March 4th, 2009 07:01am
Paula
I have put off writing this for weeks. I just couldn’t face it, but it has to be done sooner or later.
My Australian walk isn’t happening. In short, my second book is coming out in October this year (which is really great news, and I am very happy about) but which also means I have a lot of editing to do, not to mention publicity stuff when it actually comes out. I was getting increasingly stressed about how to combine the two, as I had hoped to have the book out slightly earlier which meant I would have had it all done before I left.
But sometimes things are not to be. I have absolutely wonderful publishers who are incredibly supportive of me and what I do, and they have bent over backwards to put the book out this year to free me up so if I want to, I can walk next year.
I don’t know how I feel anymore.
On one hand, I want to walk more than anything. Some days I wake up just craving that space and solitude, the rhythm of desert days.
But time away, time with myself, and lots of long beach walks have made me question exactly why I want to do this one. I was unable to pull together the finance that would have made the students’ trip work, and without that, the walk seemed an empty thing. Maybe it has been the bushfire tragedy that has struck so many places close to my heart, but somehow for the first time my desire to walk just seemed - selfish.
There are a lot of things I want to do in life; not least write lots of books, about all sorts of things, not just myself and walking (thank god, I hear you all say). I also want to have children.
At this point I have to step back and ask myself if doing another long trek is the right thing for me. I remember, long ago, when I was in between desert walks, my Dad asked me: “If you won the lottery tomorrow, what would you do?” Without a moment’s pause, I said: “I would be back on my walk before you could blink.” And I knew it was true, knew that right then, all I wanted was that walk.
I asked myself the same question yesterday, walking along the beach. If I won lottery tomorrow, what would I do?
And I thought: I would buy myself somewhere really nice to write, and spend the next few years churning out all the book ideas that have been brewing in my head in the time that I have been walking.
And that really made me think.
Because if walking is no longer the first thing that pops into my head, then maybe that is why it is not working out for me to do it right now. And if that is the case - then I need to focus on what IS the right thing for me to do.
Maybe all of this sounds weird and hippy trippy, but I am a great believer in doing the right thing for yourself, and I reserve the right to change what that thing is. Five years ago, it was right for me to set off with a backpack and walk 12000km.
Now, maybe it is time to hang up my sandals, and get on with other things.
I am undecided. And the Sahara still sits in the back of my head like an unfinished book. The Australian deserts still call out, and I am still drawn to that walk, the walk in my own country.
But I fly out of Broome in a couple of days and back to Melbourne (bleeuuggh) - although of course I get to be with Graeme and the kids, which is great. And I have the rest of this year to write more books, enjoy the launch of the second one, and think about whether or not I really need another long walk.
See, when I write that, I can’t bear to give it up…
I hope you stay in touch. I know it isn’t so exciting when there is no walk happening; but for now, it is what it is.
January 13th, 2009 02:56am
Paula
stuffing saddles...
Merry Christmas and a happy New Year – and huge apologies for the long break between updates.
I am up in Broome again, after going back to Melbourne for October and most of November. It was wonderful to step back off the plane into the dense richness of the Wet season; God, I love it. And this time it is even more special, as Graeme and his two kids, Chloe and Taylor, have also come up for a month.
It is the very quiet season for camel treks on the beach and so I have had a bit of time to spend with Chris (my mentor for this next expedition, who runs Ships of the Desert camel treks) whilst he makes my saddles for the next expedition and I assist. I would like to say that he is teaching me how to make them, but the reality is that I am simply a passionate observer of a master at work, and help where it is possible for me not to muck anything up! I punch a hole here and there and stuff some straw in, but Chris is awesome at what he does, and I feel much safer leaving the construction of my equipment in his capable hands.
Here he is, explaining what he does as he goes; and that is me, stuffing straw into the leather – one of those ridiculously basic jobs that needs any old hack to do…
Things are moving quite slowly in terms of getting the schedule together for the walk in April; it is taking me longer than I thought to confirm the route I want to travel, simply because I am unsure of exactly what I will be up against at that time of the year in the region in question – eg: if I am too close to the Fitzroy I run the risk of encountering a croc or two, which doesn’t turn me on in the slightest; but conversely, if I drop too far down south, I will be right in the Great Sandy, and reliant on water drops to get through. I also want to trace the route of a couple of explorers who passed this way, but in the fashion of explorers, poor sods wandering into the depths of nowhere with little or no guidance, their routes tend to wind about in the most circular fashion, and through some incredibly tough country (when you look at where they ended up one wonders how Australia was ever mapped at all – God they must have been determined). I am extremely keen to remain in their footsteps, but I am still weighing up what is actually viable and what isn’t.
Chris is extraordinarily helpful in this as in all things. In every piece of advice he gives me, from camels to equipment to packing systems, I am conscious of all that I missed in my previous camel treks, and wonderfully grateful to have found someone prepared to give up their time to help me put together a trip exactly the way I want it. I am frequently in awe of the sheer practicality of his ideas, most of which have been developed after years of trekking and experience to further improve and fine tune the art of walking, something I am right into after years of doing it in various ways.
view from the beach shelter at Cape Leveque
In the meantime, we have had a wonderful time being on holiday in Broome. Luckily for me, since my camera cracked up, both Chloe and Taylor have taken to the image business with a passion, and I have to say their efforts are probably far better than mine anyway. For two teenagers rather more interested in playstation than natural wonders (who isn’t at 15) they have
taylor's pic Cape Leveque
done an extremely good job of making the most of Broome and everything around it; we just came back from an overnight trip at Cape Leveque, which is more than a little warm at this time of year, and I am astonished at the quality of photos Taylor got with a camera he only picked up a couple of
taylor's pic
days ago…guess maybe I should be paying him to come on the next desert trek.
