WHEN I first pitched the idea of kayaking along the Murray River to my mates they laughed at me.

I guess they had every right – I had no thought-out plans, no experience of the Murray and more importantly had never been in a kayak before. 

After six long months I can say that each of those factors has changed and now I am preparing for the trip of a lifetime. 

My trip’s aim is to raise money for the Aurora Early Intervention Centre – a kindergarten for deaf and deaf-blind children, assisting those children and their families.

While I had good intentions, I quickly realised I had no idea about what running a charity demanded.

Who would have considered that raising a bit of money could be so hard?

Surely a charity for rural deaf and deaf-blind children would fundraise itself? 

Not a chance.

There is an immense amount of work that goes into setting up a charity. 

There were countless emails, meetings and attempts to persuade people that I was seriously going to do the trip. 

It even took some time before the principal of Aurora got on board. 

People judged me on society’s norm. 

I was a skinny 19-year old, therefore too weak to make it physically, and too young to have the knowledge or resources. 

I did, however, have one trump card to their doubts. 

A mental state given to me by my parents that I could become anything I wanted.

I know that everyone’s parents are biased and say this, but mine meant it. 

They told me if I wanted something I could achieve it, and I believed them. 

Mum and dad provided any and every opportunity for me as I grew up. 

When my sister Cate was born profoundly deaf, they didn’t break stride. 

Cate has had every opportunity I had, and as for her ‘disability’, mum and dad have allowed it to become an opportunity for Cate to experience things most don’t – from weekly trips to Aurora when Cate was a toddler, to an interstate deaf conference earlier this year. 

From signing choirs, to AUSLAN interpreted musicals, Cate has experienced it all. 

However, to quote mum, ‘money doesn’t grow on trees’, and these experiences haven’t come cheaply. 

The cost of fuel for the weekly Aurora trips alone was enough to deter even the most committed parent, but these trips were needed. 

They were needed so that Cate could access a speech pathologist or a sign language teacher. 

They were needed so that when Cate wanted to become someone, her deafness was no excuse. 

Cate wasn’t raised as a ‘deaf child’, she was a normal kid who just happened to be deaf. 

If she wanted to achieve something, she believed she could.

The pride I have for my parents and how they had raised Cate and I made me think about those that had it a little bit harder than we did. 

Those families who lived a bit further from Aurora, so the fuel costs were more expensive, those families who had to work a second job to pay for the fuel, so they couldn’t spare time on a weekend to attend an AUSLAN class.

These little issues become a big loss for those families and those children. 

They become ‘deaf children’, not ‘children who are deaf’. 

When they want to achieve something, they don’t believe they can.

My trip has nothing to do with myself or my family. 

Sure, I will be lucky enough to achieve something no one else at my age has ever done. 

Sure, as my family travels with me we will see beautiful scenery, wildlife and people. 

But this trip is all about the rural families across Victoria who have it that little bit harder.

The money and awareness I raise will go to those families. 

So they can access Aurora via video conferencing. 

So they can be given a fuel card to travel to a deaf event. 

So they too can raise children who believe. 

Six months have been and gone, and so much time and effort has gone into this trip. 

On Monday I will start something that will change my life, but more importantly it will change someone else’s too.