GIVE IT A CRACK

The magic of saying yes.

Friends of mine have turned fifty and taken up bushwalking.

Frank and Julie did the research, bought all the shiny, lightweight kit, and in January did an overnight return hike along part of the Blue Mountains’ Six Foot Track, from Katoomba to Cox’s Valley. It was the first overnight, pack-carrying trip for both of them, and in March they backed it up with a three-day walk in Tassie’s Cradle Mountain NP.

I’m cheering their efforts, excited about potential new walking buddies, but I’m also curious. They’re active, outdoorsy people—sailing and paddling, surfing and camping—but they’ve never tried overnight walking before. Why? What brought on the sudden yearning for extended time in the outdoors, for selfsufficiency and adventure?

Part of it is where they’re at in life. Both love a good day walk, but now that their kids are older (thirteen and fifteen), it’s easier to get a weekend away. Their oldest starting Duke of Edinburgh was another trigger—she loves the hiking. A few years ago a nasty tackle left Frank with a broken ankle and he’s since given up soccer, so his weekends are clearer and he’s looking for exercise. Julie’s conscious of staying fit and active, of the truth in ‘use it or lose it’, and keen to swap a weekend of wine and food for something different, more active.

But the other reasons? I’m putting words in their mouths, but a big part of it is the openness and possibilities. Bushwalking offers another way of looking at the world, a deeper, richer, more connected one. It gives an underlying reason to find beautiful places, and then go there and immerse yourself in the experience. Frank and Julie are doing this together, for themselves.

But trying new things is daunting. Jules talks about putting up their pristine tent, filling it with new mats and sleeping bags, cooking in a shiny pan, very aware of the ‘newbie wanker’ judgement (even if just internal). Turning up and trying something new while feeling like you’re wearing a flashing ‘imposter’ label is hard, even without the difficulty of the actual thing.

When you’re younger, it seems easier: There are camps and outdoor ed self-imposed limits. All of this happens in waves, and in layers, and it builds. Ocean swimming gave me the confidence to surf, but I’d already spent decades mucking around in the water, and had the balance, coordination and experience gained from a whole range of sports, from skating to hiking. programs, school holidays, more time and playmates. Gaining new partners and friends or moving to new areas (all less common in your thirties and beyond) can also jolt you out of your routine, exposing you to more opportunities to say yes to new things.

This ‘levelling up’ is why I’m not letting my kids stop swimming lessons until they’re confident and capable, able to swim a kilometre or so in the ocean. I want them to be comfortable in the water, because otherwise a whole world of water-based fun is likely to be unappealing. If you’re not a strong swimmer, surfing, paddling, sailing and diving become things best watched from shore.

Because that’s really what it comes down to: saying yes. Whether it’s to someone else’s suggestions or the harder work of initiating the thing yourself (first realising what you want, then step-by-step making it happen), saying yes comes first.

And why should you? Because trying new stuff gives you energy and interest, a fresh appreciation of your own skills, strengths and interests, and it blows up

Trying new things is life-changing because what you learn morphs and grows and translates into other spheres and interests. Bushwalking and sea kayaking both need navigation, risk assessment and camping skills. Photography classes make people more aware of light, background and framing, also useful for other creative pursuits including writing. You don’t know where the new leads will go, don’t know what joys or insights you’ll discover. Or the tribes you’ll meet, with their own habits and passions, and where these will take you next, slowly transforming until you can’t remember the you that existed before.

So learn how to shit in the woods. Enjoy being dirty, sweaty and sore. Swim better. Go to life-drawing lessons and realise how it makes you look—really properly look—at the human body, and see it in ways you don’t usually. Do whatever it is that appeals, particularly if it involves nature. And just keep saying yes.