Many people find the Broome Wet season tough to take, but I just love it, and I am glad to say the kids are taking to it with a very good will. Before they arrived I was staying out at the camel camp attached to the camel farm – basic but I just loved it, being a very comfortable open camp (as you can
Camel Camp
see here, but only after it had been cleaned out for cyclone weather). Very fortunately for me, some friends have gone away for six weeks and needed someone to mind their house and dogs – and hence Graeme, the kids, and I are ensconced in air conditioned comfort, which makes the midday heat far easier for them to take having come up from Melbourne. The beach has been safe enough to swim in – as long as you stay inside the breakers there have been no serious jelly fish around – but even so, it was brilliant to get up to Cape Leveque and swim in jelly-free water. It is eight years since I have been up to the Cape and I had almost forgotten just how beautiful it is, all red rock, white sand, and jewel green sea. At night the full moon rose up over the still
CHloe's pic Cape Leveque
sea and looked like a shining pathway straight to the sky.
Chloe has taken to the local wildlife with abandon – I am going to have to examine her luggage before she gets on the plane to make sure there are no strange geckos, or anything more sinister. She rather liked the idea of taking this little guy home
Chloe and a croc mate..check that girl's bags
from the croc farm…
Taylor may be in more danger of putting the dogs in his bag to take home – they are two of the more adorable canines I have had the privilege of knowing, and they rather enjoy Taylor hooking along the beach with him on his runs.
Graeme and Taylor after sunset beers and dog swimming
Graeme will stay up here for as long as time and work permit, and it is bliss to have him with me. I only have a couple of months up my sleeve to work out route etc, and I am glad he is here to go through it with me. It is always infinitely easier to work this stuff out with two heads rather than one.
There is so much to learn for this trek – so much about the flora, what tree is which, what Ironwood (poisonbush – very dangerous for camels) looks like, and how I identify it straight away. Cutting through station fences and retying them; making sure I have really considered exactly how much water I will need (no regular wells like in the Sahara!). In so many ways it is a far more relaxed walk than the Sahara was, but in others, it is a whole new process, and I am just as much a beginner as I ever was.
Which makes me grateful once more that I have Chris on hand to advise and help. I could ask for no better guidance than he gives, and increasingly I am aware of how fortunate I am that he agreed to mentor me. There is no better thing than being taught by someone who has genuinely been there and done that.
And in the meantime, another beer watching the sunset on Cable Beach never goes astray….
sunset, good company, great dogs and cold beer...heaven
I promise to update more regularly.
September 19th, 2008 04:27am
Paula
Well, I guess life could be a lot tougher.
I have to say that the Sahara was never quite this lush and enjoyable; saddle the camels up, go for a quiet wander down to the beach, load some tourists up, and wander along the beach for an hour. Repeat three times a day on one of the most beautiful beaches in the world, and you have my current existence. Doing it tough, huh?
But I do have a bit of another agenda. Chris Hill, who runs Ships of the Desert, is an endless source of information.
The saddle you can see on old Horris there in the picture, was made by Chris by hand - as was every saddle in the camel train. These are skills I simply don’t have, and it is great to be learning them. Chris has offered to teach me how to make all my equipment properly, and tailored to my camels. It is a great opportunity for me.
,
Meantime, I have been chilling out in my tent,and enjoying the heat. It is wonderful to be back handling camels again, and just walking. ALl of the various backpackers and others who work for Chris have been wonderfully welcoming to me, and happy to help with anything I don’t understand - they have also been great at having a cold beer at the end of the day!
I have been busy planning the next walk. At this stage - after talking it all through and looking at maps, distances, etc - I have come up with a proper structure for it which I feel quite excited about.
I plan to set off in April next year, with four camels. I will walk on the edges of the Great Sandy Desert, and down part of the Tanami, to a community near Alice. At that point I will pick up a group of 6 Year Nine students - I am hoping to run a competition in conjunction with the Australian Geographic Society to select the kids, but it is aimed at those who are suffering low self confidence rather than as ‘brat camp’. Kids who have not performed to the level they could do because of self esteem issues, perhaps through overweight, dyslexia, or peer pressure for example. They will walk with me for two weeks. During that time, they will record their experiences pictorally, in written format, and also using a voice recorder, with the aim of producing a group radio project. But most of all I want them to have the peaceful, introspective experience, of exploring their country on foot, with camels, just as it was by the pioneers who opened it up. Another group will join me for the same amount of time on the other side of ALice, this time walking the historical Ghan route, and much of the focus there will be on the incredible history of the Afghans in Australia. I hope that seeing some of the crumbling remains of the Ghantowns and walking int he footsteps of those brave and staunch men will give the students a wider appreciation of the rigours of our history.
All of the students diaries will be collated to make a professional product they can take back to their schools, and share with their classmates. After the groups leave, I will continue on down the original Ghan route to Maree, and, I hope, meet with the descendants of the Afghans who still live in the area. then I will walk through to Broken Hill, where there is still a mosque built by the Afghans; and on through to Melbourne, arriving in Mid December I hope. On the last day, I hope to walk into Federation Square, accompanied by all the students who have participated, so they can be introduced publicly, and awarded their diaries in finished form.
