Barefoot in bathers

I headed to Henley beach for a swim yesterday. If there is a specific place I call home, it is there. I parked my little red hire car in a row of hundreds of others, walked down a short, sandy path and dropped my towel, hat, clothes and car keys on the beach. As the sun spread silvery rays onto the calm sea, through some rare dark and stormy clouds, I dived into the cool water at the end of a 40C day.

As I floated about, relishing the moment, I looked back at the houses on the other side of the road. In my mother’s childhood, there was no road and this was a sandhill where her mother told her to watch out for strange men who camped in the sandhills. In my childhood it was a place you could rent a cheap house. Now it is millionaire’s row but still many of the old, stone and brick houses remain. If I had enough money I would buy one of them because it is still a wonderful place.

There is not much need for a towel on such an evening; Adelaide air being so totally dry. I donned my ancient beach shift (a word we never hear these days!) and went for a walk. Families dotted the beach and the shallows. Children pushed little trucks along the sand, others had buckets and spades. Lads of all ages threw or hit or kicked balls of all sizes and shapes in games whose rules were defined by lines drawn by toes, in the sand. I had to walk through a game whose boundaries clearly included the first 50m of the sea as well. Many languages were being spoken, many skin colours shone and I was so happy to be amongst them all because that is Adelaide; full of the richness of diversity, all seeming to co-exist happily, as it should be. I saw only one person on a phone.

As I walked along in the shallows, the main sound was the lapping of the sea on the shore. Dogs trotted happily along with their owners, some on leads, some enjoying a moment of freedom to splash in the water. There were no boat engines, no radios, not much sound besides the sea, laughter and quiet chatter. A couple of sailing boats drifted slowly by in the very light breeze.

I think that the peaceful diversity of Adelaide’s 1.5 million people is due in part to a climate that brings everyone together on the very long beach. There, it matters not how powerful you are, how rich you are, how old or young you are or where you were born. Everyone feels good at the beach at the end of a very hot day. Fashion is definitely absent in the heat and everyone looks pretty much the same when they are lazing about in the water or sitting barefoot in their bathers on the beach!

All along the coastline of Adelaide you can still get a park right by the sea, still find a large space in which to plop your towel and still not have to worry when you leave your keys and purse under your hat. You can get fish and chips or a coffee at Henley Square, where a grassy piazza stretches along the beach front and huge shade sails provide a place for people to wait, in sandy feet, messy hair and wet bathers for their chips to be ready. I am taking my mother there for her birthday and together with a brother and a son or two, we will have fish and chips. She lives not far away and loves Henley Beach too.

My hire care always needs to be well vacuumed at the end of my stay in Adelaide!

The shack dimension

I think any minute I will see a goanna walk, in that prehistoric gait they have, past my window as I sit and absorb nearly 5 years’ worth of peace. The sand hill which nestles the shack is dry, sporting tufts of grey shrubbery, a few escaped succulents and lots of sand. This morning I cleared the sparse, prickly, dead weeds from the front where I like to sit and watch the sea. I came across a hole large enough not to be a snake hole; fresh, white sand having been cleared from its entrance quite recently. I am looking forward to seeing the occupant as, over the years, several individual, prehistoric creatures have wandered slowly past this window making me feel even more that the shack is in a different dimension than the rest of the world.

The longer you have been away from the shack, the stronger is its effect. You can leave home with your head full but arrival at the shack empties it. The first morning here begins your transformation to a new dimension where your whole, “real” life no longer exists and is replaced with space, which refuses to be filled. Time almost stands still; days become long and languid, ruled by nothing and filled simply with the light and sounds of the sea.

Any others you may encounter have been similarly transformed. Children and dogs frolic with cricket balls, sand castles, little boats and beach towels. Parents cease to fret and, instead, enjoy fun, laughter and relaxation. Even testy teenagers are happy!

At the kiosk, the only shop for 20 kms, the shop keepers smile and chat, fill lolly bags, talk about fishing and are happy to see you back for the holidays. Outside, the wall is lined with kids’ bikes and at the door sit dogs, waiting patiently. Here, children ride their bikes in groups of mixed ages and there is not a smart phone or head phone to be seen anywhere. Fashion is not in this dimension either; everyone has bare feet or thongs, an old hat and a t-shirt over bathers.

In the last 5 years, since I have been in Tasmania, McMansions have sprung up here but those people are either inside with their technology, out fishing in their McMassive boats(as evidenced by the increase in Four wheel drives and empty trailers lining the streets near the boat ramp)  or have similarly been transformed into the shack dimension and blend with the rest of us.

Day one of waking in the shack dimension often ends without even walking the few steps to the beach. After so much yearning for a swim in warm water, a paddle on my board and a long walk on the beach, unbounded by coves or cliffs, it may seem odd but such is the transition. I don’t have to do anything and for a couple of days I don’t. I sit and watch, I read, I sleep, I look out for the goanna and I feel wonderful.

Life is good. I am there and taking it slow.

A Storm to Send Shudders Down Your Spine

We had spent a glorious hour swimming and lazing in the sun at Little Roaring Beach before it was time for me to pack the car and head home. As we said goodbye, David commented that it smelled like rain and we could see the clouds coming across. We both noticed that, despite it being 2 o’clock in the afternoon, the sky was so black over the mountains that a distant bushfire glowed a brilliant red as if it were night time.

