Originally published by the Clifton Courier on June 10, 2020

I love a good bushwalk.

I, like so many of my fellow cooped-up Queenslanders fangin’ for a bit of a freedom in These Uncertain Times, decided to take advantage of the glorious autumn weather and head out for a cheeky weekend bushwalk.

Now, before we go anywhere, I think it’s important to call it a bushwalk. It’s not a hike. I mean, it was a few kilometres, so I suppose you could reasonably describe it as “a fair hike” but, when it comes nouns, I prefer the term bushwalk. Perhaps I’m being patriotic or perhaps I’m being pedantic, but I feel like you can only refer to a bushwalk as a hike if you’re stepping on some significant inclines. I mean, I don’t think it needs to be a hard and fast rule with a cut-off. I’m not saying that all ventures where you’re dealing with an overall slope average of 15-degrees or fewer is a bushwalk and anything over 16 degrees is qualifies as a hike – it’s more the vibe of the thing. Plus, speaking of the vibe, “bushwalk” has much more of an Australian aura, whereas “hike” makes me think of characters on reality TV shows like The Hills going on a stroll around the Hollywood sign in expensive activewear. But it’s not just me being all anti-Americanisation – even though I find myself understanding my father’s deep hated of the use of the word “sweater” instead of jumper more and more – it goes beyond that. “Bushwalk” evokes the sound of whipbirds, the crunch of leaves underfoot, the land of sweeping plains and all that jazz. It’s not just about the act of walking; it’s about immersing yourself in nature and shouting out the random lines of bush poetry you remember from Grade 5.

It also gives you a chance to drop a few g’days.

You really need to be prepared for a bit of a g’day action on the track.  The bushwalk from the other day was one of those tracks that looped back on itself, meaning you would pass people coming back the other way. It wasn’t bumper-to-bumper peak hour traffic, but it was fairly busy. Lots of people were coming past.

Usually, your standard bushwalking track isn’t much more than a metre wide, so passing someone can be fairly intimate. And if you lock eyes, you’ve got to do something to acknowledge that moment of connection.

I think most of us can agree that shooting out a cheeky little “g’day” with a nod of the head is the best course of action, even if you wouldn’t normally whip out a “g’day” in your day-to-day life.

I’ll be honest, I don’t utilise that greeting in many other contexts. Sure, I’ll quote Slim Dusty’s G’day G’day, when confronted with something delicious, impressive or unexpected. For example, I might let out a growler of a “g’day g’day” after pulling a loaf of bread out of the oven. Or if I check on a the seeds I planted and see a few sprouts poking out of the soil. Or if I’m scrolling through my inbox and unexpectedly see a photo of a girl who was on the same Contiki tour as me modelling a tracksuit in an email I was sent by a sportswear brand I keep meaning to unsubscribe from. I use it as if to say, “well look at what we’ve got here”.

But I don’t use it for its intended purposes nearly enough.

That’s the beauty of the bushwalk, you connect with the rugged landscape, but you also get to tap into the stereotypical Aussie inside you, ready to tackle a croc or compare knives.

G’day just says so much. It says, “I acknowledge you as a person and I have general warm wishes towards you” but does so in the space of about 1.23 seconds. It’s short enough to get out so an oncoming bushwalker has enough time to fashion a response. And, let’s be honest, all it requires is an earnest “g’day” in return.

But you want to be the first person to speak when confronted with an oncoming bushwalker so you can establish the interaction as an exchange of g’days. You have to be ready to go, otherwise the other bushwalker might let out a “hey there” or, even worse, a “how’s it going?”, which leaves you on the back foot because you have to answer but don’t have enough time to ask how they’re going in return before they move on, and then it looks like you don’t care how they’re going, which makes you the worst bushwalker on the track.

So, if you’re about to go out for a bushwalk, make sure you apply sunscreen, wear a hat and back your water bottle. But, please, do not forget to have a couple g’days locked, loaded and ready to go. It’s critically important.