Send back the search parties
Turn off the beacons
End this odyssey for reasons why
There are no answers out here
No epiphany will take place
There's bitumen and miles
Long sought for moments aside
No rescue required
Saturday, 31 March 2012
Thursday, 29 March 2012
Peaks and Troughs
No sun without shade...
Wherever I stand with arms outstretched to greet the new day, I stand in my own shoes; on my own worn road; embodying my own bent for freedom and joy; mirrored by my own shadows that hitch a ride like stones between my toes, reminding me to shake out the grit of my pain. Reminding me also that yesterday and tomorrow are illusions and today, this moment alone, is my true place to live.
Physical pain wears me down into the trough. Images of my quiet, secluded and safe home space appear like mirages on the horizon of my consciousness, trying to persuade me that over there, back into my memory or forward into my imagined pain-free tomorrow, lies my hope - until the grimy bottom of this valley spreads across my awareness and bids me come sit in the pain and be mindful; focus; pay attention to this moment...
Then a new day comes, and I can see the view again from a different vantage point...a new peak.
I recall a poem I wrote a few years ago:
Wherever I stand with arms outstretched to greet the new day, I stand in my own shoes; on my own worn road; embodying my own bent for freedom and joy; mirrored by my own shadows that hitch a ride like stones between my toes, reminding me to shake out the grit of my pain. Reminding me also that yesterday and tomorrow are illusions and today, this moment alone, is my true place to live.
Physical pain wears me down into the trough. Images of my quiet, secluded and safe home space appear like mirages on the horizon of my consciousness, trying to persuade me that over there, back into my memory or forward into my imagined pain-free tomorrow, lies my hope - until the grimy bottom of this valley spreads across my awareness and bids me come sit in the pain and be mindful; focus; pay attention to this moment...
Then a new day comes, and I can see the view again from a different vantage point...a new peak.
I recall a poem I wrote a few years ago:
Promise
always the promise of new
like birdsong or morning
what mystery the unknown
a distant white puff
can rain or shade the day
either way life comes
in whispers or crow caws
like a prayer call to hope
softly on the doorstep
take off shoes
wrap the heart woven head scarf
pause a moment
bend thoughts and memories
soul's knees find the floor
and wonder bows with me
breath in, breath out
balanced between
days gone, days to come
Thanks to Vatika and Susan who remind me to stop and 'sit' and just be...
Wednesday, 21 March 2012
Innes National Park, Yorke Peninsula
After the arid terrain of the Flinders Ranges we made our way south once more, this time down the east coast of the Yorke Peninsula. During settlement the Yorke Peninsula was heavily cleared. It consists largely of great expanses of barley fields stretching in all directions no matter where you are on the map.
We were headed to the Innes National Park at the very southern toe, and planned a couple of days in the camp ground at Pondalowie Bay.
Thankfully in the early seventies this area was declared a NP and has become a haven of coastal habitat for what had been a diminishing population of fauna on the Peninsula.
What a contrast this coastal tip was to the ranges up north. For two and a half days we explored the many walks and toured around bays, capes, lighthouses and we visited an old historic gypsum company township that flourished here in the 1800s - early 1900s (managed by a Stan Innes).
Time seemed to stand still for us while in the Park - the spectacular scenery, prolific wildlife (kangaroos, emus and bird life) thrilled us; the strong winds on West Cape blew off the southern ocean and nearly threw us off the cliff. We loved the wildness of it, and the fact that at times we were the only human life in eye or ear shot.
Can enveloping oneself in the wild landscape be medicine for the soul? I believe so, and for me, these are the kind of experiences that I am searching for.
However, as Michael has said, we came out of the wilds in search of food - so we went hunter-gathering at Woolworths in Port Pirie (they have a great range of gluten free foods - essential for me).
After stocking up on supplies we headed to a lovely town just a short drive north of Port Pirie, called Port Germaine. We ended our sojourn on the eastern side of the Spencer Gulf by walking along the 1.5km wooden jetty (longest in Australia) at sunset. It was like a magical walk out into the sea as the sunset gave way to a starry night, a mild breeze blowing as we headed back to our cosy camp.
Now we're off to Tumby Bay on the Eyre Peninsula, then around to Coffin Bay for a nice long stay.
We were headed to the Innes National Park at the very southern toe, and planned a couple of days in the camp ground at Pondalowie Bay.
Thankfully in the early seventies this area was declared a NP and has become a haven of coastal habitat for what had been a diminishing population of fauna on the Peninsula.
What a contrast this coastal tip was to the ranges up north. For two and a half days we explored the many walks and toured around bays, capes, lighthouses and we visited an old historic gypsum company township that flourished here in the 1800s - early 1900s (managed by a Stan Innes).