As I drove off a couple of spots dotted the windscreen but I was happy and feeling carefree after a wonderful weekend, thinking it would be nice to have some rain for our dry gardens.

The drive out of Dover is quite English, with pretty gardens giving way to green fields and rolling hills. From a still mostly sunny vantage point I could see a band of heavy rain moving fast across the valley I was coming up to and felt a frisson of worry at the speed of its passage. Oddly, as I drove down the slope, I could see debris on the road ahead and thought a trailer must have lost some mulch. However, only seconds later, I looked toward the sea and understood what was happening.

It still makes me shudder to think of the next hour. The glimpse I had through the trees, of the sea ahead and to my right was like nothing I had ever seen before; it had literally been picked up and thrown forward by winds later described on the news as a violent storm (103 – 117km/h). I thought at the time that I would stop at the next vantage point and take a photo but moments later the storm hit me, together with the torrential rain and the debris from the trees lining the road.

The forest bent to almost touch the road and I was terrified of branches falling from the gum trees and killing me. Cars approached from the other direction, all of us creeping along, trying to see through the torrential rain lashing our windscreens. I was looking for a safe place, away from the trees, to stop and wait for the worst of the storm to pass as more and more debris littered the road. I would come to a clear area, only to find I was on top of a hill where the wind was even more terrifying, so on I crept again.

Briefly I glimpsed a boat sailing, surrounded by violent, white seas, with another wave of water and wind about to hit it, and I hoped they were able to get to safety. I still wonder how they managed but have not heard any news of deaths at sea, on the news. However, a young man died when a tree landed on his car and I am just so grateful I got through safely.

At Port Huon the world was totally white, rain and sea lashed into foaming sheets. Because of the angle of the bay, the wind was coming almost directly from behind me and I decided this was where I would stop. I pulled off the road in a clear area and turned off the car, feeling the battering of the storm raging around me and unable to see anything through the windscreen because of the torrential rain. Suddenly there was an almighty crack of thunder. Lightening seemed to surround my car and once again I was scared to death of staying still so I started the car and drove on. The whole world around me was white with water; rain, an angry sea and lightening and it was hard to see the road.

I stopped another twice, after dodging fallen branches, feeling debris landing on my car and being hit time after time by violent walls of wind and rain. Eventually it started to recede to a safe level but I remember thinking that what I now thought of as “safe”, I previously would have called “wild”!

At Cradoc, just a few kilometres from home, a tree lay across the road and 2 damaged cars could be seen poking out from the branches. The passengers and drivers were ok and had started to direct the traffic around the mess.

I drove into my long driveway in serene sunshine, never being so pleased to arrive at a destination. I had been concentrating so hard on driving slowly and avoiding all the debris on the road that it was only when I came inside that I began to shake a little and the experience overwhelmed me, causing me to rush to the kitchen and make coffee!

I wish I had photos of the effects of the storm on the water because no-one would believe they were real. I cannot imagine the horror people must feel when worse storms than this destroy their homes, their towns and the lives of those they cherish.

You can watch a news report about some of it on the ABC here, but no-one seems to have captured the actual storm.

At The Shack, at last

The Shack is a tiny, old, weather-beaten dwelling at the end of a dead-end road, on a little known stretch of beach on Yorke Peninsula, South Australia.

As I write this I look out to the west, across Spencer Gulf, the beach only meters from my window. The sea is very calm and a small swell laps the shore as the sun heads towards the horizon…. I have been for a walk on the beach, as you can see by the sand and seaweed still on my feet! Apologies for the salty window!

As the now shopless (another story!) “town” gradually is found by city-dwellers keen to build a mansion to match their city lives (a good 200 kms away), our shack, in its original condition, is one of only a few to remain. But matter it does not because no-one can take away the view and the peace it gives all who relax here. As the houses back behind the shack grow ever taller to see over those of us with a front row position, I shrug and don’t care a jot.

This tiny, simple shack holds an enormous place in the hearts of my family. Almost every school holiday, all year round, we packed the car and headed to the shack; in summer for a month or more. Never having owned a motor boat, the beach in front of the shack would be littered with an odd collection of much-loved boards, canoes, a tinny and a funny, old, green catamaran we called Kermit.

There is no mobile phone coverage, no internet and not even any TV signal reaches us. I used to try to remember to listen to the gardening show on the radio, but I soon forgot what day it was. We don’t have a landline here either and no visiting child was ever allowed any electronic toys. Who needs such things with the sea literally at our doorstep? We have rain water and electricity. The rain that falls here, far away from cities, I am sure is a tonic for life; the salty sea spray falling with the rain, I think, keeping the tank water pristine.

Not much changes on the two and a half hour drive from Adelaide, except the farm sheds get bigger annually and the colour of the land changes as the grain crops mature through the seasons. But today I noticed something that, on reflection, made me laugh out loud; suddenly the roads have signs and names! Up until now I had not realised that most of the roads around here were nameless until I thought about how we used to describe a route to a beach or town, to a visitor…..”Oh you turn left on the good, dirt road by the broken down Telstra hut…. don’t take the one before because it gets all rutted/ turns into a farm track/ just ends in the sand dunes….. and if you get to the paddock with just a stone chimney standing, then you’ve gone too far…. etc”

I feel quite peeved about these signs. Who made up the names? Why do we suddenly need road signs now? Can’t somewhere in the world be left a bit ambiguous and unmarked? Well, there are no roads in front of the shack, so I really shouldn’t be so bothered.

