Called Again Read Online Free PDF Page A

important it will be to take a walk in the woods.
    Traveling to Australia was heart wrenching because it put me 12,000 miles away from the person I loved most. But hiking the six-hundred-mile Bibbulmun Track was one of the best things I could have done for Brew, for myself, and for our impending marriage. Five months is a short time to date before getting engaged.But instead of spending the first month of our engagement worrying about a wedding, I simply thought about marriage. I mourned the loss of my singleness and I contemplated the full meaning and commitment of matrimony.
    Contemplation came easily, as the Bibbulmun Track was the most solitary trail I had ever hiked. Most Australians refuse to hike the footpath between December and February because of the one-hundred-degree heat. But after hiking through the southern California desert on the Pacific Crest Trail without any shade and very few water sources, the high temperatures on the Bibbulmun Track, which were often diffused by a forest canopy or ocean breeze, did not prove to be a problem for me.
    During one stretch along my journey, I went three full days without seeing another person. A few years before, and certainly before I started hiking, that level of solitude would have made me really uncomfortable—or it simply would have driven me crazy. But now, I embraced the isolation and I embraced the crazy.
    For three full days, I talked to animals instead of people.
    The kangaroos were not very good conversationalists. They hopped off before I could even finish a sentence. In my first few days on the trail, I was constantly startled by the sound of them bounding through the underbrush. They were stronger, taller, and much faster than I expected—not nearly as quaint and cute as they’d been in the books I read as a child. But because I saw between fifteen and thirty a day, I quickly grew accustomed to them.
    There were plenty of other critters. The emus reminded me of the ostriches that I had seen after climbing Kilimanjaro in Africa, but they were far more skittish. I usually spotted them near berry bushes, and as soon as they felt my presence, they panicked and sprinted off. The spiders in Australia were very large, but I actually preferred these giant arachnids to the smaller U.S. varieties because I could spot them from yards away, which kept me from hiking into so many webs. And then there were the lizards. They were so huge, colorful, and primitive that I was convinced I might also spot a dinosaur hiding in the forest.

    Most of the human interaction I had occurred when I would reach a town and could call Brew on a payphone. He knew that I could call at any time, most likely during the middle of the night, so he didn’t get very much sleep while I was on the Bibbulmun Track.
    Hiking to hear Brew’s voice encouraged me to hike longer days and higher miles. The reward for all my hard work was no longer reaching a warm shower or hot meal, but simply hearing my fiancé’s voice. We both valued our time apart and recognized its significance in our relationship, but at the same time, we hated it.

    One day toward the end of my hike when I reached the small town of Pemberton, I called Brew. It was late at night in the States, but I could tell his voice was weighed down with more than fatigue.
    â€œI’m worried about this summer,” he said.
    â€œAbout the A.T.?” I asked hesitantly, knowing the answer.
    In our brief planning session before my departure, we scheduled our wedding for June 8, right after Brew finished teaching and twelve days before I wanted to start the Appalachian Trail. I had told him on our first date that I was planning on a record attempt that summer, and I didn’t want to give it up, especially now that I had dedicated it to Meredith. But looking down, I noticed the shiny new ring on my finger, and I realized I would have to try something that I wasn’t very accustomed to—compromise.
    Brew