I
I feel really excited about this one; firstly, I have a whole two and a half months of blissful, peaceful walking, in my own country, with few or no disturbances, down to Alice. Then I have the excitement and joy of walking with the students, and watching them interact both with the walk itself and also the indigenous communities they will enter on the way; then finally, I have the wonderfully fascinating historical route down the Ghan. The walk is just under 5000km in total, a lovely manageable distance, divided into distinguishable sections. I just can’t wait.
As soon as I have a release date for the second book, I will let you know. Thankyou very much for the many emails and letters of support I have received about the first one, and let me reiterate again that I do apologise for the lack of photographs in it, but I simply don’t have access to the photos from the European walk. Trust me, the second book will have loads!
And in the meantime, I will keep on plodding down Cable Beach, and looking at these beautiful sunsets that I never tire of. I can’t believe I lived here for years and never realised I would one day by walking the very animals that inspired my first walk all that time ago. There is a wonderful sense of having come full circle.
September 13th, 2008 06:09am
Paula
I do apologise for the long break. In essence, I shut down everything until I finished the book, which I now have!
I will make this brief until the next time - which will be soon, and will also include photos.
I got stonewalled in my plans to return to Africa, again. Fed up and tired of going around in circles, I started looking into doing the Australian walk I have often dreamed of. The result of that was getting in touch with Chris Hill, who runs Red Sun camels and Ships of the Desert in Broome - the camel treks which go down Cable Beach each day. Chris is a renowned camel man who has walked every desert in Australia at some point, and what he doesn’t know about camels isn’t worth knowing.
We got talking, and he invited me up to stay for a while and talk camels, routes, etc. And thus I find myself back in paradise, camped at the camel farm, and walking camels down the beach every day. My walk is coming together - I plan to leave next April to walk from Broome to Melbourne, following for a length of time the route of the Afghan cameleers who traversed much of the Australian outback in the days before motorised transport. I am really excited about this, and if I can’t go back to Africa, then this for me is not a second best option but rather a walk of pure joy.
I am here for a few weeks and then will come back up during the Wet to organise my camels and equipment. Chris has been an incredible support and fountain of infformation, and it is fascinating to watch the way he handles the camels - I have a lot to learn before I could even begin to know a fiftieth of what he does. It is a great experience for me.
Even better is wandering down Cable Beach each morning and evening, that gorgeous long white expanse that I fell in love with so long ago. Broome is where it all started for me, and there is a wonderful synchronicity in coming back here and dreaming another walk. I am so excited about walking my own country, and particularly by the extraordinary history of the Afghan community and the role they played in opening up this country, amidst persecution, misunderstanding, and outright racism. It seems an apt time to remember their siginificant contribution, and to honour their extroardinary courage in a lonely and hostile land.
I hope that my second book will be out next year. It was hard to write, and I just hope I have done the journey justice. I also hope that the African journey is not yet really finished, but in the meantime, I am soooo looking forward to the next one…
Photos next time I promise.
Paula
July 3rd, 2008 03:41am
Paula
Things have been ticking over quietly amidst the usual hubbub of pitching for more sponsorship and trying to iron out logistics. The region of Algeria, Libya and Egypt remains uncertain - particularly Algeria, and my plans remain in flux as a result, although I feel quite certain that I will get back in one form or another.
I have been writing, and speaking, and planning, and enjoying all of those things. Slow Journey South seems to be going well, although I don’t have sales figures for it. Below are excerpts from some of the reviews that have come out:
Paula’s voice is a fresh and compelling one. She writes really well in this genre and is thoroughly inspirational—giving much in the way of personal learnings and insights about life. Slow Journey South will appeal to those that have an interest in travel stories, those that are interested
in walking and hiking and those that enjoy reading about Africa and the Camino Santiago. This is one of the finest examples of travel literature in a long time! – Angus and Robertson
Even if you can’t bear sand between your toes, you’ll enjoy this Slow Journey South. –Cairns entertainment review
Beautifully written, the book inspires setting a goal and seeing it through – The Weekly Times
Enthralling and absorbing…By the end, I was hungry for more – Sun Herald, Sydney
I feel a little sad that it is taking me so long to get the second book out; but it is a much more difficult one to write, and I find that I am editing myself a lot more than in the first. I try not to avoid writing, but I do find myself escaping into the internet whenever I strike a difficult part of the walk!
I was watching a movie about Africa last night, and I suddenly felt a jolt of longing so hard it hurt; although I feel inestimably glad to be raised in such a prosperous country as Australia, there are times when I miss the crazy wildness of Africa, and just want to be back in the heat and freedom of it. Others, I look around me at the comfort and calm, and feel passionately relieved that my life is so easy, with mates on the end of the phone and all life’s nice things on tap. I know I will miss those things when I go back.
IT is hard sometimes to realise also that it is not necessarily just the journey that pulls me back, but also, now, the desire to finish what I started; this drives me just as much as the walk itself. At some point it became a real goal in itself, to achieve the desert crossing, without missing a step; whether or not this is politically possible, I remain committed to achieving as much of that goal as I can. It is almost a point of pride for me now. I guess it just feels unfinished.
In some ways I wonder if this is why I find writing the second book so hard - the unfinished journey sits within like an undigested meal, leaving me uncomfortable and restless.