Time seemed to stand still for us while in the Park - the spectacular scenery, prolific wildlife (kangaroos, emus and bird life) thrilled us; the strong winds on West Cape blew off the southern ocean and nearly threw us off the cliff. We loved the wildness of it, and the fact that at times we were the only human life in eye or ear shot.
Can enveloping oneself in the wild landscape be medicine for the soul? I believe so, and for me, these are the kind of experiences that I am searching for.
However, as Michael has said, we came out of the wilds in search of food - so we went hunter-gathering at Woolworths in Port Pirie (they have a great range of gluten free foods - essential for me).
After stocking up on supplies we headed to a lovely town just a short drive north of Port Pirie, called Port Germaine. We ended our sojourn on the eastern side of the Spencer Gulf by walking along the 1.5km wooden jetty (longest in Australia) at sunset. It was like a magical walk out into the sea as the sunset gave way to a starry night, a mild breeze blowing as we headed back to our cosy camp.
Now we're off to Tumby Bay on the Eyre Peninsula, then around to Coffin Bay for a nice long stay.
Yes, that is a beard!
Pondalowie Bay
Pondalowie Bay
West Cape
Camp ground - Pondalowie Bay
Stenhouse Bay
Tuesday, 20 March 2012
From somewhere on the Yorke Peninsula
Since we left Adelaide, which seems more than a week ago, Alana and I have darkened the door step of the great Australian outback at a town (and I use the term liberally) called Lyndhurst; flew over Lake Eyre, and a detour on the way back at a town called Maree; had the Flinders Ranges for company on our right shoulder on the way up; crossed wild flood ways over the bitumen on our way back down to Rawnsley Station, which is near Wilpena Pound; did a fair bit of hunter/gathering at Woolworths in Port Pirie a few times; stayed overnight at this place on the coast of the Yorke Peninsula for no other reason than, that we liked the name, COOBOWIE; roughed it in the Innes National Park for a day or three before ending up at this little " byroads " town on the way back up the peninsula called Minlaton. Where exactly is Minlaton you might ask, well it seems even in the town no one knows. They have the towns name printed as a signpost on those souvenir tee shirts, that says Minlaton: where the hell is it!.
One of the many highlights of last week was the drive up along the foot hills of the Flinders Ranges to Lyndhurst, the overnight stay and the flight the next day.
The bituman ends at Lyndhurst, pretty much outside the Lyndhurst Hotel/Motel/Caravan Park/petrol station/flight booking centre/tyre repairs, etc (you get the general picture).
The Caravan park, and I'm sure that I'm not going out on a limb here; is the most unique one you are ever likely to find, well worth the trip up here alone to experience it. 4 powered sights, that's it, 3 patches of carefully laboured and maintained grass to pitch a tent on, corrugated boundary fence line, crushed pebble rock surface dominated the ground on which to park your van. A pre-fab toilet and laundry block, under lock (probably for your own protection judging by the appearance). Old rusted bins full to the brim, conveniently located for you to squeeze your rubbish in. Showers in the main Hotel going for $3.00 a pop. All this for $15.00 a night. Bargain!
Most of the action takes place outside the pub on the verandah, where all the truckies gathered. There had been some flooding seeping it's way down from further up the line and as such there were about 10 b-doubles waiting for the dirt road out of town to firm up a bit.
No beer on tap in this pub. The barmaid flicks the ring off a can with a nice smile and tells you to get the lemon, lime and bitters from the soft drink fridge which is located next to the ice cream cabinet.
After a couple of drinks Alana and I settled in for the night across from the pub which was only a quick smart comment coming from the verandah away. We had the Caravan park to ourselves that night (and the mozzies). We cooked our steaks and faced the table towards the sunset. Magic!
Early next morning we packed the van up and waited for our pilot to arrive. There was five of us ready for the flight. I chose to sit in the front next to the pilot. Her name was Jane; as she arrived to pick us up for the flight she went into the pub to check the bookings. One of the truckies hollers, "she's just gone in for a couple of quick rums, she wont be long."
Soon enough we were airborne in the little six-seater Cessna for about two hours with a little stop over at the pub in Maree on the way back. It's no stretch to the imagination to see the landscape below and look at it as a canvas with the most amazing patterns painted across it. There is a certain beauty to it's starkness. I was mesmerised by all the patterns that I could see. We followed the water ways and vegetation till we reached the southern part of Lake Eyre. As we flew over the water below was pink. In the distance the water was blue grey, the colour of the horizon and sky, with the faintest strip of land separating the two.
