Memorable moments: The toothbrush technician

In 2023, I set off for Nepal to trek to Everest Base Camp. In preparation, I’d invested in a pair of incredibly expensive, top-of-the-line hiking boots, renowned for their "waterproof" nature. As it turned out, in the extreme, muddy conditions of the Himalayas, "waterproof" simply meant "doesn't let a single drop of sweat or rainwater out." My feet were a squelchy mess for most of the trek, but the boots were comfortable and sturdy—a solid investment for a man who spends his weekends dodging bull ants in Berowra.

I stayed in Kathmandu a few days longer than the rest of my group, giving my boots a cursory clean before flying back to Australia. It wasn't until I was filling out my arrival card on the plane that the gravity of the situation hit me.

Australian Border Force is legendary for its biosecurity rigor. The questions on the arrival card that they use for screening are pointed: Have you been hiking? Is there mud on your shoes? I suddenly had a vivid, terrifying memory of my friend Gavin telling me his boots had been confiscated and permanently destroyed because of a single stray clump of foreign soil.

Panic set in.

As soon as I cleared the initial gates and reclaimed my bag in the arrivals hall, I made a beeline for the nearest restroom. I hauled my luggage into a tiny toilet cubicle and locked the door. I retrieved my boots, my toothbrush, and prepared for battle.

I spent the next hour in a state of frantic, meticulous labor. Using the water from the toilet bowl and my own toothbrush as a scouring tool, I scrubbed every lug, every lace-hole, and every millimeter of the soles. Between the vigorous scrubbing sounds, the splashing, and my own rhythmic muttering and swearing, I can only imagine what the people in the adjacent stalls thought was happening in my cubicle. It must have sounded like I was performing a very aggressive, very watery exorcism.

By the time I was finished, the boots were in a state of cleanliness an army sergeant would have admired. They were glowing. I packed them away, straightened my clothes, and joined the biosecurity queue.

The officer looked at my card, then at me. He was clearly in a risk-averse mood. "It says here you've been hiking," he noted, "but you’ve marked that your boots are clean?"

"Yes," I replied, my chest swelling with pride. I was ready to whip them out and dazzle him with my handiwork. I wanted the "all-clear" to be a standing ovation for my efforts.

He didn't even ask to see them. He just nodded, stamped my card, and said, "Good. You can go through."

Memorable moments: The Khumbu Siren

In 2023, a group of us—including Russell, Gavin, and Rajesh—set out for Everest Base Camp. It’s a brutal trek under the best conditions, but Russell started the journey with a stubborn throat infection. By the time we hit the higher altitudes, it had mutated into the dreaded "Khumbu cough," and it was, without exaggeration, the most extraordinary sound I have ever heard emerge from a human being.

It didn't just sound like a cough; it was a multi-stage acoustic event. It would start as a low, ominous rumble in his chest, then rapidly accelerate in pitch until it hit a high-velocity, uncontrollable wail. To the rest of us, it sounded like the melancholic mating call of a cross-eyed yeti searching for a lost love in a blizzard.

The hike was grueling. For days, we pushed through thin air and steep terrain—conditions that would break most healthy people, let alone someone whose lungs were performing a one-man opera. Yet, Russell was a legend. He remained cheerful and relentlessly adventurous, refusing to let the "Siren" in his chest dampen his spirits.

We, however, were not quite as legendary.

While we genuinely loved Russell, we were also as brutal as the mountain itself. We became so fascinated by the mechanics of the Khumbu Siren that we turned it into a competitive sport. Every time we reached a particularly steep precipice with a good echo acoustic, or a quiet moment of reflection, one of us would drop a perfectly timed one-liner.

Russell, unable to help himself, would start to giggle, which would immediately trigger the wail, echoing off the Himalayan peaks while we stood by, shamelessly scoring points for the "Best Trigger."

It was terrible, really. But as we climbed higher into the clouds, it became the soundtrack of our journey—a mix of thin air, gasping laughter, and the most ridiculous cough in the history of mountaineering. Russell eventually made it to Base Camp, proving that while the mountain is tough, it’s nothing compared to a man who can survive both a chest infection and the "kindness" of his best friends.