The clouds have cleared from the horizon and there might be a nice sunset. Time to get dinner….. I sooooo love the oven here! It is a quiet, solid, Simpson 2001 (built in the days when 2001 was way in the future!). I found it at a second hand shop; it and its identical twin. The man said that each of them had things wrong with them but someone handy could combine the 2 and get one good one out of it. So I got them really cheap, we brought them over here on the trailer and my then husband did a fabulous job, as I knew he would. The kitchen in the shack is too small for an oven! So, it sits neatly inside the back door, next to a fishing rod and the broom, which is great in summer because the heat doesn’t get into the rest of the shack when I am cooking.

A flimsy, painted cupboard divides part of the living room from my bedroom. I wake in the morning, throw back the curtains and sit in bed with a coffee, watching the sea begin the day with me.

It is glassy calm and already dolphins can be seen close to shore, one just lying still and basking in the warm sun before leisurely cruising around, looking for breakfast.

We bought the shack as it was, fully fitted out with furniture and sheets and cutlery, all very dated but comfortable. We have hardly changed a thing and now the chairs are called retro and probably worth holding onto!

I did bring over lots of kitchen utensils, good knives, baking requirements and pots and pans because holidays are a time when I love to cook and it was here that I learned to make do. I would bring cook books from the library but the ingredients were never available in rural S.A. so I had to improvise and what fun that was. Hugh even started making gorgeous cakes here and selling them to the neighbours as there was nothing half as good for sale for 200kms!

But that was all a lifetime ago. Still, nothing is better than time at the shack.

Life is good. Get there fast, then take it slow…..

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                   Snaps from a few days alone in paradise

Bruny Island Bird Festival, part 1

The Bruny Island Bird Festival started on Thursday…. as a storm brewed across the water. Then the sky opened and it poured all day and into the night but we braved it and attended the welcome BBQ, in marquees around the Adventure Bay hall. The food was wonderful and the speakers made us enthusiastic to join in the guided bird walks and various talks on Friday.

Luckily, Friday morning saw quite a bit of sunshine, making our shore birds walk a delight. On the foreshore at Adventure Bay there are many flowering gums, perfect habitat for the Swift Parrot (a threatened species), which we frequently saw, but failed to capture in a photo, on our walk.

 

While Lenny continued on the shore birds walk, I left halfway through to head off to a talk by Chris Tzaros about photographing birds. It was very inspiring and not too advanced for amateurs like me. Here is a photo Chris took of a Swift Parrot.

However, the best chance we had to photograph some interesting birds came when I did not have my camera with me! A raptor hovered above the beach scrub, a flock of plovers took off from the beach in front of us, a late flash of light making them appear brilliant silver and a beautiful, large sea bird flew overhead, with the setting sun illuminating its coloured under sides, while we walked on the beach this evening….. Never go anywhere on Bruny Island without your camera!! Small compensation was this little (blurry) Scarlet Robin on a fence post, I photographed at the Bruny Island Berry Farm earlier in the afternoon.

Then, just as we returned from our walk this evening, front after front sped down the mountains, bringing rain and wind across the sea again.

Salty hair, sandy feet and miles of sunshine....

THIS is what I came to Adelaide seeking and, luckily, have found.... summer by the sea. Hugh lives near the beach... a wide, white gently curving beach in suburban Adelaide. I think I was a mermaid in a previous life because I live the sea..... sun, sand, dazzling light, curling waves, old, wooden jetties, diving into the water and coming up refreshed and free.

Young families find the shade of the jetty a cool and pleasant place to build sandcastles, stretch out on towels or frolic in the shady shallows, away from the heat of the early afternoon..... An Indian woman, dressed in colourful regalia, watches her husband and children splashing and playing nearby.... a talented young boy rides his skim board back and forth as the incoming tide sends blankets of shallow water onto the shore.... a little girl in pink, frilly bathers, splashes her dad in fits of giggles ...... a group of teenagers throw a variety of balls amongst each other, standing up to their waists in the sea, their voices happy and playful. An elderly woman in a smart pair of bathers wades out through the small waves, a delightful look of pleasure on her face.

Everywhere people are smiling, relaxed and happy. The sea, the beach, the warm sunshine do this to people the world over. I splash through the water as I go for a walk, the sand firm and flat and easy to walk on without watching where you are going. A light sea breeze skims across the water and flutters umbrellas and tents, as well as t-shirts and dresses. The silver light dances and sparkles on the surface, almost glassy, between the breezes.

On a day like today the temperature is perfect for walking in the lightest clothes, wet or dry and I hold my hat in my hand to feel the breeze blow through my damp hair. Glorious is the word that springs to mind, an absolutely glorious day to be alive and at the beach, at this beach, before the Adelaide summer gets too hot but far away from the still cold waters of Tasmania.

Back at Hugh's, we make a mango smoothie. Mangoes..... 3 for $5 at the market yesterday. There are some things that just cannot be beaten for sheer joy.

