Saturday, February 16, 2013

Thursday, February 14, 2013

Lymington and the dirt roads about Cygnet

Text for this and the previous posts will come, but I have been too tired to write.


The Switzerland of the South



Monday, February 11, 2013

Sunday, February 10, 2013

An afternoon ride

I was going to service my bike this afternoon in preparation for an over-night ride tomorrow up the east coast.  However I did not feel the desire to go.  Rather I am enjoying going nowhere, having no schedule, and just being a local for two weeks.  As per today when I did a favour by towing some earth moving machinary a good distance, driving alone and dressed in a flannelette shirt, just one more local farmer.  Later I was to be seen fish-tailing violently with the thing on a narrow gravel road, but that's another story that will need a tractor to fix.  So, rather than service my motorcycle I decided to ride The Channel Highway again - the road that follows the coast line below Nicholls Rivulet.

I have been 'cutting a pace' all week, but beginning from today I will move into cruise mode, winding through the corners gently and taking in the scene and the air.

Below is the view across my old primary and high school and over the town of Cygnet.  I could say that Flame Trees was playing on the record player in my mind however there is much change, much pace, and much moved out of place.  This is all for the better.  It means more jobs, including more interesting jobs.  But it also means less mullets.  To me, the sort of young man who, when I lived here, played jazz and read poetry when I wasn't losing myself in the bush, and who had no taste for the brutality that can be normal among small town boys, this makes the place so much more livable and attractive.   

In the evening I sat in the spa which Dad has set up out on the front lawn, looking over the mountains.  I drank and watched the wallabies feed.

Saturday, February 9, 2013

Port Arthur

I slept poorly last night.  I dreamed a drowning dream: that I was flailing in the water, unable to swim, my weight pulling me down.  The shore was right there beside me and on it a man stood, almost above me, and to him I reached out my hand imploring him to save me.  But he simply stepped back, cold-faced, letting me sink.  As the water covered my vision and filled my lungs I realised that I recognised his face: it was mine. 

I awoke at 6AM and spent several hours unable to sleep but too tired to rise.

Today I went riding for the first time with my step-brother, Daniel.  I hope that this is the first of numerous two-wheeled adventures we might share in the coming years.   

We visited some magnificent scenes of foaming ocean crashing against ancient rocks.



Tonight I took some photos of the visitors who frequent Dad's lawn every night:

And some video of the peace that descends here at night fall. 

From Dad's verandah...

And looking about....