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HUMOUR
                         A HIKER’S GUIDE



                            TO BARTERING



























                                                     BY JAMES CLARKE

          bumped into an old friend the     Thus I found myself with a hiking group   St Christopher, I think, who said, “Show
          other day whom I had last seen    near the Golden Gate walking in valleys   me a man crying in the wilderness and
          y
       I ears ago at a formal dinner of the   crisp with frost. We slept the first night   I will show you a hiker who's forgotten
        Johannesburg Hiking Club. I had, at   in a spartan 10-bunk hut that reminded   the booze.”)
        the time, just had a book published –   me of a Siberian forced labour camp –
        Survival in the Outdoors which had an   especially in the frigid half-light of dawn   In fact I really had forgotten to bring
        ‘errata’ note glued onto the title page to   with all the balaclavaed heads sticking   something serious in the way of anti-
        make sure it would not fall out before the   out of sleeping bags.      freeze to drink around the campfire.
        reader saw it.                                                          But I soon discovered that, among
                                            They had laughed at my old-fashioned   hikers, four squares of chocolate are
        The errata had advised readers to ignore   backpack saying it was not for grown-  worth one tot of whisky. So are eight
        my advice on page 45 which explained   ups and one of them said I was carrying   jelly babies, although a black jelly baby
        how to follow the compass point while   far too much for a two-day hike. They   counts as two. And after a tough walk
        travelling north from South Africa. I   persuaded me to leave behind several   I find hikers crave things for which
        advised them to travel 20 degrees west   items including my monogrammed   4-year-olds throw tantrums in
        of true north whereas I had meant to   serviette ring, my CD player and a   supermarkets. It made me realise
        write “travel 20 degrees east of true   small generator. I was restricted to   that had I indeed been incarcerated
        north” A hiking party heading say, for   carrying minimum rations – six chicken   in Siberia, I am the sort whose
        central Zimbabwe, would end up lost   drumsticks, six pork chops, a steak,   indomitable and enterprising spirit
        in the Kalahari and having to eat each   potatoes, onions, chocolate, jelly babies,   would have enabled him to barter things
        other, if they followed my advice.  nuts and raisins.                   and so secretly build a turbo-assisted
                                                                                Snowmobile, with power-steering and
        It was a memorable evening because   Hikers generally share nothing because,   stereo, and escape to St Tropez.
        hikers are an educated and interesting   as somebody explained, “What if the
        bunch and when formally dressed     person who was to have brought the   A problem when hiking is that one
        are often indistinguishable from    drinks or the fire-lighters doesn’t pitch?   often meets up with Germans named
        normal people. With a brilliant touch of   We rely on nobody but ourselves.” (It was   Schultz, Wolfgang, Ingrid and Brunhilde.
        originality, the pre-prandial drinks were                               Not that I dislike Germans – quite the
        served against a background of recorded                                 contrary. The problem is they hike with
        bushveld sounds.                                                        far too much enthusiasm.

        I recall a Free State hike in which I took                                They stride ahead and then wait,
        part just after I became my own boss                                      patiently enough, for you to catch
        after years as a newspaperman. I                                          up sobbing for breath and coughing
        was fretting because my spellcheck                                        blood. And they say, jovially, “Ha! You
        was down and I was writing a book                                         made it, ja?”
        with some long words. I needed a
        break so I said to new boss,                                            Then, refreshed as they are by
        “I've worked for a whole week, Sir,                                     schnapps and crappenworst, they
        and I now need to get away to self-                                     immediately stride on expecting you to
        actualise.” “Try the Free State,” he said.                              follow when all you can do is lie face
        “You are too kind,” I said.                                             down in the grass sniffling and groaning.
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