There is a place we visit, where the grass is short, and the Trout are strong. We often just walk there with a camera. Sometimes we take the dogs. Mostly we just take ourselves.
It is a windswept place; stark and open.
Even the streams and dams are hard to find. When you look across the apparently flat landscape, it belies the folds and valleys that secret its lovely waters. Some of our friends spend a lot of time driving to find those folds and their Trout. We park and walk more.
It is cruel for its lack of shade in summer, and cruel for its cold in winter. There is little shelter when it storms. In summer you need to carry plenty of water. We have run dry before. In winter you will start out icy cold, but end up carrying too much clothing.
When we return, our skin is rough and dry, sometimes sunburned. Our socks are full of spiky grass seed, and our boots are often drenched in dew.
We are tired; and we are happy.