On the way back from Mudderella, it dawned on me, that thanks to Mr Smarts I have actually been in training for events such as this for some time now. Take for example, the coastal walk we did at the start of the year. I have to admit, that I did know it was going to be a 45 degree day but my plan was, that we start at 6am to be finished by 8am. I still have yet to learn, that getting four other people rounded up and out of the house does, in fact, take an enormous amount of effort, nagging and carrying on, no matter how old they are.
So instead of a 6am start, we set off at 9am and a walk that should have taken two hours to complete, took us a mere four and a half hours. Please do not gloss over the four and a half hours. I want you all to repeat out loud, “Not two hours but four and a half hours” with as much sarcasm as you can muster. A nice touch would be placing your hands on your hips. Ignore the people watching you, they will understand. Thank you, now we can continue.
I had already done this particular walk twice before and I knew exactly where it led, but Mr Smarts, who can never do the norm, regardless of the consequences announced he had found a short cut. With grave concern, the kids and I, plus Miss Molly, our beloved kelpie left the track and followed him.
Naturally, we found ourselves facing death, as we jumped fearfully from one cliff to the other with a raging torrent of water crashing and bashing fiercely beneath us. Then again as we scaled a cliff face without ropes and harness. I was scared out of my wits and wanted to kill Mr Smarts right then and there. The kids learnt a whole new vocabulary and actually asked if Mr Smarts and I were getting a divorce? At the time we most certainly were.
We made it back to dry land and set off again. Twenty minutes later we came to an abrupt stop as enormous boulders blocked our path. We were deaf to Mr Smarts insisting we should at least have a go at climbing over them. Mr Smarts motto is, never give up and can’t is not a word!
Instead, the kids and I chose the safest way, which was climbing straight up a hill. Up and up we climbed, through the spindly, spikey plants which pricked and made us bleed with every step. A thousand snakes were just waiting to bury their poisonous fangs into our legs. What would have happened if we had been bitten? Where could a helicopter possibly land? Nowhere! We would have to be winched out and that to me is far more terrifying than being bitten by a snake.
Cross and cranky, we eventually made it back to the original track where the blistering sun beat down on us ferociously. The only shade we could find was under small, prickly bushes but we didn’t care, we just needed to be out of the sun. Mr Smarts didn’t dare come near us and even Miss Molly ignored him. I wish I had taken a photo.
With the two hour mark long gone, our water almost finished and the end nowhere in sight there was no option but to go forward. On and on we stumbled, hiding under one bush to the next. Damn the snakes, they could have had us for dinner for all we cared. We were delirious with exhaustion.
At last our prayers were answered and the track came to an end. We burst through the trees like crazed animals, startling the happy beach goers who watched in dismay as we collapsed under a tree, making no sense as we moaned and groaned with relief.
So Mudderella, compared to that, was loads of fun. We did not die in a mud slide, as was suggested by one of our team. We were like a herd of rhinos, lolling in the mud. We did manage to have a little tipple, thanks to the wine tasting before the event. Best of all, we all finished happy and proud.
Black nail polish I love you.
Any other Mud Sisters out there? I would love to hear your story.