expectations

If you have spent any time at all on my blog I don't have to tell you that I love bushwalking. There are few things that I love more than hitting the trail and bagging a peak. When we arrived in Australia I knew my days of peak bagging would be limited, but when I began to prepare for our trip to Tasmania and began to hear comparisons to the European Alps I couldn't help but cross my fingers. Unfortunately, the 1545 meter Cradle Mountain didn't quite live up to my expectation of towering snow covered peaks. Last Christmas as we prepared to head to the Australian Alps I kept my visions of the Italian Dolomites at bay, but promises of alpine environments and high mountains lead to unavoidable disappointment--I found it hard to believe that we were in a ski area.
So back in June as we prepared for our trip to the tropics I couldn't help but feel that the tropic were the tropics--right. Visions of tramping through the thick jungles of Costa Rica filled my mind, but what a encountered was a whole lot like the other treks I've done across Australia--just a lot wetter.
Now I don't want you to think that this post is a whinge. Perhaps many of our trips have not lived up to my preconceived expectations, but that doesn't mean I haven't enjoyed myself. Sure I've seen more than my share of red sand, granite rocks and eucalyptus trees, but I have learned to look at the dirt, rock and trees in a different way.