Bruny Island

A half hour drive then a 10 minute ferry ride from Kettering landed us on Bruny Island for a 4 day holiday away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life....Funny how even living in Cygnet, rural Tasmania, feels busy now!

Pure white, squeaky sand beaches, crystal clear water, rugged cliffs, amazing views, unspoiled bush, wildlife everywhere, the incredible Bligh Museum, day after day of berry pancakes and coffee from the Berry Farm, and sleeping in a beach house by the sea....

Cook, Bligh, d'Entrecasteaux and many other explorers of the 1700's visited and mapped this part of the world. There is Two Tree point where fresh water could be found and it is not hard to imagine a square rigger sitting out in Adventure Bay while sailors and explorers gathered oysters, wood, water and botanical specimens, planting fruit trees, offering gifts to the Aborigines and naming peaks and bays.

	Two Tree Point where the same 2 trees are still alive, as evident from a painting in the museum.
Begun in 1836, the same year Adelaide was proclaimed a city, it took 2 years to build on this rugged, isolated spot.

The lighthouse at Cape Bruny is made of rocks hewn by convicts in the 1830's and is the second oldest in Australia, only accessible by sea for a hundred years.

We saw a Southern Right whale, rafts of mutton birds feeding at sea on their return from Russia and the Arctic, yellow-tailed black cockatoos, seals, echidnas and so many birds I have lost track of them all.... and between times we sat in the sun at the tables of The Berry Farm which must be situated in the most idyllic position of all of Bruny Island, and ate from Kathryn's delicious menu on this, the opening weekend for the season.

Other food stops on Bruny should take a leaf out of Kathryn's book; they all lack what it takes to lure me back again, whereas I will relish another visit to the Berry Farm as soon as the berries are back in season when I am sure the menu will be exploding with creative dishes, and friendly smiles will make me feel welcome again..... and I will sit by the pond, a stone's throw from Two Tree Point, listening to the lap of the sea and imagining the creak of old wooden ships at anchor in the bay.

We walked on beaches where the tiny footprints of penguins, oyster catchers and a myriad of other small creatures had left their marks overnight, where driftwood and fallen trees formed sculptures up and down the beach, where the Southern Ocean lapped the shores in lines of rolling, aqua waves.

We went on the Bruny Island cruise, from Adventure Bay right down the rugged coast, where seals and dolphins play and we saw the Southern Right Whale not far from the boat. The 3 hour trip was excellent, informative and entertaining.

There is a simple little sign on the side of the Alonnah road announcing plants for sale so we headed up the driveway and were greeted by Ruth, in a breathtaking treasure of a garden which should be on everyone's list of places to go on Bruny Island. Ruth is in her 70's and her enthusiasm for her garden is infectious. The plants for sale are not only natives, but there are also hundreds of exotics she has grown from cuttings and seeds from her own garden. She walked us around her verandah from where her entire garden spreads out before your eyes. Sadly I have no photos but by the time we left we felt like old friends and now I have several plants in my garden as memories.

I look forward to another trip to Bruny Island and a swim in that beautiful but very cold water!

Berries, apples, dill, beans, onions and tomatoes with cake and coffee!

Or..... 2 days in the life of a woman in paradise!

If you are wondering what has happened to the sense of community wherever it is you live, then I am telling you it has all converged on Cygnet.

On Thursdays, people are invited (by a sign on the fence) to come by and help with the permaculture food forest which is using funding from the Green Gym movement as a base. It started soon after I got here and I have been coming every week since..... that's about 4 months now.

Here's a typical scenario..... some regular type people turn up with or without tools/ children/ dogs/ friends. Celia used to be in charge but now we all kind of do what we think seems like a good idea. There's a lot of chatter, laughter and a bit of discussion as we set to and turn the compost/ weed the broad beans/ dig up the hundreds of bulbs that seem to have sprung up in every path/ sow sweet peas around the cubby house/ pat and chat with various dogs and children and sometimes even their owners/ talk about who might have brought a cake or not, to go with the tea on Liz's verandah, at the end..... etc

So, we are all into our morning when along comes a visitor..... this Thursday it was Chris. He is the local apple tree man and what he doesn't know about apples and their growing, is not worth knowing. He brought some spare apple trees he had, to donate to the garden ..... some a bit tall and lanky and some quite odd shapes but all capable of producing a great crop, with a bit of good pruning.

Pretty soon about a dozen of us were gathered around as he began an impromptu pruning lesson on the new trees but also on the established trees in various parts of the garden. Next it was grafting and feeding..... until my head overflowed with information!

In the middle of all this excitement, an elderly woman had parked her gopher by the gate and was coming towards Liz and I..... her name is Janice and she nearly bought my house about 8 years ago but instead bought one 2 doors up! She had come to offer us all kinds of berry canes and cuttings and plants and seeds..... but she also wanted to listen to Chris the apple man so in she came to join the group. Next week some of us, now including Janice, are going up to Chris's to buy some of these very cheap, left over fruit trees.... So the connections are made..... I wonder who will come by next Thursday. (Stupidly I didn't take my camera but next week I will put on some photos of the progress we have made).

 

Friday, 10am.... a different dozen people have arrived at Frances' house for our second Home Gardeners get together. A breath-takingly beautiful 15 minute coastal drive from Cygnet is Charlotte Cove..... paradise.