I just finished reading a book called The Islamist, a true account of a London raised Muslim who went from moderate to extremist, and then, via an intense and confronting journey, back to moderate, spiritual Islam again. I was so absorbed by the book that I read it in one sitting, often crying. It brought home to me with great impact how tragic it is that Islam is increasingly misunderstood not only by those who are not adherents, but, and even more dangerously, by those within it’s very folds. If the voices of reason, of the true clerics and scholars of Islam, cannot be heard over the histrionics of the extremists and ignorant preachers of hatred, we shall all suffer the consequences - muslims included. For me this book was a direct portrayal of my own experiences of Islam in the desert and in the UK, and a wonderfully open exposure of the hypocrisy of the Saudi Arabian regime, which operates an oppressive, incredibly racist system in open defiance of international human rights - with Western co-operation and sanction. Increasingly, I feel outraged and deeply concerned that the real sources of violent extremism are able to hide beneath Western ignorance and tolerance, and are aided by governments and individuals courted by Western governments. Most of all, I feel terribly saddened that the quiet majority voice of humble, spiritual, moderate Islam is drowned out by these few loud and ill informed antagonists.
I hope so much that wisdom prevails.
OOps, look out for threats to my well being….
ha ha
cheers
Paula
June 10th, 2008 03:52am
Paula
Finally, I have a new plan - and my walk is happening again. Oh, thank god.
Niger is out. Finished, Kaput, do not pass go and collect your two hundred dollars OR one’s camels. But - as there always is - looks like I have found an alternative.
Algeria, which was politically not an option when I first began organising this walk, has become one now. Although it will mean missing a section of Northern Niger, I can begin my walk again from the Algeria/Niger border - at In Guezzam - and continue on into Libya and Egypt.
This discovery gave me a whole new lease on life. Although it still means missing Niger, I am not missing so much distance by doing it this way - not like when I was looking at starting directly into Libya. Even better, I feel the old enthusiasm take hold of me again when I think about walking in Algeria - unlike the sense of disappointment I felt when I thought I would just have to skip two thousand kilometres and walk only the tail end through Libya and Egypt. Now I look at the beautiful stretches in Algeria and feel gripped by excitement again - now this, I can do!
I am suddenly back headlong into visas and agencies, consuls and embassies, routes and budgets and - yes - more sponsorship. I am writing at a rate of knots to try to get the second book finished before I go back, and at this stage, I am booked to go on the first of September. One of these days I will get myself organised well in advance….
This will be a much different walk; the countries are far more strict regarding guides, and women walking alone, so I will need to have registered guides with me at all times. I don’t actually mind this anymore, since until a few weeks ago, I couldn’t see my way forward to walking at all! Now I am just dying to get out there and finish this thing, make it the rest of the way across the desert that I have been missing for the past twelve months.
I always wanted to walk in Algeria, so I am excited to get the chance to do so. Nothing is definite yet, and I know that there are endless hurdles yet to cross, but for me it is all back on again, in a way it hasn’t been since I left Niger, and I am thrilled. I am in the process of trying to track down Ibrahim, my old guide from Menaka, to see if he is prepared to take my camels for me up to the Algerian border. I would be just stoked if I could walk with my old camels and kit.
Meanwhile, life back here is plodding along. Sometimes the desert feels far away, when I am knee deep in writing, domestic existence, and speaking stuff. The writing is quite an escape sometimes, it puts me back in there, walking and dreaming. I need that. I miss it.
My book seems to be going well, and it is really lovely to receive so many enthusiastic and supportive emails from those who have read it. I love Mondays - my inbox is always full of messages from people who read the book over the weekend! I get a thrill from reading every one.
Alistair Humphreys, a guy who was cycling around the world at the same time I was walking, has just emailed to say he is planning a huge ski across the Antarctic. Google the guy - he is totally legit, and I reckon if anyone can make it work, he can. Love hearing about this kind of stuff.
I have several thousand kilometres left to walk, and finally it feels like it is going to happen. The relief is huge; I have barely dared think about my walk in the past few months, so worried I simply wouldn’t find a way to make it work. Of course, there are still financial concerns, but then there always are; that is just an obstacle to be overcome, not a dead end. Knowing I can actually go back gives me all the impetus I need to actually make it work.
I will update soon with all the details of when and where I am going. In the meantime, thankyou to all the kind people who comment and email; and a heartfelt SORRY to all of you who ask where the photographs are in the book, as everyone seems to. I promise the next one will be full of them; I was unable to access photos for this one, to my deep regret.
Cheers
May 3rd, 2008 03:28am
Paula
Life has just been so cool of late.
Firstly, my darling mate Sarah, she of the first reconnaissance mission to Morocco in Slow Journey South, has just been out to visit for two weeks. It is such, such bliss to have had time with her - one of the hard things about living a dual nationality existence is how one eternally misses the people and places of one or the other all the time. It was wonderful to have her here, and we passed many a pleasant hour over long lunches and dinners - one of which is pictured here, along with another friend, Cath.
It has been such a busy month, one way or another. I went to Sydney and Brisbane for publicity for the book, and had a great time flouncing about feeling like the queen of sheba with my Random House publicist, Annabel. She did a marvellous job of hoiking me from one radio station to another, and in and out of book signings. She also loves sushi, so we did well on that front. It has been great to see the book getting so much publicity and such lovely reviews - I get chuffed every time I read a new one. Thanks most of all to those of you who have contacted me directly or left comments on the site saying how much you enjoyed it - they mean such a great deal, and give me a thrill every time I open up my email.
