We were officially done with disasters. Then Bailey arrived.

Apparently, being dragged through genuinely dangerous areas isn’t enough, because Bailey has returned. 

If you’re new here: Bailey is my friend. She’s walked the length of Australia. She’s planning to do it again starting later this year. 

She’s been my support crew across two different legs of this trip, and somewhere along the way Wombat made the executive decision to keep her. 

Not adopt her, exactly. More like, absorb her into the pack. She belongs to us now. She doesn’t get a vote.

Just as well, because my actual sister asked if we’re confused for siblings because we seem on the same frequency. 

Naturally then, Wombat has in fact, complete faith in Bailey. Which is more than I can say for anyone who’s met the two of us together.. unless “faith” equates to  🎥 🍿.

The Bailey effect (it’s a thing)

Here’s what you need to understand about Bailey coming out on trail.

Every. Single. Time.

Things go spectacularly off-track.

I don’t mean mildly sideways. I mean the kind of off-track that becomes a story you’re still telling years later. I don’t know if it’s her energy, my energy, or just the universe recognising an opportunity. But the pattern is established, documented, and at this point, basically, a geological phenomenon.

But just like any other mange-ridden wilderness animal… I love her. 

So when she flew in to spend the final weeks of my year on trail with me, hiking north on the CDT until we hit Yellowstone National Park, then chaperoning me home for a special award announcement, I told myself: this time will be different. We are adults. We have a plan. The plan is simple.

We were officially done with disasters and just wanted to be regular people.

We are not regular people.

What regular(‑ish) looks like

To be fair, the beginning was lovely. Wombat was beside himself. Bailey had barely dropped her pack before he was campaigning aggressively for cuddles, access to her sleeping situation, and general preferential treatment. 

There’s something genuinely wonderful about having a friend join you on trail — especially one who gets it. 

Not just the physical side, though Bailey is no stranger to that (the length of Australia, is not a small thing). But the particular brand of stubborn optimism it takes to keep putting one foot in front of the other when everything hurts and the next town is very far away…

And a critical ingredient, that is by far the most understated and least talked about: we’re compatible. We like each other. We share the goals. Have a similar sense of humour. We compromise. We don’t neg each other out and… Bailey has a high EQ so she deals with conflict like she does a mosquito. 

We had a plan. Hike north. Reach Yellowstone. Enjoy the wilderness. Not have any disasters.

Simple. Clean. Extremely us-proof, we thought.

Famous last words

Let’s just say… plans don’t seem to suit us.

I won’t spoil it. Partly because the chaos is still unfolding, and partly because some things need to be witnessed in order to be believed. What I will say is this: I could feel it coming. That specific atmospheric pressure change that happens when Bailey and I are in the same place and the universe is rubbing its hands together.

Could be some moments of regret, I thought. Then immediately: I can’t believe I’ve got a friend walking with me again.

Both things true at once. 

More soon. Much more.

If you want to follow along properly — chaos incoming, Wombat fully on board, Yellowstone allegedly in the distance — join Entangled. It's my inner circle and it's where a genuine community lives. Or if you just want to shout me a warm-up-coffee or a self-pity-hot-chocolate to keep me moving: same link.

Lucy + Wombat 👩‍🌾🐶