We touched back down at Lyndhurst, Jane the pilot gave us a landing that we all wont forget in a hurry. Alana and I jumped into our van and headed back down the way we came, this time with those impressive Flinders Ranges on our left.
One of the many highlights of last week was the drive up along the foot hills of the Flinders Ranges to Lyndhurst, the overnight stay and the flight the next day.
The bituman ends at Lyndhurst, pretty much outside the Lyndhurst Hotel/Motel/Caravan Park/petrol station/flight booking centre/tyre repairs, etc (you get the general picture).
The Caravan park, and I'm sure that I'm not going out on a limb here; is the most unique one you are ever likely to find, well worth the trip up here alone to experience it. 4 powered sights, that's it, 3 patches of carefully laboured and maintained grass to pitch a tent on, corrugated boundary fence line, crushed pebble rock surface dominated the ground on which to park your van. A pre-fab toilet and laundry block, under lock (probably for your own protection judging by the appearance). Old rusted bins full to the brim, conveniently located for you to squeeze your rubbish in. Showers in the main Hotel going for $3.00 a pop. All this for $15.00 a night. Bargain!
Most of the action takes place outside the pub on the verandah, where all the truckies gathered. There had been some flooding seeping it's way down from further up the line and as such there were about 10 b-doubles waiting for the dirt road out of town to firm up a bit.
No beer on tap in this pub. The barmaid flicks the ring off a can with a nice smile and tells you to get the lemon, lime and bitters from the soft drink fridge which is located next to the ice cream cabinet.
After a couple of drinks Alana and I settled in for the night across from the pub which was only a quick smart comment coming from the verandah away. We had the Caravan park to ourselves that night (and the mozzies). We cooked our steaks and faced the table towards the sunset. Magic!
Early next morning we packed the van up and waited for our pilot to arrive. There was five of us ready for the flight. I chose to sit in the front next to the pilot. Her name was Jane; as she arrived to pick us up for the flight she went into the pub to check the bookings. One of the truckies hollers, "she's just gone in for a couple of quick rums, she wont be long."
Soon enough we were airborne in the little six-seater Cessna for about two hours with a little stop over at the pub in Maree on the way back. It's no stretch to the imagination to see the landscape below and look at it as a canvas with the most amazing patterns painted across it. There is a certain beauty to it's starkness. I was mesmerised by all the patterns that I could see. We followed the water ways and vegetation till we reached the southern part of Lake Eyre. As we flew over the water below was pink. In the distance the water was blue grey, the colour of the horizon and sky, with the faintest strip of land separating the two.
We touched back down at Lyndhurst, Jane the pilot gave us a landing that we all wont forget in a hurry. Alana and I jumped into our van and headed back down the way we came, this time with those impressive Flinders Ranges on our left.
Sunset dinner at Lyndhurst
Lyndhurst Hotel/Motel/Caravan Park/petrol station/flight booking centre/tyre repairs etc.
Mike in (control) the cockpit!
Saturday, 3 March 2012
Wairoa Community - Adelaide Hills
We are presently staying on the thirteen hectare property known as Wairoa in the beautiful Adelaide Hills in between the towns of Stirling and Aldgate. The history of this property stretches back to the 1800s. More recent history states that:
"Between 1972 and 2004, Wairoa served as the campus for a small independent progressive school, Marbury. Over those years hundreds of children and adults enjoyed Wairoa and many continue to have a special attachment to the place.
In 2007, the original thirteen hectare property was community titled. Now the property is owned and occupied by a group of families who continue to care for the old house and garden."
We are staying with friends, Sophie and Tim and their three children. I first met Sophie over 23 years ago; a beautiful woman and both she and Tim are my treasured friends. Tim's mother and father began the Marbury Independent Progressive School here on the property which began in 1972 and finally closed in 2004.
You cannot spend time on this old property without feeling that you have somehow stepped back in time. Surrounded by old stone buildings and old gardens, with large areas of aged forest.
A creative and artistic community is blooming here at Wairoa. Sophie has begun the Delight of Being Centre which draws together members of the local arts community who hold classes in the 'Barn' and where artists use studio space to create.
While we are here we will attend writer's group, mosaic class and whatever else fits in with our schedule.
We have yet to see the cultural highlights of the city of Adelaide. I am looking forward to checking out the Art Gallery of SA, the University of SA's Museum of Art, and the Botanic Gardens.
"Between 1972 and 2004, Wairoa served as the campus for a small independent progressive school, Marbury. Over those years hundreds of children and adults enjoyed Wairoa and many continue to have a special attachment to the place.
In 2007, the original thirteen hectare property was community titled. Now the property is owned and occupied by a group of families who continue to care for the old house and garden."