Sarah and I travelled up to my home town of Mansfield, and passed a couple of awesome days. Since I often feel a bit boring writing my blog when I am not walking, this particular trip gave me something to put in here that some of you may actually find interesting. Since my family left Mansfield, nearly ten years ago now, I have been - shall we say - horseless. Ok, I know I have had plenty of camels to keep me company, but I grew up on horses, and I miss them. Even more importantly, I miss the beautiful mountains and rivers of home, and the peace and joy of riding through them.
So it was just utterly wonderful to take Sarah up to stay with an old friend of mine, Lesley Dunlop, whose family has run Merrijig Lodge ever since I was a kid. She is the kind of mate I tend to catch up with every few years and never feel like I’ve skipped a beat; she has travelled all over, and is endlessly great company. Merrijig Lodge - and Lesley and her Dad, Chris Dunlop - have always run brilliant trail rides all through the hills around Merrijig and Mt Buller, anything from half a day to three days, and it is a real pleasure for me to go home and catch up with Lesley for a ride. We took Sarah out and
she came back gobsmacked by the sheer beauty of the country we rode through - if a little sore! For me it was a long breath out after weeks of racing around cities made up and speaking about myself and the book (alright, I am sure that you all think that sounds wonderfully glam, but it actually does get a bit tiring after a while - precious as I realise that sounds, and believe me, I am SOOOO grateful to be getting publicity at all, etc etc….). We drove up to Buller and sat in the sun and I thought how lucky I am to have grown up in such a beautiful part of the world - I hope I find a way to move back there in years to come.
One of the bonuses about Merrijig Lodge is it’s proximity to the legendary Merrijig pub - or to give it the official title, the Hunt Club Hotel, Merrijig. Sitting outside on the verandah sinking a quiet couple of ales after a horseride has to be one of the great pleasures in life. Sure beats the hell out of walking into dusty Tomboctou for a laugh. Sitting there watching the day fade into the glorious
dusky blue and rosy pinks of the High Country sunset, I felt lonely for the desert again, but also comforted by being back in the beauty I grew up amongst. It reminded me how truly important it is to live your life where you feel happy, and where the country matches your soul. Some of us just weren’t built for cities. I’m one of them. Fortunately for me, Graeme also loves the mountains up there, so I am not alone in my dreaming of going back home some day soon.
If any of you are thinking of visiting Australia any time soon, I cannot recommend any place more highly 
than Merrijig Lodge to see the glorious country of the Alps. Have a beer with Lesley for me…
All of the excitement over both the book and Sarah being here has helped me totally refocus on two things: the next book, and the last leg of the walk. I feel utterly enthused about both, and am writing again at last and planning madly. I sometimes feel so excited about how much I have learned, and changed, over the last few years; even this enforced break, which I once felt so resentful about, has in so many ways been such a wonderful learning curve. I feel strongly that this next phase of the walk may well be the most rewarding; if the first desert trek was dominated by the utterly rotten trauma of my marriage break up, and the second phase was a real shock in a physical and logistical sense, I have a weird belief that this last desert leg will be a consolidation of all that has gone before - a peaceful, well organised, well outfitted, and satisfying walk. The reality may well wind up totally to the contrary, of course, but I feel so very much more confident in myself about it. It has taken so long for me to really feel at ease with what I have done, and to believe in my ability to carry on; sometimes I have wondered if I have just been lucky, fluked it to get this far, and it is hard to look back and see what I have done right rather than simply see all the mistakes I have made. But I guess that in itself is a continual spur to always want to do better, and that is where I am at right now - full of the desire to really get out there and do it well, to walk every bit I can and enjoy it.
In the meantime I am appreciating every wonderful thing about being home amongst family, friends, and the accroutrements of modern life. Much and all as I would love to say I have come out of my walk with a desire to live like those in the countries I have passed through - I am a shameless advocate of the good life, and of the freedoms our life here in Australia offers. Whilst I love the thrill and exotic nature of the places I pass through, it is bliss to come home to a clean, safe, prosperous and educated nation, where the quality of life is so incredibly good. We are unbelievably fortunate. Although I learn much about humility and modest needs when I am travelling, it also highlights for me how amazingly lucky we are to be able to choose to visit the countries I have - and then return home. Our lives are easy, blessed, and full of a myriad of opportunity. We have much to be thankful for, I think.
To all of those booksellers who have been so welcoming in recent weeks, thankyou, and to Annabel and all at Random House, my thanks know no bounds for your generosity and hard work on my behalf. I am seriously chuffed to see the book get to Number two on the Sydney Morning Herald Travel book bestseller list! To all of you who have bought it - an enormous thankyou. I will hurry up and get the second one happening.
I called in to the local bookstore in Mansfield - after savage prompting from Sarah - and stutteringly offered to sign some copies of the book. It is hard not to feel a total plonker doing this, and I always cringe in shame, but the owners seemed ok with it and were lovely, so despite needing a soothing ale afterwards, I think it was a good experience for all involved.
Please keep emailing. You have no idea how heartwarming it is to hear of so many others who are dreaming and planning out there - particularly women! I think there is an endless supply of brilliant, creative, gutsy chicks out there who are just packing up and doing it. How utterly wonderful. I love hearing from every one of you.
