Crosslands to Calna Creek

It seems an age has passed since the barbed hook of adventure embedded its claw deep into my soul. The strange feeling of waking suddenly after living a thousand lifetimes washes over me and the cloudy haze slowly clears. I feel a journey of many seasons has gone by without me and as I wake, a small spark of eagerness ignites an ember of hope that my somewhat rusty engine will once again crank into a steady rhythmic grind. An overwhelming sense that I have so much more to explore sets in, as my mind turns back to nature.

Today we took a short walk along Berowra Creek, revisiting an area that I had previously spent time training, camping and fly fishing the sand flats. The stillness of the day set a perfect tone for a leisurely stroll along the banks through shady Eucalypt forests, drifting along the track treading lightly over sandstone and gnarled tree roots, barely a spike in heart rate, we emerged at the old Calna creek bridge and across the salt marsh. 

Memories of trail running these parts came flooding back along with feelings of  pain and exhilaration of beating my best time on the old 40klm training run. Questions began forming.....Could I regain the fitness to once again race through these valleys?

Perhaps....

The day was perfect and as time wore on, we found what we were looking for.....