We are staying with friends, Sophie and Tim and their three children. I first met Sophie over 23 years ago; a beautiful woman and both she and Tim are my treasured friends. Tim's mother and father began the Marbury Independent Progressive School here on the property which began in 1972 and finally closed in 2004.
You cannot spend time on this old property without feeling that you have somehow stepped back in time. Surrounded by old stone buildings and old gardens, with large areas of aged forest.
A creative and artistic community is blooming here at Wairoa. Sophie has begun the Delight of Being Centre which draws together members of the local arts community who hold classes in the 'Barn' and where artists use studio space to create.
While we are here we will attend writer's group, mosaic class and whatever else fits in with our schedule.
We have yet to see the cultural highlights of the city of Adelaide. I am looking forward to checking out the Art Gallery of SA, the University of SA's Museum of Art, and the Botanic Gardens.
Tuesday, 28 February 2012
Serene seas, imposing boulders and rogue waves
"What is it about the sea?" Mike mused as we made our way around the granite point at Port Elliot, passed giant boulders that pile themselves up the cliff and spill down into the water. We stood on the granite outcrop in the presence of 'rock' (anyone whose been to Hanging Rock knows what I mean by presence).
It is similar to the feeling I get when standing alone in a copse of very large and regal trees; a feeling of other-worldliness; of elemental beings riding the sap as it rises. However, tree energy is gentle; less imposing than these giant granite stones.
The image and sound of water crashing against rock takes us up past our thoughts into musings and contemplation. "It is the primordial echo of the deep - the sludge and mud of our origins that speaks to our ancient sub-cortex." My answer to Mike's musings. He looks at me sideways. Such an Alana response.
The sea is a glorious and terrifying power and my timid nature has never understood it well enough to venture far from shore. I love the quiet bay near my home in Frankston, just ten minutes walk from my front door. I love that I can walk into the sea there without fear. I can swim and frolick and enjoy her benevolence knowing she won't spit me out of a rogue wave onto a gravelly shore.
It is no surprise to me that I would experience my first dumping on the seemingly quiet and friendly beach at Port Elliot in Horseshoe Bay. The weather soared close to 40 for a few days and the heat drove me into the water. Mike and I had been jumping waves and cooling off for two days and I was enjoying the relief and fun we were having. This day I had followed Mike in past the shore-breakers (I can't see very far without my glasses) into what I thought was deeper and calmer water. Port Elliot is renowned for its regular but relatively harmless shore-breakers. I turned around and coming toward me was a rogue wave which tailed a larger than usual set. I jumped the wave and knew at that moment that I should have gone under it. What followed I could embellish by saying my life flashed before me, but that didn't happen. What happened was closer to the image of washing going round in a front loader. I was tumbled and tumbled and ground around the sand and not knowing this experience before, I was terrified as I could not find my footing and just had to wait to be spat out in the foam. When I finally surfaced Mike was grinning and washing the water from his eyes saying " boy, that was a bit of fun", not realising I had just been put in my place by the sea. I stood shaking, gasping for breath and in shock, with sand caked in my hair, ears and private bits. It took all of an hour for Mike to coax me back in.
The following day was much cooler and I was happy just to sit on the grassy bank and watch others eat sand.
It is similar to the feeling I get when standing alone in a copse of very large and regal trees; a feeling of other-worldliness; of elemental beings riding the sap as it rises. However, tree energy is gentle; less imposing than these giant granite stones.
The image and sound of water crashing against rock takes us up past our thoughts into musings and contemplation. "It is the primordial echo of the deep - the sludge and mud of our origins that speaks to our ancient sub-cortex." My answer to Mike's musings. He looks at me sideways. Such an Alana response.
The sea is a glorious and terrifying power and my timid nature has never understood it well enough to venture far from shore. I love the quiet bay near my home in Frankston, just ten minutes walk from my front door. I love that I can walk into the sea there without fear. I can swim and frolick and enjoy her benevolence knowing she won't spit me out of a rogue wave onto a gravelly shore.
It is no surprise to me that I would experience my first dumping on the seemingly quiet and friendly beach at Port Elliot in Horseshoe Bay. The weather soared close to 40 for a few days and the heat drove me into the water. Mike and I had been jumping waves and cooling off for two days and I was enjoying the relief and fun we were having. This day I had followed Mike in past the shore-breakers (I can't see very far without my glasses) into what I thought was deeper and calmer water. Port Elliot is renowned for its regular but relatively harmless shore-breakers. I turned around and coming toward me was a rogue wave which tailed a larger than usual set. I jumped the wave and knew at that moment that I should have gone under it. What followed I could embellish by saying my life flashed before me, but that didn't happen. What happened was closer to the image of washing going round in a front loader. I was tumbled and tumbled and ground around the sand and not knowing this experience before, I was terrified as I could not find my footing and just had to wait to be spat out in the foam. When I finally surfaced Mike was grinning and washing the water from his eyes saying " boy, that was a bit of fun", not realising I had just been put in my place by the sea. I stood shaking, gasping for breath and in shock, with sand caked in my hair, ears and private bits. It took all of an hour for Mike to coax me back in.