I hope you enjoy these pics of the country I come from…slightly different to the desert, but God’s own, indeed.
March 26th, 2008 01:45am
Paula
Hello all –
Well, it is finally here! “Slow Journey South”, my first book, goes on sale in Australia on the 1st of April – widely available in all book stores.
Now, as for those of you not lucky enough to live in Australia (ha, ha, ha) it has taken me some time to come up with an alternative. Just to explain the details to you – until my publishers, Random House, have secured overseas publishers in various countries (unlikely to happen until my book has proven sales in Australia) they will not sell the rights to Amazon, as that would substantially lessen the chances of gaining said publisher.
So the solution we have finally come up with is that the link on this site will go to a store called Gleebooks, in Sydney, who can arrange for sales to overseas.
THIS IS THE LINK: http://www.gleebooks.com.au/default.asp?p=displaybook_asp?bookCode=9781741667967
Here is the first review I received, from the Australia Bookseller and Publisher magazine, I was dead chuffed because this mag goes out to all the various book outlets and buyers, and the review was written by a lady who buys for Angus & Robertson, one of Australia’s biggest book outlets; getting four stars made my day!
Australian Paula Constant has written a lifeaffirming, positive, inspiring and informative narrative of her emotional and physical journey to give up a teaching job in London and walk for three years with her husband—walking out of Trafalgar Square in central London to France, Spain and along the Camino Santiago pilgrim’s walk to Portugal. The book finishes as they reach Africa, but it is far from over as her main dream is to walk right to Cape Town. The ending is left open for a second book that will hopefully cover the remainder of their walk through the Sahara with camels, right down to Cape Town in South Africa. Paula’s voice is a fresh and
compelling one. She writes really well in this genre and is thoroughly inspirational—giving much in the way of personal learnings and insights about life. Slow Journey South will appeal to those that have an interest in travel stories, those that are interested
in walking and hiking and those that enjoy reading about Africa and the Camino Santiago. This is one of the finest examples of travel literature in a long time!
Melanie Barton is fiction category manager at Angus & Robertson
This review from Australian Bookseller & Publisher magazine is reproduced by kind permission of Thorpe-Bowker, a division of R R Bowker LLC. © Copyright 2008, Thorpe-Bowker
The official in-store date for the book is 1st of April, although it may be possible to find it a week before then (yeah right, Paula, like there are going to be mad queues….) and trust me – I will be there accosting unwitting shoppers and coercing them into buying a book!! It is hard not to feel excited, it has been so long coming and feels great to finally have “evidence” of my walk out there – my own story.
It has also helped reinvigorate me in planning the next leg. I received an email from Niger today – after a move by the rebel MNJ Tuareg forces (whom the Nigerienne government, in their wisdom, refuse to negotiate with as they are considered little more than bandits and drug runners rather than legitimate complainants) to release 25 prisoners – a move largely seen as a peaceful overture in part engineered by Libya - the MNJ has unfortunately gone on to launch another attack on a military base, killing two. I cringe every time I hear news such as this, as every incident lessens my chances of returning to Niger this September. But this time around I will not be caught out again, and am organizing my plan B to enter in Libya in the event that Niger cannot get it together.
You can look at the goings on in Niger at www.niger1.com – I have been away from the desert long enough that it actually looks attractive to me once more!
I am busy writing the second book; seeing the first one actually in print has really helped to motivate me in a lot of ways. I find it very difficult at times – writing about my marriage break up for example is far from simple or easy. I also find it difficult often to really explain what it is like out there – I realize, reading back over my website and diaries, that I have become very accustomed to sanitizing my accounts, partly to avoid worrying anyone back home and partly because I was often so exhausted when I reached a town that I felt reluctant to go re live the last stretch I had been on. What interests me now is that in reading my diaries – which I have been doing lately for the first time since I got back – I remember so much that I had lost, or blocked out – whatever is the reality. And that can be difficult to write about, because I guess there was a lot of pretty hard stuff, and to some degree you can’t afford to dwell in that when you are out there doing it. It tends to come home to you long afterwards, waking you up in the night and making you flinch at involuntary times, or alternatively, bore the hell out of unsuspecting mates when you have had too much to drink. One friend said to me a few months ago, when I got into one of these accounts – “oh God Paula, not another bloody camel story” – and I thought: oh, dear, I think I better shut up.
So I try to restrict myself to those audiences who I know get it and are patient – my Mum, Graeme, Lachlan. It is a bit much to expect the general populous to have much interest in camel induced sleep deprivation!
Last week I went to Sydney to do the first of the publicity events for my book. This was the HDS booksellers conference – those are the guys who run the newslink outlets at airports, and various other brands worldwide. I addressed a conference of their regional managers and buys, which I thoroughly enjoyed. It is the first time I have done a talk about this book rather than the desert walk, and it was a joy to speak about the Europe walk again, to go right back to the beginning where all of this started. I ended with a passage from the book which I wanted to reproduce here, since I find it helpful to revisit myself, and a reminder of what is really important:
I think back to the person who sat on a sand dune and dreamed of walking through Africa, and I think of how truly powerful our dreams are, think that it is our dreams which tell us who we really are and what is important for us, that they are our identity, our reality, our comfort in the dark night and our defence against the false paths strewn in front of us by a society which does not honour their wisdom.