 

 

 

I almost dare not put this on this blog because whatever meaning it is you are seeking in life, you will find it here.... warmth, sunshine, total quiet but for the gently lapping sea.... and neighbours who give to new residents a set of animal-proof frames for your vegetable garden, (see the photo) as a welcome gift.... knowing that, of course, this is part of why you have come, and that wallabies, rabbits and possums will be waiting....

Frances inspired us all with what she is achieving and how she is making the most of every single square metre of soil and sun in the most sensitive of ways.... growing vegetables, natives, fruit and flowers. I think I have found a kindred spirit. It was difficult to get good photos and I am sad I could not do better but hopefully there will be a next time!

We sat around a table laden with goodies made by all the guests and each of us talked in turn about our gardens, about what we had brought in the way of seeds and plants (hence the title of this post!) etc and, this time, we each had a show and tell of one favourite food related book. This is a skilled, experienced and enthusiastic group where the little I know pales into insignificance. Wow, I can't wait for the next time we meet!

ps http://www.bookdepository.co.uk/

Diamonds and Seals

Some days are more "paradisey" than others. I have so often written about the shack being in paradise, but even paradise can have a rating! Today is 10/10 for sea and sand but a little lower for temperature and wind. It is lucky indeed to be here when the sea is this clear, this brilliant and the sand such a pure white as to take your breath away.  As the tiny waves form a crest and are about to break onto the beach, it is as though each is filled with thousands of diamonds, polished by sand and sea, destined to be washed up onto the shore, such is the clarity and sparkle of the aqua water.

And so it was that this beauty drew me out on my board this morning; I just had to be there, to touch the diamonds and be a part of the day. I am very much at home paddling my board and prefer it to a canoe because I can drag a foot in the water or scoop up and handful of those sparkling jewels and splash my face, and I enjoy the cool water coming over the front of the board as I head out through the waves. I can also roll off the board into the sea on a hot day to cool down and easily climb back on again. If I am careful, I can leave my hat and sunglasses on the board while I am swimming about and diving down to touch the sand below..... if I am not careful enough, I end up having to dive down and get my sunglasses off the bottom and ringing out my sodden, floppy hat!

This morning I paddled out around the point and across the bay to the far end of North Beach.... what a totally inadequate name for such a beautiful place! There were a dozen or so old tractors and their trailers on the beach, used by the locals to launch their fishing boats....The sea was calm and it only took me 15 minutes to reach the end so I continued on past the rocky promontory to the next bay. Because the tide was in, this little bay was cut off from walkers who might come along North Beach and so I had a tiny patch of paradise all to myself. I put my board up on the beach and went for a swim in the deep, cool, crystal clear sea, afterwards drying off in the sun by sitting on the end of my board on the beach. Truly, I thought, this must be heaven.... no people, the only sounds being the tinkle of the tide on the sand..... just me and 2 seagulls.

Not being in any particular hurry to return I paddled on again, marvelling at the serenity and beauty of the high, red cliffs, the sparkling clean water and brilliant blue sky. The wind had been slowly rising and the time came to turn around as the trip back would be into the wind and therefore into the waves and not as easy as the outward journey. The work took more of my concentration on the way back and I was glad to hold onto an old boat mooring after paddling for 1/2 an hour.... the only place to stop and not be blown backwards. Another 10 minutes or so and I was back on the beach in front of the shack, looking forward to a coffee.... but that's another story.

This evening the wind died out completely as the sun approached the horizon and so lured me down to the beach once more. I walked in the cool, still water, the only sounds my footsteps and occasionally some distant birds in the sandhills. This is another rare and beautiful treat.... to stand still and feel total silence.... not a ripple of the sea, not a bird's call..... nothing..... and no-one else in sight. Such silence both empties and fills your head and is almost impossible to describe.

As the sun became a rich, golden ball, reflecting its glory on the calm water, a lone seagull flew silently by and tiny fish scurried here and there in the shallows. A metre or so away a stingray glided slowly by and another 4 or 5 metres further out to sea a seal's nose appeared, then the hump of its back broke the surface and it was gone again.... Usually I see dolphins fishing close to shore on still evenings like this but although I saw several yesterday, there were none tonight.

Paradise excelled itself today.

A STORY OF THE WIND

It was time to start reading a new book. I have finished and enjoyed "The Private Patient" by P.D.James and also a wonderful book that I found in a second hand shop in Moonta, called "Spice Travels" by Ian Hemphill. He is a spice merchant from Sydney whose passion for spices has led him all over the world in pursuit of knowledge about the growing and processing of every spice on earth. So, I had 2 choices left, both recommendations from son Alex. First "The Ancestor's Tale", nearly 700 pages of Richard Dawkin's fascinating and beautifully written book on evolution. Second, "A Short History of Myth" by Karen Armstrong.

I have read about half of the introduction of each....and here I am thinking about humans being meaning-seeking creatures who conversely also have an imagination that allows us to think of things that have no existence. It is going to take me a long time to digest both of these books at this rate! As I gaze out of the shack window, while my mind considers facts and myths, the fact that is most noticeable is that the wind is coming up yet again while Roger imagines the feats he could achieve windsurfing, now that Langmuire has arrived.

