I wake around 5am to blustery winds and the strong threat of rain. I can't move without waking Hayden. there goes my walk. Once Hayden is awake, the world is obliged to move with him. "I want my brekky NOW!" Not that that means I am obliged to get it for him, but it does mean Nevil and I have to move immediately into riot control / behaviour management mode, unless of course we want anarchy to reign. With no impulse control and no ability to see the world beyond his own personal needs and desires, Hayden must be constantly and repeatedly reminded to slow down, go through the routine IN THE CORRECT ORDER, speak quietly and politely, etc., etc.
At the other end of the scale I have Scott, who is so burnt out that he cannot move himself. "Scott, it's going to rain. We need to get up and get moving...Scott...Scott, are you awake? ... Scott, are you alive?.
"Mmm."
This will be the pattern for the next four weeks. Hayden spinning like an out-of-control spinning top, Scott like a snail going backwards. Added to the mix will be Mark, whose own set ways of doing things and seeing the world will be challenged at every turn. He will find this hard to cope with. He's not used to having to concede to not being able to win an argument against a twelve year old who has no power for reasoning, beyond "I want it because I do!"
We have to move fast this morning. The weather is closing in and we don't want to be packing up a wet tent.
We say goodbye to Langi Ghiran, some of us initially on foot and others following behind in the cars. (Hayden has thrown a tizzy fit so he, Nevil and Keygan start to walk as a means of distracting and calming him down).
We head west towards the Grampians, stopping off briefly at Pinkey Point near Ararat, where the first local gold was discovered in 1854.
Mark takes the practical touristy shots. I get the arty ones - old bits of tin, interesting angles of the what remains of the shafts, wet grass, wet posts. Nothing brilliant as I recall, especially from me.
On to, and through, Ararat. The drive up into the Grampians is interesting and reminds me very much of home. The rain by now has become quite steady. My plans to do a bit of a walk here are completely dashed. With only half of us keen to walk, the others would have to wait around in the wet. Those of us who went would be soaked and we'd have to then find a place in the car for wet clothes. It's simply not worth it. Besides, I've already decided that there are so many places here I'd like to explore further, just with Nevil, that it's better to get through to drier country and leave this region for another visit. I'm convinced of it when a simple drive through reveals large, smooth, spectacular sheets of solid rock, draped across the mountain to our left, grey and glistening in the wet. I wish I could stop for a good photo but it's raining hard right now and Hayden has no patience for me taking photos. (Since I dragged him away from the dozens and dozens of kangaroos in the park at Halls Gap he has no patience for anyone or anything).
There are countless beautiful sights to see on the drive across the mountain, but with tempers flaring, I can only look and wish. Next time. As we head out the other side I recall seeing water (Lake wartook) to the right. We do stop at a lookout towards the west but it's freezing by now and Scott is reluctant to move. Keep moving. Keep moving...
We dodge howling wind and driving rain in Horsham to grab some lunch by the river, then keep heading north as quickly as we can towards the Mallee country. Away from the Grampians the land has flattened out and the roads become long and straight. It's raining and freezing cold but we're struck by the overall dryness of the place. There is no stock, no wildlife, not a blade of grass. Drought has definitely hit hard here and while this is the best fall they've seen in these parts for a long time, it's clear that much more is still needed. Farmers are out in force on their tractors, sowing and drilling new crops.
The little towns through here have some beautiful old buildings. What about that amazingly once-opulent old hotel at Jeparit?
PHOTO PLEASE.
I know that Lake Hindmarsh is not far west of us, but I cannot see any water. I'll later learn that this lake, like the one we're heading for, is dry and has been for many years.
We're heading for Wyperfeld National Park and plan to camp on the shores of Lake Albacutya. We've already learned that, even in our 4WDs, we are asking for trouble if we get off the bitumen or gravel roads onto the Mallee sand in this wet weather. We're about to learn that Lake Albacutya is as dry as dry as dry. It has great facilities, built by the local volunteer group, and includes a long jetty down into the middle of the lake, but the lake has been dry since the 1970's. It's not expected to fill again.
With the tent up in a great little camp spot, and with Neviland Keygan getting tea on, I take my camera and escape for a walk to the jetty. In dry weather you can drive right across this lake. Tonight, with the rain, I can't even walk on the soil. It sticks to my boots like glue. Within just a few steps my feet are heavy and caked in grey, sticky mud. I'll stay on the jetty.
There are masses of tiny melons, strung together like beads.
PHOTO: I get down low and get some shots along the strings. The tiny melons stretch from one side of the photo frame to the other.
PHOTO: I stand on the top of the jetty and get a panorama shot of the dry lake, wet from the rain. It's just on sunset (but the cloud prevents me from getting anything brilliantly spectacular).