I think of how very close I came on so many occasions to deserting my dreams because they seemed too hard, or because people told me they were crazy. And then I think that this walk is the most important thing I have ever done, that I have learned more about myself and the world around me in this last year than I did in the thirty years before it, and I take a deep breath and throw back my head and look at the stars blazing with otherworldly power far above me in the clear crystal desert night and I feel the rip tide within surge and ebb once more and I think to myself:
There is nothing I cannot do.
I still love reading that passage. It reminds me of how it is out there.
I hope those of you who buy it enjoy it. And to the London mob – as soon as I have the advance copies in my hands, a copy will be winging its way to each of you, promise. Love you guys so much, Jo, Steph, Steve, Sarah, Dan and Stefania….I miss you.
Cheers.
February 13th, 2008 04:02am
Paula
Some of you may remember a cycling gentleman that I met up with in Gao, Mali, last year, by the name of Lachlan Prouse. A fellow Australian, Lachlan had at that point already completed an incredible trip through over fifty countries, including Iran and Afghanistan - this is him here, with my good self.
Well, last week, Lachie turned up, still on two wheels, at our house in the Dandenongs - having landed in Perth some time ago and taken a leisurely cycle across Australia, catching up with mates and family on the way. I can't even begin to tell you how good it was to see him.
Between the last time we met and now, Lachlan has taken an amazing path - through some of the toughest African countries, including the Congo and Angola, to cycle all the way down to Cape Town. On the way he suffered from malaria; was shot at; struggled with infected leg ulcers; and survived months of mosquito infestations, tough country, heat and illness. I said the last time that I met him, that Lachlan is one of the unsung heroes of adventuring, whose exploits make the rest of us look pretty shabby by comparison. He is also one of life's great, gentle souls, who sees his time on the bike as a chance to explore his thoughts, and enjoy his solitude - and who never compromises his integrity.
For me, having Lachie turn up at home was a wonderful chance to really talk about my walk with someone who has seen me in the middle of it, and even better, someone who really gets what it is like to do this stuff. I don't think I stopped talking all weekend, and I felt like I had been through some great therapy by the end of it. For me Lachlan is the one person with whom I do not need to explain things too -he has been there and done it, to a greater degree than I have, and he gets it, totally.
I often come across people who have done pretty amazing stuff. But I have yet to meet anyone who has done anything in such a committed, wholehearted, yet understated way as Lachie. No website, no media, no sponsors; just a miniscule budget, a lot of hand stitched clothes, an old $200 bike that has gone all the way since China, and a thousand nights spent in yurts and huts from Mongolia to Lesotho. He has outraced bandits intent on taking his life, stoned soldiers unconcerned with whether or not their bullets hit him, and the incessant demands of starving and sick locals desperate for whatever he may be able to provide. He has done the tough months of isolation and pain, and withstood the incredible mental strain of pushing through country after country under the most demanding of conditions.
And yet we sit out on the balcony over a beer and all I am really aware of is the calm, gentle acceptance of someone who knows their place in life, and is happy to simply be in it. I wanted to put this post up because for me, and I know for Graeme also, having Lachie in our home for a few days was one of the highlights of the last twelve months. Wherever you are, mate, happy wheels, and may our paths cross again - I will be busting my butt to make it to Cairo the same time as you!
All our love. Stay cool.
January 30th, 2008 03:40am
Paula
This has been the longest break my blog has ever had. I guess that I was holding on so tight last year, that I just needed to give myself a break; and I am happy to say that having done so, it feels like a whole new world out there.
Firstly, to those who knew him – Frank Walshe, our Dad, died on the 10th of January, at home in Cornwall. He lived well and inspired us all in his own way, and we will miss him.
I have been back in Australia for a while now after spending a couple of months in the UK. It was wonderful to spend time with Dad and his wife Ela, and Ela’s daughter Tanya, before he passed away, and I was glad I could go. It was also an enormous joy to be with my London mates again, and able to talk about the ups and downs the previous months had brought in terms of the walk, to people who understood it.
I spent a lot of time sleeping, getting fit, and weaning myself out of all the bad habits I had fallen into on my return from the walk, cutting back on the mad fits of mild hysteria and over-drinking and trying to get back to what it was that was important to me; and finding out where I wanted to go from here.
Unsuprisingly, I guess, although I confess it did come as something of a shock to me, I found that with a bit of rest, my enthusiasm for my walk and the desire to see this adventure through to the end, returned with a huge wallop. For the first time since I got back from the desert last time, I began looking at photographs with an eye to more than speaking engagements or articles; rather I just began viewing them with friends, talking about where I was and what was going on. I began to relive the journey and to fall in love with it again from outside, something I had found incredibly hard to do in the aftermath of the walk last year, plunged as I was into trying to talk about it, write about it, and get it back on the road. I desperately needed a rest from all of that and a chance to actually reflect on what the walk had really been – and, perhaps more importantly, to forgive myself for not having made it all the way across the desert in one hit.