The wind wriggles into life in some most interesting ways. Some of them are universal, some local. Some are obvious, some only observed by crazy people like me who seek both the real and the myth. Some beneficial, some not, but all a very real part of existence for every living thing on earth. So, who is Langmuire?

As the wind strengthens, it has various universally understood effects on the water beginning with ripples and waves and progressing to what we call white-caps (or white horses) from about 10 knots and then white foam forming in lines directly downwind at about 15 knots. I cannot explain the scientific reason for these white lines but I do know they are called Langmuire's Circulations, after a Mr. Langmuire. In my photo at left the white line cuts across the sea just below the writing.

 

In the photo at right you can see that the lines extend downwind of the reef.

This is the point at which Roger goes windsurfing as he knows there is enough wind and he can see the direction, without even going outside.....thanks Mr Langmuire! 

 

Before Mr Langmuire visits, though, other things happen..... the horizon turns from a soft blue, blending perfectly with the sky, to a sharp, dark line heralding the arrival of the afternoon sea breeze. If I am walking on this beach on a still day, before the sea breeze arrives, it is totally silent, as where I walk is very shallow and there is not even a ripple on the shore sometimes. There are no roads for many miles and rarely any people.... just the pure, pristine sea, and me. As the wind begins to rise, I can hear it far out at sea. It is quite beautiful and unreal to hear the wind in the distance but it be completely still where I am standing. As the first tiny flutters of breeze erratically approach the shore, the movement of the surface of the crystal clear water reflects on the sand below and makes delicate patterns, like light glistening through thousands of pieces of glass. It is quite breath-taking.

These first breaths bring pockets of air from who knows how far away. Some are hot, some cool and eventually they mix to form a  breeze uniformly cooled by its drifting across the sea. Even on a hot day, the air doesn't need to travel far across the sea to cool down or far across the land to heat up. Just sitting in the shallows instead of further up the beach makes a hell of a hot day into a pleasant one.

Just before Mr Langmuire arrives though, sand and seaweed start to blow along the beach, the windows start whistling, it becomes a challenge to sit outside and read without losing your hat and the local gulls start playing in the wind.They flap upwind for a while then turn like an acrobatic plane and shoot down the beach at break neck speed, without so much as one flap of their wings. They do this over and over on windy days, especially the larger, darker gulls, who also use the wind to hover as if in a windless cage, just outside our window, even in what seems like a gale, showing us just what nature can do, unaided.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nature does very well when left alone..... here are a couple of recent examples.

IN PERSPECTIVE

I left home this Thursday morning feeling gloomy and I have returned, not quite skippity-doo, but at least relaxed. As I was walking along the beach, towards the end of my walk, I opened my jacket and put my hands in the back pockets of my pants. Anyone who knows me well will know that this simple thing signifies a few things about me. Firstly, I am hot - nothing remarkable about that, I have always been that way, while everyone else shivers. Secondly, I am relaxed; funny the things we do. Thirdly, I am confident about something. Body language is fun to observe, even about yourself. ( There were lots of these sea sponges here today, see?)

The light at the beach today was interesting and, as I had an inkling it would be, I took my camera. Black clouds looked threatening but barely a drop of rain was squeezed from them into my rain gauge.

It is nice, when you are familiar with a place, to know that nothing can spoil the day when you are there and that just the process of going there puts things back into perspective.Whether it be sunny or grey, windy or calm, hot or cold, I know that when I walk between the Henley and Grange jetties, with one or other of the dozens of dogs I have known and walked with here over my lifetime, life will be good. Very good.

....GETTING CAUGHT IN THE RAIN....

We have been waiting for rain for months and months. People had been getting quite depressed about it all being so hot and so dry for so long. Now we have moved into autumn, everything is softer and cooler and the rain and mist blow gently across the landscape. When the sun comes out the water droplets sparkle on the leaves and the air smells fresh and clean.

The clouds were black out on the horizon, as I approached the beach today, but I didn't think it would come to much - it rarely does at Henley beach, so I took my mother's dog for the usual walk and left my jacket in the car.Not a soul could be seen up and down the beach, for many miles - perfect - we had the place entirely to ourselves. To the north the sun shone briefly and blindingly on the Henley jetty and on a few old blokes out doing a bit of fishing off the end. To the south, black clouds gathered, and the sea took on a steel grey glint. There was no wind but the swell that had built up over the last few days rolled steadily in and broke erratically on the shore.

About 20 minutes into the walk I sat on the beach to watch the bird life which had gathered where a creek flows out into the sea. It has been a long time since this creek had flowed enough to reach the sea as more than a tiny trickle and there were gulls, terns, pelicans, pigeons and other small seabirds fossicking about in the moving fresh water, feeding, while others were having a hearty fresh-water wash. It was so peaceful and hard to believe that I was only 10 minutes drive from the city centre. A soft breeze floated by and carried with it some misty rain - a wonderful feeling on my face and arms. As I rallied my thoughts and began the walk back towards the car the rain came down a little stronger and I thought of that song about the bloke who discovers things about his wife that he never knew before, when he answers her ad in the paper....

"If you like Pina Colada, and getting caught in the rain.
If you're not into yoga, if you have half-a-brain.
If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes of the cape.
I'm the lady you've looked for, write to me, and escape."

