"It is a continent of dreams we inhabit, a waiting continent. All who have set foot in its bush, its lonely places, know that silence. The continent is dreaming. We have felt it and been afraid...and retired to the outer rim."
So wrote David Ireland in his 1979 novel
A Woman of the Future. I came across this quote in an article by Geordie Williamson in the
Review section of the Weekend Australian last weekend, and while it was quoted in the context of an article about the death of Australian literature, it resonated quite strongly with me, having just returned to the east coast.
And if any of you has been watching the series on ABC called
Great Southern Land,and in particular the
episode Living on the Edge, you will immediately get the connection to the quote.
Population density at last census.
Most of our huge continent's people choose to live on the edge and in particular the east coast and south east. Having spent the last big chunk of our trip coming across the Top End, we had become used to the miles and miles of vast open space, dotted with civilization sporadically. And much of our trip has afforded us the pleasure of empty landscape, with echoes of the ancient and recent past. Just the opposite of what we know and how we live on the east. There is a different dreaming out there. We of the east have reinvented ourselves over and over again as we populate and creep out over old farmland and bushland to create new neighbourhoods and extend the boundaries of our sprawling cities. Ours is a newer dreaming. A different pace and mindset. (This is also happening in the west, we get the same feeling around Perth and much of the new, mining centred, communities that are changing the identity of many towns and regions.)
The photos above were retrieved from google images.
I've been trying to nut through just what it is I'm feeling about being back on the east coast. Conflicting feelings. At once the feeling of familiarity and the comfort that that brings, and then the feeling that we have left something behind; something ancient and connected to another time in our history. Being in those lonely places, that silence and that vastness brings a joyous freedom, a liberation from our suburban existence back home. Those sparsely populated square kilometres you cross fill you with something different. An elusive element. Something less weighty. You let go.
All of a sudden I'm struggling with proximity to so many bodies. More traffic, more speed (Bruce Highway I hate you!), more roads, more shops, more buildings, more telephone towers connecting more telephones. And more choices. More distractions that seem to me to lead us all into a more complacent way of thinking.
I guess it will take some time to adjust to it all. But I hope that this vast and dreaming continent has opened up a place inside me and sown some germ that can continue to grow in my imagination and effect my way of looking at the world.
Coming to Tin Can Bay to stay with Mum for a month was the perfect transition for Mike and I. Mum and Dad (Danny) bought this place many, many years ago as a winter retreat. Dad's love of fishing and the Bay's quiet no fuss community were what drew them to the area.
We unpacked the van and stored our gear in the boat-shed before sprawling ourselves in the luxurious and large space of Mum's place. We quickly adjusted to doing nothing. We gave the van a huge clean inside and out and then attacked doing nothing with a vengeance.
Tin Can Bay is a sleepy fishing town with long shallow sand flats that stretch way out into the bay at low tide. A terrific bike and walking track snakes along the foreshore making in a heaven for dog walkers and keep-fitters. Mike and I had been on a keep fit program walking up and down gorges, national parks and beaches for the past months so we felt no guilt in simply watching Tin Can Bay residents walking and cycling past our balcony each day. Mum's home is on the Esplanade with sweeping views of the bay - just magic. Our exercise consisted of walking from the bedroom to the bathroom to the kitchen to the balcony where we worked our eye muscles watching either the sun or the moon rising over the bay. Queensland mornings begin early and bright so we found ourselves awake early, but always followed by breakfast in bed, reading until a more respectable hour of rising around nine or ten. We managed a couple of short walks to the post office and IGA, and spent a lovely few hours wandering around the stalls at the Seafood Festival one Saturday morning. We even drove the five ks to Woolies a couple of times for supplies.
A grey morning in Tin Can Bay.
Sunrise over the Bay.
Low tide.
We really did unwind there and let ourselves come into the cave for a while. It felt good. We didn't realise how tired we were. That road is a relentless grind in many ways. A fantastic relentless grind.
While we were there Mum took a tour out west to Winton and Longreach with a bunch of travelling country musicians. She was away for eight days leaving the house to us. We spread out even more during those days and I read a huge science fiction novel called the Dreaming Void, book one of the Void Trilogy by Peter Harrison. I got lost in other galaxies until I surfaced to eat, shower or sleep and have the odd conversation with Mike. A timely book for me and fun to re-visit my first love ie the science fiction novel. I'm not sure what Mike was doing during those few days. I did notice him across the dinner table and oh! there he was beside me each night as I sat up with my head in my book. So I guess he was busy with his own wind-down process. Being in a 'house' was great as we didn't have to speak or be close to each other - it was nice to have a bit of space.
Three major highlights for us during the month were a visit to Noosa to have lunch and catch up with Cath and Mike, Mike's sister and brother-in-law, and a trip to Brisbane by Mum, Mike and I to see Bangarra perform the final leg of their national tour season. We stayed with Jas in her apartment and spent the day with my brother Lance, his wife Vatika and their daughter Meira (up for the day and the show from Byron Bay - an entry from our Byron sojourn to follow in due course). It has been a real treat to see our siblings and their families and so great to spend some time with Jasmin in her busy dancing schedule. The final highlight was a visit from my dear friend Christine and her husband Terry, who came up to spend the day with us from Brisbane. It happened to be the rugby grand final day, so, as Chris and Terry were barracking for the Melbourne Storm in the absence of their team playing (Broncos of course!) we settled into a full on grand final day with nibbles banquet, beer and good craic.
Mum and I with the Byron crew.
Mum, Jas and I.
Me with my dear friend Chris.
Chris and Terry,
There's my girl.
I will conclude this entry by mentioning how amazing my Mum, Merle, is. She won't let me tell anyone how old she is, so I'll just say that she stopped counting her birthdays when she hit 75, and that was about five years ago. Mum arrived home from the tour totally exhausted but full of a great time had by all. My Mum is a constant inspiration to me. She is full of energy, vitality, laughter and generosity. She is also a great cook, looks amazing and runs rings around me in many ways. We had a great time with her and I'm glad that she and Mike are such good mates too. We left three days before she packed up her winter house and headed south once more.
Thanks Mum for a restful much needed break from the road. (Hope you're ready for another month of us when we get back to Melbourne - until our house is ready for us to go back to.)
Now it's off to Tewantin (near Noosa) to stay with Mike's cousin, Brendan, and his lovely wife, Joy. We love Noosa and the hinterland, so we are looking forward to trucking around some old familiar haunts and enjoying the area.