The following day was much cooler and I was happy just to sit on the grassy bank and watch others eat sand.
HOTEL ELLIOT - PORT ELLIOT
What makes a Pub a good one!.
Well it could be how it looks, the feel about the place,the staff, the patrons, maybe even the location. It also could be none of the above, so long as the beer is cold and someone is behind the bar ready to pour you one.
I liked this particular pub because I passed it everyday walking into town with Alana to do the daily shop. The pub wasn't on the main street which made it seem all the more rewarding.We would always stop in for "the one" before returning back to camp.
The look of the pub from the outside was quite appealing to me as it had this slight art deco look. I liked the big picture framed windows in the front bar, they were open and inviting. You could sit at them and read the papers with your nose hanging over the footpath, ready to ambush some passerby with a quick hello or a smile while having a cold frosty.
Thursday, 23 February 2012
Coorong: From the Ngarrindjeri word kurangh, meaning 'long neck'.
As Mike said, we are dug in here at Port Elliot for a few days before we head off to Victor Harbour. I just wanted to talk a little about my cruise on the Coorong last Sunday. Mike decided not to join me and instead he took the bike around Goolwa and went in search of the surf beach. That's one of the differences between Mike and I, I love the calm waters and seek out the bird life, and Mike prefers the surf coast with crashing waves and he's always on the look out for a beach that is friendly enough for him and his body board.
So off I go on the Spirit of the Coorong cruise with various other folk of all shapes and sizes. I took a seat up on the top deck at the front and had the best viewing spot all day. The cruise went for 6 hours, and it was 6 blissful hours of bird watching and cruising through this remarkable part of the world. I loved it so much. After going to the mouth of the Murray we proceeded down the Coorong doing a couple of stop offs on the way; first a walk across the peninsula to the surf beach known for its cockles, then the second stop was at a spot called Cattle Point where we walked up some dunes and went to check out some ancient middens that belonged to the Ngarrindjeri People who lived on the Younghusband Peninsula before white fellas came and stuck their cattle on their land and pushed them off to Point McLeay which was the first Aboriginal mission in Australia. The Ngarrindjeri lived in an 'environment rich with animals, plants and aquatic resources which meant that they were less nomadic than Aborigines of the mainland'. I loved being on the water; it reminded me of many many summer holidays as a child spent on Tamboon inlet way before it was Croajingolong National Park. My step father, Danny, had a little holiday shack across the lake and the only way there was by boat. I remember setting off at the landing and taking that trip across the water, away from people and away from our known lives into the magic of Tamboon. We would play on the huge sand dunes and walk for ages along the ocean beach, catch fish with Dad and go prawning. It all came flooding back to me.
That settles it, we're going to Tamboon before we go home!!!
So off I go on the Spirit of the Coorong cruise with various other folk of all shapes and sizes. I took a seat up on the top deck at the front and had the best viewing spot all day. The cruise went for 6 hours, and it was 6 blissful hours of bird watching and cruising through this remarkable part of the world. I loved it so much. After going to the mouth of the Murray we proceeded down the Coorong doing a couple of stop offs on the way; first a walk across the peninsula to the surf beach known for its cockles, then the second stop was at a spot called Cattle Point where we walked up some dunes and went to check out some ancient middens that belonged to the Ngarrindjeri People who lived on the Younghusband Peninsula before white fellas came and stuck their cattle on their land and pushed them off to Point McLeay which was the first Aboriginal mission in Australia. The Ngarrindjeri lived in an 'environment rich with animals, plants and aquatic resources which meant that they were less nomadic than Aborigines of the mainland'. I loved being on the water; it reminded me of many many summer holidays as a child spent on Tamboon inlet way before it was Croajingolong National Park. My step father, Danny, had a little holiday shack across the lake and the only way there was by boat. I remember setting off at the landing and taking that trip across the water, away from people and away from our known lives into the magic of Tamboon. We would play on the huge sand dunes and walk for ages along the ocean beach, catch fish with Dad and go prawning. It all came flooding back to me.
That settles it, we're going to Tamboon before we go home!!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)