It's a great song and as I know it pretty much off by heart, and there was no-one around, I wanted to sing it out loud, walking there in the rain on the beach because it is quirky and fun and the rain felt wonderful. I am the world's worst singer, so I sang it inside my head where it always sounds much better! My sunglasses were all wet and my hair was dripping and, as I walked along in the water with my pants rolled up and my jumper tied around my waist, I honestly felt like a teenager.


Life is good. Get there fast and then take it slow. (Oh no, another song! I could go on and on...)

It's not always fine in the Whitsundays (Queensland 2005)! 40knot tail wind and going 8 knots with no main and only a tiny bit of jib up. See the smile? I was as wet as anything from the rain and the waves that kept hitting me in the face. The sunglasses are to keep the rain and sea water out of my eyes!

Escape
(Rupert Holmes)

I was tired of my lady, we'd been together too long.
Like a worn-out recording, of a favorite song.
So while she lay there sleeping, I read the paper in bed.
And in the personals column, there was this letter I read:

"If you like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain.
If you're not into yoga, if you have half-a-brain.
If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes of the cape.
I'm the lady you've looked for, write to me, and escape."

I didn't think about my lady, I know that sounds kind of mean.
But me and my old lady, had fallen into the same old dull routine.
So I wrote to the paper, took out a personal ad.
And though I'm nobody's poet, I thought it wasn't half-bad.

"Yes, I like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain.
I'm not much into health food, I am into champagne.
I've got to meet you by tomorrow noon, and cut through all this red tape.
At a bar called O'Malley's, where we'll plan our escape."

So I waited with high hopes, then she walked in the place.
I knew her smile in an instant, I knew the curve of her face.
It was my own lovely lady, and she said, "Oh, it's you."
And we laughed for a moment, and I said, "I never knew"..

"That you liked Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain.
And the feel of the ocean, and the taste of champagne.
If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes of the cape.
You're the love that I've looked for, come with me, and escape."

"If you like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain.
If you're not into yoga, if you have half-a-brain.
If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes of the cape.
You're the love that I've looked for, come with me, and escape."

DOWN BY THE SEA...AGAIN

Sorry, but when the mood takes me somewhere I just have to go...
Each time it starts the second I get out of the car....a kind of aura begins to lift me out of whatever thoughts are in my mind. It can be the music I hear wafting along the esplanade from a nearby house or it can be the tinkle of the sea on the shore or the height of the blueness of the sky but it always happens and only today did I stop and register that thought. Every week on the same day I do a simple thing - go for a walk on the beach with whatever dogs I and my mother happen to have and I have been doing it for as long as I can remember.
It is not something I want to do with another person, but something almost secret because aloneness is special to me. Only in being alone can I use all my senses at once, or separately. Recently I have spent a few minutes of this time walking along with my eyes shut and relying on all other senses to keep me going straight, at a normal, brisk walking speed. It is so beautiful to hear the sounds of the sea so accurately, to feel the cool water as it laps over my feet and to detect the wind direction by the touch of the breeze on my face and arms. As soon as I open my eyes, sight takes over in a powerful way and dulls the other senses a little.
The sea is only a 15 minute drive from the centre of the city and the shore is crowded with houses old and new, jostling for space, but from the long, straight beach the sea stretches out to the horizon making a panorama devoid of human interference. It takes me about 10 minutes of walking, usually, to be totally free of my life and to be in a space centred on the moment. I think modern-day people pay money to go to meditation and all sorts of classes to reach this place but it is there, free to all, at the beach, if you just give it time to find you. And once you find it, it can stay with you all day, if you are lucky.
On a perfect day like today there is also time to see the changing details but when the wind is cold and howling and the sea is deafening and the walking is hard it is easy to be distracted by these personal battles and get back to the car having missed some of those tiny things that make the beach an ever-changing canvas. Ripples in the sand, tiny pieces of brightly coloured sea weeds, a seagull with one leg, stones of a certain shape and colour, shells of a different type, a pelican gliding inches above the sea, the texture of the sand, the sun appearing from behind a cloud, a dolphin fin only metres from the shore - all these and hundreds more nuances are like a kaleidoscope in slow motion, changing weekly or monthly or seasonally.
This is not so different from what is possible for us to experience in the garden but I find growing food provides me more with that skippity-doo feeling compared to the freedom and solitude of the beach.

DISCONNECTIONS

Reading Scarecrow's blog this afternoon I wandered off to look at The Sietch Blog , as recommended, and I found it to be very thought provoking as well as entertaining. Scroll down to Jan 14th "Where our food comes from" and you will be transported to a quirky series of still life productions of which this is one. They are created out of real food - as you can see there is cauliflower and broccoli under the sea and carrot stalagtites hanging from the cave roof etc etc This reminded me of some musings I had whilst snorkelling at our shack.

When you enter the world under the sea it is, on the one hand, a foreign land which we cannot fully participate in without the wearing of special underwater gear but on the other it is totally familiar. There is sandy soil, rocks, undulating hills and craggy cliffs. There are plants adapted to all these situations, just as on the land. There are animals happily going about their daily lives on the bottom, in amongst the shrubs and trees and some on the water surface. Waves and tides are the weather and the sun provides daily rhythms, just like on land. When snorkelling we get a view as if we were a bird, flying above and we can dive down and catch glimpses of what's going on in the caves and crevices below. It is silent and awe-inspiring and can make you feel totally focused on observing your surroundings - something we sometimes don't do when on the land because we are so used to it and so busy doing things.

