I didn’t place a bet on the Melbourne Cup this year as I have never been a gambler. Or so I thought…….it got me thinking that every time I choose to venture out looking for that ultimate day out the Western Lakes, it really is a calculated risk. Not too dissimilar to putting your hard-earned on some thoroughbred running around a track being whipped by some midget with the voice of a 12-year-old. By this, I mean we all invest in a passion in some way or another hoping that some day we will be fortunate enough to reap the rewards.

We had looked at the forecast for the long weekend,  it was terrible. But there was a faint glimmer of hope that Monday might come good. Phil and I made the call to head west on the Sunday and set ourselves up for what was looking like a cracker the following day.

We trudged through foot deep snow and blizzard conditions with overnight packs and plenty of woolies for 4 hours before setting up camp. It was decided we would rest up for the arvo as the weather persisted only leaving our tents to gather water and make yellow snow cones.

At 4:45 the alarm sounded. The howling wind and tapping of snow on the tent fly had vanished and we were up immediately and packing our gear for the day. The only downside was that Phil needed to take his warm toes out of his toasty new sleeping bag and slide them into soaked boots from the previous day. Enthusiasm was quickly renewed once he saw what kind of day it was shaping up to be.

The day that followed was exactly what we were hoping for. We marched hard all day casting at many fish and even managing to fool a few in the process. As we stopped for lunch we conversed about how many people don’t ever achieve the level of happiness that we were experiencing at that moment. Life was perfect and for once things had fallen into place. We arrived back at the car by headlamp, with sore knees, wet boots and one hell of a grin.

So I guess we are all gamblers in one way or another, just this time it finally paid off.