A crisp, clear morning greeted us as we set out in convoy, leaving the everyday behind and heading deep into Brindabella National Park. There’s something about that first stretch of dirt road—the shift from bitumen to bush—that signals a different pace, a different posture. You begin to notice more. The air feels sharper. The noise of life fades.
Our destination was McIntyres Hut, but as with most Trail Chapel adventures, the journey itself held just as much meaning as the destination.
The track didn’t disappoint. Steep, rocky climbs had us dropping into low range, carefully picking our lines, fully engaged in the adventure. Each obstacle a small reminder that progress often comes one steady step at a time. Around us, towering gum trees stretched skyward like pillars in a vast, natural cathedral. It was hard not to feel a sense of reverence in a place like that.
There were 11 of us on the trail—each bringing our own stories, perspectives, and reasons for being there. Between the hum of engines and the crackle of UHF radios, there was a shared sense of camaraderie. These moments, simple as they seem, are often where connection runs deepest.
We eventually pulled up and gathered around for a fire-lit lunch. Boots in the dust, hands wrapped around a warm meal, conversations flowed easily. There’s something about sitting around a fire in the bush that strips things back. No pretence. No rush. Just presence.
As always, we took time to pause and turn our attention to the Word. Our reflection centred on Psalm 25:4–5:
“Show me the right path, O Lord;
point out the road for me to follow.
Lead me by your truth and teach me,
for you are the God who saves me.”
Out there, surrounded by Creation and quite literally navigating unknown tracks, those words carried a different weight. It’s one thing to read about being shown the right path—it’s another to feel the need for guidance in a place where the road isn’t always obvious.
The parallels weren’t lost on us.
Life, much like the trail, isn’t always smooth or straightforward. There are steep climbs, uncertain turns, and moments where we need to slow right down and be intentional about the direction we’re heading. And just like we rely on maps, radios, and each other out on the tracks, we’re reminded that we’re not meant to navigate life alone either.
God doesn’t just point out the road from a distance—He leads, teaches, and walks with us in it.
By the time we packed up and began the journey home, there was a quiet sense of renewal among the group. Not just from a great day of driving, but from something deeper. Space had been made—to reflect, to connect, and to be reminded of what really matters.
