I’m sorry for what I said when I was hangry

Posted on by Laura Hoffman

hangry (ˈhæŋɡrɪ): 

adjective

-grier, -griest

  1. (humorous) irritable as a result of feeling hungry

It’s a proven scientific fact that hungry people are angrier people. A 21 day study at Ohio State University attempted to find a link between glucose levels and aggressive impulses and behaviours, and found that people with lower glucose levels had higher aggression levels. Hangry made it into the Urban Dictionary way back in 2005 and more recently, Snickers turned hangry into a successful advertising campaign by coining the slogan “You’re not you when you’re hungry”.

I feel I should have starred in one of those Snickers commercials: if hangry had a mascot, surely it would be me. You know how some people get to 3pm in the afternoon and claim that they “forgot” to eat lunch? Or even breakfast AND lunch? That person is never me. My day is constructed around regular eating breaks; I don’t think I’ve lasted more than two hours without having to stuff something in my face. Of course, there are odd occasions when I don’t eat so regularly. For example, I’m a terribly hangry tourist. I am too easily distracted by the romance of getting lost in foreign streets, exploring colourful markets and photographing beautiful buildings and exotic scenes. Suddenly, five hours have passed, I’ve wandered 11 kilometres and I MUST EAT. RIGHT NOW. BEFORE I STAB SOMEONE. IN THE FACE.  Unsurprisingly, I’ve chucked more than a few hangry tantrums on the hiking trail as well.

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When mountains crumble: hiking in ever-changing landscapes

Posted on by Laura Hoffman

Natural disasters are an inescapable fact of the natural world. Hurricanes, hail storms, bushfires, floods, landslides, avalanches and earthquakes are all unstoppable forces, that often wreak death and destruction on an immeasurable scale. And some of these natural disasters are an inherent risk to hikers, particularly where those unstoppable forces are intimately linked with the very landscape hikers seek to visit.

You are likely aware of a very recent and heartbreaking example of this. For millennia, the India continental plate has been converging with the Eurasia continental plate, at a rate of 45 millimetres a year towards the north-northeast. But on the 25th April 2015, at the interface between the subducting India plate and the overriding Eurasia plate, a sudden slip caused a 7.8 magnitude earthquake. The epicentre was just 80 kilometres to the north-west of the Nepalese capital of Kathmandu. Almost two weeks later, it has been estimated that more than 7,500 people have lost their lives and over 14,000 people have been injured.

But it is this very collision of continental plates that resulted in the formation of the Himalayas, the mountain range that falls predominantly within India, Nepal and Bhutan. The Himalayas are home to nine of the ten highest mountains in the world, including Mount Everest, and these mountains have attracted tens of thousands of hikers and mountaineers for decades. And on the 25th April, at least 18 of those adventurers were killed in an avalanche at Everest Base Camp that was triggered by the earthquake. Top tour companies have now cancelled this year’s climbing season at Mount Everest.

No one has the power to eliminate the risk of such disasters befalling them. While (thankfully) I have never come close to experiencing such a frightening event as an earthquake, or the broad-scale devastation that follows,  I have witnessed firsthand, on a much smaller scale,  the power that mountains can unleash on the landscape around them.

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And so the alpine adventure begins

Posted on by Laura Hoffman

The mountains are calling and I must go. – John Muir, Naturalist

At the dawn of every new year, without fail, I announce at least a dozen new year resolutions that I am sure will make me a better, happier and healthier person. And by the end of the first week of January, I am usually well on my way to failing  most of them (dismally).

But 2015 brings a bigger resolution than most; 2015 is the year I choose to stop talking and start doing. And one thing I’ve been talking about for a long time is a trip involving some big hikes in some even bigger mountains. So, come June, I’ll heading to the Alps for six weeks, the highest and most extensive mountain range in Europe. The Alps stretch from Austria and Slovenia in the east, though Switzerland, Liechtenstein, Germany and Italy, to France in the west. Some of the world’s most alluring mountain peaks are found there: the Matterhorn, Mont Blanc, Eiger and Jungfrau, just to name a few.

I won’t be going alone; it’s too good an adventure to not share it. Cue Elise, a best friend and esteemed hiker.  Between us, we have racked up a decent list of trails we’ve hiked in Australia, New Zealand and a smattering of other counties, and together in 2014, we completed the 100 kilometre Sydney Oxfam Trailwalker in 36 hours. But we want to take our hiking to new heights (pun intended) so come June, we’ll be setting off for some real mountains. Read More

Feeling walled in: a weekend escape to Kanangra Walls

Posted on by Laura Hoffman

I love Sydney, don’t get me wrong. Living in the inner-city, I’m spoilt for choice when it comes to cafes, restaurants, cinemas, galleries, live music, markets and a ridiculous variety of self-enrichment offerings; I’ve tried terrarium-making, bollywood dancing, ukulele-learning and macaron-baking (although I’m not sure if any of this “enrichment” has paid off- I still can’t play the ukulele. And all my terrariums have perished).

