Hiking the Larapinta Trail
The plucky twang scales down, down, down the familiar bass line. The rhythmic clash of the tambourine. Nancy Sinatra’s unmistakeable vocals. I’m awake before the first note; eyes on the canvas above my face.
A smile spreads over my face in immediate recognition. “You keep sayin’ you’ve got something for me …” I throw back my swag cover, shimmy out of my sleeping bag cocoon.
“Something you call love but confess …” I’m already half dressed — thermals, fleece, tights and socks. On goes the jacket, beanie, windbreaker pants. “You’ve been messin’ where you’re shouldn’t’ve been messin’ and now someone else is getting all your best …” I shove feet into my hiking boots, hook and tighten my laces, and grab my gaiters.
“These boots are made for walkin’ and that’s just what they’ll do; one of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you.”