only practise will preach; yet it was not through a land of verdant plenty that I moved and the heat saw no worth in raising an eyebrow under the circumstances.

The kangaroo is such a curious creature. If they were not so timid they would escape notice most likely seeming to be baked of the very soil upon which they stand to me.

This second summit then called steep, steep, steep and my calves screamed for respite often, but arriving saw me clear to a familiar trail again which loped homeward in short order.

The new hobby involves taking a camera and photographing the sights to help me make account of these short journeys; maybe a mini-recorder too, or even a secretary to take dictation, for I find I know myself well under such circumstances and oft think of the type of fanciful words contained herein. Like, I guess this blog has always been about my photos and telling a story, but this is just another dimension. If you want to see the real deal then check this out.

The only disadvantage to such photographic documentation is that it may well prove the extent of my exaggeration.

In the oft misquoted words of Shakespeare, "Farting is such sweet sorrow."

See ya.

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