As I tuned in to the 3 dimensional environment below and around me I wondered about the huge variety of plants I could see, just 10m from the shore, but invisible from above. Could I eat and enjoy some of these? I know other cultures do and I am sure the local aboriginal people would have. How do I find out, I wonder. As the years go by I get more and more sorry that I am of British descent because they seem to be the race most disconnected from their surroundings, and most stuck-up and arrogant to have gone all over the world killing the locals so they could take their land and attempt to grow cabbages and potatoes there instead. All the time dressed in stupid, crazy clothes and "teaching" the people about their god! How I would love to be almost anything but 3/4 British !

We had some work people around for a BBQ before Christmas and one bloke brought a Thai friend. I had tried to talk to her during the day but she was shy and her English wasn't very good and I was busy with all the food etc. After lunch someone else asked if I would show them around the garden and this Thai lady came too. Immediately she saw some herbs and my kaffir lime tree she became so animated - explaining how to use them in cooking and medicinally - and continued chatting and exclaiming all around the whole vegetable garden when she saw something familiar. Her knowledge was astounding and obviously a part of her background and I envied her that connection with her culture and her history. It is the same with the people whose stories appear in the book "Community Gardens" - their connection to their culture is so deep and moving and, again, I felt shocked that I feel no deep connection to the native foods of Australia, only a desire to learn about them, and the culture of white westerners, in general, appalls me.
Here is another of the creations with potatoes for rocks and pieces of chocolate cake too....

As I read the Cherokee book(see below) I suddenly remembered something from my childhood that my mother had said. My great-aunt Dorothy looked unlike any other member of the family - with skin the colour of a dark summer tan, straight, black hair and a round happy face. We all loved her different way of thinking about things and her happy nature. My mother said how odd her looks were "like a Cherokee Indian" . Maybe she knew something ! She never had any children but maybe her genes jumped over the generations to me and that is why I am so weird !

ANOTHER SHACK DAY

I have had a lovely session in the garden - sowing some seeds on the full moon (well, not actually ON the moon more like DURING) and a few other nice little jobs. I have come in to have my one delicious home made espresso coffee per day plus the last piece of my Christmas cake. Despite feeling almost skippity doo about picking up a roll of carpet underfelt from the front yard of a house nearby, I seem to have fallen into a peaceful and calm time and I can't for the life of me write something humorous even though I desperately want to - maybe its got something to do with the moon ! So I will type in another of the bits I wrote while at our shack and I hope you enjoy it...
There's not much less you can do, really. Each day stretches out and could, theoretically, be filled with things to do, jobs to get done, words to be said. I reckon that after 2 weeks here, its unlikely I could do any less in a day than I do today - I have achieved that perfect state of non-busy-ness.
I said to Roger yesterday, after a lovely snorkel at a remote reef we know, that we have to work pretty hard over summer to fit in all the activities (such as this one) that have become traditions since we got our shack 15 years ago. I mentioned 2 such activities and he said "Yeah, its tough. That's one activity per week so far" ! He was right. As I explained at the beginning we couldn't do less if we tried.
This morning I announced that I thought I'd go for a nice, long paddle on my board - an hour or two's quiet movement through a magical scene, with just the sounds of the water and the birds and, if I am lucky, my favourite sound in the world - that of the puff of air being expelled when a dolphin comes to the surface nearby before it takes in another breath . I worked up to this yesterday but didn't go in the end. Roger said he might come too, since he wasn't all that busy today. So off we set. After about 15 minutes paddling the wind came up and then got too strong to make it a pleasure so we headed in to the beach and went for a swim instead. Maybe I will head off again tomorrow or maybe next holiday. You see, whether I complete the journey or not is of no importance to me at all. When I reach this state of mind, I am interested only in the now and if the plan falls through, its because I choose to do something else better suited to the conditions - mental and environmental. It is pure life. Something to think about while having a coffee out the front.
That's interesting - "out the front". Some visitors call it "the back" but to us the sea is much more important than the road, so it gets the title of "the front" since it is on the seaward side.. The shack only has 1 door and I say its a "back" door because it faces the road and when you look out through it you see the shed and the clothes line which are between the shack and the road. A man we met brought us some whiting he had just caught as he said he had too many (I wish that was my problem!) and instead of knocking on the door he walked around the shack probably looking for a back door. He was a bit confused about there not being another door so he called in through the window! Of course we met up at the door eventually !
Today, after the paddle, the swim and the coffee I thought I would turn on the radio for the first time these holidays. But it was hard work having my thoughts guided by someone else and I kept taking out the earphones to hear the sounds around me - the birds, the sea, someone arriving at the shack next door, a car or boat starting up, even Roger ! Soon I gave up and turned it off - I am not ready for that yet. Ah....pure life again. Time - plenty of time - to sit and think about stuff or about nothing - just open the senses and let it all come by itself.
You know that song that has the lines "...I've been to Georgia and California and anywhere I could run. ..I've been to paradise but I've never been to me.".
Well, now I have been to me.