Christmas Day 2022.
No wind. Blue skies.
The best morning since I launched this summer’s round of Little Adventures.
A slow start as I watched the shadows disappear from the landscape.
A few rounds of coffee, observing the swallows on their circuits around the hut. And bumblebees with their eccentric flight paths.
Not a big day wandering down Seymour Stream with its nine crossings.
A New Zealand falcon circled the hut a few times, but the more manoeuvrable swallows harassed it away.
Last night I was so tired from lugging my pack over the hill that I went straight to sleep for the longest time horizontal that I remember.
My 27,000 steps yesterday turned out to be my 42nd best day out from around 1200 days I’ve been counting.
No Internet for at least the following week.
No hurry today.