But when the traffic is jammed and drivers are too impatient, when my fellow commuters are too inconsiderate, when the planes, trains and buses are too loud, and the dawdling, smart phone tapping pedestrians are too oblivious, I am grateful that Sydney is surrounded by national parks, that offer an escape from this incessant and sometimes claustrophobic grind.

Kanangra-Boyd National Park is one of those national parks, and on this particular October weekend, we chose to head to Boyd River campground, located 200km west of Sydney. The plan was to use the campground as a base and set off on a few short walks over the course of the weekend, including a walk along Kanangra Walls, which had been on my to-do list for years.

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On the roof of Mt Rufus

Posted on by Laura Hoffman

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April 2009: I battle the freezing gale-force wind to add to the enormous cairn at the summit of Mt Rufus in the Franklin-Gordon Wild Rivers National Park. At 1461 metres above sea level, the summit offers panoramic views of the surrounding Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area, including Frenchmans Cap, Mt Gell, Lake St Clair, Mt Olympus and King William Ranges.

Popularity has its price: paying for the privilege of hiking a famous trail

Posted on by Laura Hoffman

What makes for a popular hiking trail? Unquestionably, the most popular trails showcase a region’s most spectacular natural values; snow-capped mountain peaks, sparkling blue lakes, deep valleys of green or rivers of fast-flowing whitewater.  Or perhaps all of the above. Popular trails are typically never far from a town or city offering good accommodation and transport connections; they need to be accessible to the large number of domestic and international hikers that visit them. They usually offer comfortable amenities; either spacious, serviced huts or well-maintained camping areas. The trail itself may include significant infrastructure; long sections of boardwalk that are raised above fragile environments, bridges that cross dangerous rivers or wire rope that offer security and support on a steep climb. Many of the most popular trails across the globe possess all these qualities, and more.

But if you want to hike some of these most popular trails, you might just find you’ll have to pay for the luxury to do it, and even more so in peak season. Growing numbers of visitors exert increasing pressure on the very environment that hikers have come to admire. Experienced hikers generally abide by the principles of Leave No Trace. But seemingly minor actions of one hiker, such as trampling vegetation to avoid a muddy section of the trail, washing in a river with detergent, collecting firewood or the inappropriate disposal of human waste, quickly become significant impacts on the environment when multiplied by hundreds or thousands of hikers. The solution of many government agencies to protect popular trails, and their surrounding environments, is to impose a limit on the number of hikers.

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Raindrops keep falling on my head: notes on hiking in the rain

Posted on by Laura Hoffman

As the heavens open here in Sydney, and the rain buckets down (74 mm since 9am and counting), I think back to our final day of the Rees-Dart Track in January 2014, in which we walked 16 kilometres from Daleys Flat Hut to Chinamans car park. And the entirety of this day was spent walking, or rather, sloshing, through torrential rain. All six, very slow and very soggy hours of it.

Walking in the rain is part and parcel of hiking in New Zealand; it’s telling that New Zealand is also known as “Land of the long White Cloud“. It’s astounding, but Milford Sound on the South Island receives an annual rainfall of 6.8 metres. You read that correctly: METRES. So unsurprisingly, on every single one of my kiwi hikes I’ve had to endure at least one day of solid rain.

Within hours, once-spongy paths that wind through thick forest soon resemble a quagmire that would rival any section of the notoriously boggy Kokoda Trail in Papua New Guinea. Exposed rocky tracks traversing steep slopes quickly become watercourses in their own right. Eventually, waterproof gear starts to founder and fail, and the dampness seeps in. By the end of the day, you’re probably as wet inside your raincoat as you are outside of it. I feel my extensive experience in walking in the rain gives me the authority to break down rain-walking into four distinct (and largely unenjoyable) phases; see how many you can identify with.

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Minimal time, maximum reward: Sydney’s best microadventures

Posted on by Laura Hoffman

Never mind getting overwhelmed by planning an ambitious weekend escape. Most of us have nine-to-five obligations Monday through Friday, but they’re sandwiched by five-to-nine blocks that we tend to neglect

This quote, from a recent article in Outside Magazine, describes Alastair Humphrey’s no-excuse approach to embarking on a microadventure, which he defines as an adventure that is “close to home, cheap, simple, short and yet very effective”. Named in 2012 as a National Geographic Adventurer of the Year, for his pioneering work on this concept of microadventures, Alastair encourages people to set aside the mundane constraints of every day life to seek the spirit, challenge and reward of big adventures, on a small (and therefore achievable) scale. He claims this is as simple as going somewhere you have never been before to “climb a hill, jump in a river, sleep under the stars”.

I myself am one of those with “nine-to-five obligations”. And I know how easy it is to fill the hours outside of work hours with a somewhat monotonous routine of gym sessions, social engagements and household chores. But, inspired by Alastair, below are my top suggestions for microadventures in Sydney. I’m deviating a little from hiking here, and you’ll notice a common theme; they nearly all involve the water, or at the very least, water views. Between the dazzling harbour and the breathtaking coastline, it’s hard to go past microadventures that capitalise on the beauty of Sydney’s waterways. As Alastair says: “adventure is everywhere, every day and it is up to us to seek it out.”

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