IT’S embarrassing. I’ve only been walking for 20 minutes, and I have to ask my group to stop. I haven’t spotted an elusive rock wallaby or a magnificent wildflower. No, I’m asking them to turn around because my shoe is falling apart. I don’t know whether it makes it better or worse that I was half expecting this to happen. I had packed duct tape in preparation and yet still wore my 10-year-old hiking boots, on a three-day adventure. I’d predicted my boot’s demise to the point that I’d contemplated packing my joggers into my day pack. I didn’t though, and now I’m paying the price. As my guide and walking buddies watch on, I quickly wrap the toe of my shoe with silver tape. “There, fixed,” I say. But they weren’t fixed. Not by a long shot.
The Arkaba Walk
For a year leading up to my departure for South Australia, I had been