This was a big one for me. No matter how many times friends or family, or indeed other expeditioners, told me that I had done everything I could, and that my only alternative had been to accept that Niger was impassable and return to Australia, I had found it extraordinarily difficult to accept either the reality of their words, or that I wasn’t somehow at fault for being forced to stop before I wanted to. I had struggled terribly with a gnawing sense of doubt, failure and inadequacy, and shed a bucket of tears in the middle of dark nights, fearing that my dream was finished and that it was in some way entirely down to my own inadequacies. I compared myself with one of my heroes, Michael Asher, who walked the same path (to this point in Niger) that I have, with his wife, Mariantonietta, twenty years ago. He was forced to a halt in the very same village that I was; and yet he managed to convince the authorities to let him continue, and went on to walk across war-torn Chad, into Sudan and finally to the Nile in Egypt, thus making the first European West to East crossing of the Sahara.
I wondered why I had failed where he succeeded; I felt that any honour or distinction my walk may have earned, was lost the second I had to leave my camels and take a plane out of there. No matter what the reasons, I couldn’t help but feel horrendously inadequate and depressed by the outcome of what had been such high hopes.
Asher wrote a book about his expedition – Impossible Journey. I read it years ago, before I had ever even left London. It seemed so otherworldly at the time to be almost like a moon landing; I understood nothing of what he had done, and the entire tale felt incredible and, indeed, impossible. I measured myself against this ex-SAS soldier and biographer of Thesiger, renowned author and expedition leader, and found myself horribly wanting. I doubted that I could ever even hope to emulate such a man, and I put the book away with forboding and doubt tumbling through my mind.
A couple of weeks ago, and just as I was feeling a new energy and vigour rush back into my mind and body, a new push for the walk starting in myself, my Aunt gave me another copy of the book and asked if I had read it. Full of trepidation, but figuring it was about time I faced my fears, I opened the book.
It was the best thing I could have done.
Far from depressing or humiliating me, Asher’s tale buoyed and encouraged me. Having virtually mirrored his route until this point, I could relate entirely to every description of place, guide, camel, landscape, and experience; I could feel every doubt and laugh ruefully at every cockup. I empathized with his concerns and laughed at his observations, and for the first time since I left Mauritania, I felt comforted by the knowledge that not only did someone else absolutely understand what I have been through – but also, and far, far more importantly for me, I felt the first stirrings of real pride and relief at my own accomplishment. Here was someone who I have long admired and respected, and yet when I read his book – he had fallen into so many of the same traps I did, had so many of the same problems I encountered.
Yes, I envy him terribly the fact that he was able to continue his journey and cross the desert in one hit. Far smarter than I, Asher and his wife travelled much further each day, riding their camels for about half of every day’s march. If I were to ever attempt another desert crossing I would do the same thing; but mine is a walk, and so, somewhat stubbornly, I stick to my promise of making every step from one side of the desert to another.
But the most important outcome for me was the feeling of beginning to actually respect my own journey, and, for the first time, to accept that it wasn’t my fault that I had to take a break; and also to discover that my will to complete the journey had returned with a vengeance, this time accompanied by a true enthusiasm for the remaining country.
This was an extremely vital development. I had been horribly aware, in the dark months after my return last year, that my true desire to continue had suffered a real setback. Deep down, far where I couldn’t speak about to anyone, I asked myself if I could really face going back; if I genuinely wanted to complete this walk at all. I thought of the bad guides and of starving camels, of tribal councils and corrupt officials, of machine guns and menacing intruders to my camp, or begging women and uncomprehending nomads. I thought of the prickles and exhaustion and just plain fear sometimes, and, perhaps far harder, of the intense loneliness and ache that comes from months of isolation within another culture. I felt deeply tired within, tired of fighting for sponsorship, of trying to get back there, or pushing and pushing, for years now, to make this dream a reality.
So it was sheer bliss to realize that having given myself a true rest – mental as well as physical; having spent hours doing yoga, and resting my mind, and concentrating on making my body well and my mind still, that suddenly, I had rediscovered my love for this walk again. Suddenly I could feel once again the immense excitement and sense of anticipation that I get looking out over that deserted, empty space, the infinite realm of possibility that almost chokes me with longing at the beginning of every walk, the urge to get into it, to get beyond that first vista, to find what the journey will bring, what inner and outer voyages of discovery I will make. I felt my mind open up once more, and deep inside I felt a resurgence of the determination that got me this far. I came back to Australia and I thought: Now. NOW I’m ready to go back.
It’s funny, but I think life just wouldn’t let me do it until I got to that place in my mind.
So now I am back and thoroughly into it. My book comes out in two months (!!!!) and I have been thrilled watching the cover come into life, and the final shape it is taking. Even though this book covers the European walk, which now seems so far away, it is with a massive sense of satisfaction that I watch it coming into being; as if finally, I have some tangible proof of my experience. Finally, my story, told the way I want to. I can’t wait to hold it in my hands, and for you all to read it!
I am booked to return to the desert on September the 1st. The situation in Niger is better, but not entirely resolved; but I am working on the basis that it will be. Somehow, I will find a way to continue my journey. It is just not finished for me, and now – I want it. Truly, and deep in my heart.
I want to leave you with some words I found my TS Eliot, in a book called “Four Quartets” that my Mum sent out to me whilst I was walking last time. They have been an inspiration and comfort to me:
In order to arrive there,
To arrive where you are, to get from where you are not,
You must go by a way wherein there is no ecstasy.
In order to arrive at what you do not know
You must go by a way which is the way of ignorance.
In order to possess what you do not possess
You must go by the way of dispossession.
In order to arrive at what you are not
You must go through the way in which you are not.
And what you do not know is the only thing you know
And what you own is what you do not own
And where you are is where you are not.
Happy New Year to you all.
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