Memorable moments: The great Kosciuszko meltdown

I am, by nearly all accounts, a mild-mannered person. I don’t raise my voice much and I certainly don't have a reputation for foul language. But that was before I took a camping trip to Mount Kosciuszko.

Lesson number one: never pitch your tent in a hollow in an area renowned for torrential downpours. By midnight, it felt less like a campsite and more like I was sleeping on a waterbed that was rapidly losing its structural integrity. Water was cascading through the entrance, and the world was pitch black.

Then, a cold spike of adrenaline hit me. I remembered my most precious possession—my non-waterproof iPhone—was somewhere on the floor of this newly formed indoor swimming pool.

I fumbled for my torch. Nothing. I fumbled for the phone, my hands splashing through the rising tide. As the panic set in, a side of me I didn't know existed suddenly took the stage. I began swearing with a ferocity, rhythm, and linguistic variety that would have stunned a dockworker.

The next morning, as we wrung out our sleeping bags, my friend Gavin was still in awe.

"My God, Graeme," he laughed. "I wish I’d recorded that. We could have published a definitive dictionary of the world's most creative swear words based solely on your performance last night."

I went into that tent a calm, spiritual seeker; I emerged the only man in New South Wales to have officially cursed a thunderstorm into submission.

Camping at Bents Basis

A wonderful camping weekend with the boys. Bents Basin has the biggest water hole in NSW so the swimming was glorious. It rained hard during the night but I was all cosy in my spacious new tent.

Pub dinner with Gavin and Michael on a rainy night

Beef pie and truffles at a smart Irish pub in the city. We walked from Central to The Rocks, a walk I always enjoy. It was a stormy night and we got pretty wet at times.

This is one way to stop your T shirt getting wet in the rain!

Gavin using AI to be silly!

Mardi Gras

I went to the Mardi Gras with Gavin, Rajesh and Rajesh's new girlfriend. Gavin and I dressed up in tights!  It was very crowded so we didn't stay too long, then met Tania and some of her friends in King's Cross.

Canyoning adventure

A fabulous weekend of canyoning in the Blue Mountains.

Highlights included: 

• Getting to meet Gavin's wonderful friend Luke who joined us on the adventure. He is so much fun.
• Srini's awesome leadership skills. He has become such a skilled canyoner. We always felt safe.
• Some great abseils down beautiful waterfalls.
• Coming to what I thought was the end of the canyon only to discover some of the best and most beautiful parts of the canyon were still ahead.
• Discovering how much easier and more pleasant abseiling is when you wear gloves!
• Squeezing through some tiny cracks and holes with water pouring through to get back into the lower parts of the canyon.
• Gavin discovering water had got into the dry bad containing his lunch. His very soggy sandwich didn't look very appetising !
• Rayu in his hoodie looking like an ICE official.
• Coming across some very large spiny crayfish (yabbies) in the river. Some were tempted to bring them home for dinner. Gavin, who has just completed an Upschool course about nurturing wildlife, was having none of it!
• A steep climb out of the canyon at the end to enjoy a great view while we had lunch.
• A kilometer from the car, the heavens opened and it absolutely poured. Srini had gone on ahead and we arrived at the road in the bucketing rain, not knowing whether to go left or right.  Watching Gavin try to shield his phone while attempting to call Srini was a sight!
• Sheltering under Srini's gazebo in the pouring rain at Mount Wilson, deciding whether to stay or go. Lots of prophecies about when the weather would clear. Thankfully it did after 90 mins and we were able to set up our tents. I was relieved because I only had a $10 Kmart tent with no flysheet.
• Sitting round the fire eating dinner, chatting, laughing. Always feels so great.
• Luke giving Gavin his luxurious swag to sleep on. Ah, the comfort!
• Sausages and garlic butter for breakfast. A glorious ritual.
• Gavin and I stopping off for an awesome swim on the way home.

Gavin and Luke

Looking surprisingly relaxed!

Climbing out of the canyon to a great view

Mount Wilson camp site

Stopping off for a refeshing swim on the way home

Awesome video footage taken by Ashesh