Greg and Karel

It’s all very well logging fluffy entries about birds and waterfalls, but it’s impossible for these to paper over the fact that its been a terrible couple of weeks. 

I wasn’t going to post anything but I simply can’t get these guys out of my thoughts.  Greg hit his head very heavily in a bicycle crash two weekends ago on a ride some of us were part of in Sydney, and is still in ICU struggling to awaken from a coma.  Just days after this happened I got word that my Czech mate Karel got buried in an avalanche whilst ski-touring in Austria… last December…and is still in a medically-induced coma.  As well as head trauma, Karel had a host of other medical complications to overcome.  Both freak accidents, both quite unbelievable and hard to stomach in their own right. 

I had no idea life could be so fragile or cruel.  Both guys in their prime.  Both doing something they were passionate about, and yet at what cost?  Both with family and friends worried sick. 

To top it off there were two car-related cyclist fatalities on Sydney roads this past weekend (Hoggy and I saw the aftermath of one of them).  Although I still believe riding in Sydney is considerably safer than it was 10 or 20 years ago, there is obviously vast room for improvement given the rather unfortunate car culture that prevails.

Both Greg and Karel are at least now showing signs of waking up, which is encouraging, although progress with brain injuries is agonizingly slow, and it may be some time before the true extent of damage and degree of likely recovery is known.  I’m not a religious man, but all my positive thoughts are with them.

Makes me wonder what it’s all about, the decisions we make, risk vs reward.  What it means to live life and follow your passion.  In my gut I still believe that life is better embraced than suppressed (ie, get out and do what you enjoy), but perhaps a little more introspection/caution/pause, whatever you want to call it, wouldn’t go astray. 

Like I need say it, and far from me to preach, but please everyone be careful out there.

Five old farts do Butterbox

Sat 9th Feb, Butterbox, Mt Hay, Blueies
Party of five:  Tony, Damo, Ben, Mikey and moi.
Seven hrs car-to-car, but days for soreness to subside from legs.

Mad dogs and (mostly) Englishmen

A few weeks ago now, but seeing what the cyclone washed in at a Maroubra sea-watch one morning before work, which in my case even yielded a bona fide new tick in the form of sooty tern.  Yep, the other three hail from Old Blighty, which perhaps explains the attraction (man and stormy weather, that is).  There was even fist pumping at the sight of the odd black noddy, which i failed to pick up on of course (my sea-bird nous is rubbish), but as i'd seen thousands of these on Heron Isl it was no great loss.