Monday, July 19, 2010
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Fuel problem solved, we make it to the boat in good time. already I want SPACE!!!!!! With 5 males in various stages of excitement and neediness, they all hover and cling to me like flies. I know at this stage we need to stay close. The boat is big, we can't let Hayden wander, Keygan...well, he just likes his mum, Scott is lost anyway, Mark likes our company and Nevil? Well, he's my husband and we want to be together. We are each others' sanity.
So the obligatory exploration of the ship is done altogether. Hayden is loud and excited, bouncing off the sides of the ship (thankfully in an inward direction).
We really should have gone for a cabin, like Mark. At least one of us will get a good night's sleep. The lounge chairs are uncomfortable and almost discourage sleep. At 2.30am I am still trying to get Scott to get himself to bed, as we're due to be called at 5.30am to disembark. I watch him from my chair, tossing and turning, thinking, thinking, thinking. What great weight holds him down tonight? Finally (and illegally) I bed him down on the floor between other passengers, in one of the swags we have brought with us but are not allowed to use.
Predictably, he is almost impossible to wake at 5.30. The run to our car when he's finally up and ready is panicked and stressful.
It seems Mark has fared no better than the rest of us, sleep-wise. He, too, is grumpy and tired from a bad night's sleep. What a great start....!
We truly and honestly have no idea where we are heading, other than to say on this first morning that we need to stop for breakfast and that we're heading roughly
towards the Grampians.
Strangely for Melbourne, it's a beautiful clear Winter's morning, with a good white frost revealing itself as we head into daylight and the fruit growing town of Bacchus Marsh. There, almost before the sun is up, we stock up on some fresh fruit and vegetables to get us through to the fruit fly exclusion zone.
We pull off the highway near Pykes Creek Reserve and find what looks like a large vehicle parking area. With the frost only slowly lifting, we park in the full sun
and set to work preparing our first breakfast from the back of the ute. Hayden pulls out his scooter and releases some energy in the loose gravel.
This is my first opportunity to sit and relax in many days. Maybe, now we're on the road, it will all settle down and be okay...
Our first breakfast, off the road near Pykes Creek Reserve (Mark)
With breakfast over and mental notes made on fine tuning needed in the packing department, we set our course for Ballarat.
We stop to have a look at Kryall Castle. Wow! What a feat in bricklaying! I recall my sister once came here for a wedding and got all dressed up for the occasion in period costume. We can't afford to pay to look around but we do get a couple of photos.
PHOTO:
Nevil and the boys standing on the drawbridge over the moat, just outside the castle. ("THERE'S ACTUALLY A MOAT, MUM!")
PHOTO:
Inside the castle, up to the right, is a knight, dressed in chain maille, if my memory serves me correctly. I get the photo from an interesting angle, but I don't remember what the angle is.
We head into Ballarat, where we spend the rest of the morning at the Eureka Stockade Information Centre. We have a battle on our hands with Scott. His tendency is to compare everything to home, and nothing really measures up. We have to work hard to get him out of the car just to come and look, to experience something new. He hasn't even heard of the Eureka Stockade, so to impress upon him the significance of this place and its moment in our history is no easy feat. But we do succeed. He comes with us, he looks and he learns.
PHOTO: We sneak into the court room and get a photo of Hayden playing judge.
It's clear we haven't researched this trip. We are surprised on arriving at the admission desk at sovereign Hill that, not only can we not afford the $103 family ticket, but we also would be wasting our money to try and do it justice in the two hours we have left. Deciding to maybe come back this way, we leave Sovereign Hill and Ballarat, heading for our first campsite, Langi Ghiran State Park, about 80km west of Ballarat.
We gather some wood for a campfire before we reach the Park. This will be a regular activity. Just as we pull in, the four other vehicles that have been there for the weekend, are heading out, leaving the entire site to us. The fire is still hot and within minutes it is freshly ablaze.
Also within minutes, Hayden has found something very interesting. He comes running to me with a small container of bits and pieces, saying "Mum, look what I found in that tree stump." Inside is a note, explaining that the finder is welcome to play with or use the contents but could they then please put them back for someone else to find. The finder is also welcome to keep one item, providing they replace it with something of their own. I have just the thing. Hayden chooses the tiny torch, which I replace with a Tassie Tiger hatpin.
There is wildlife all around us, also keeping Hayden occupied.
I hope it's just tiredness from a bad night's sleep all round that's making us all so niggly and snappy and Scott so hopelessly helpless. Mark and I spend the evening snapping at each other (as only siblings can) and we all work out that we just have to work around Scott, because he ain't moving anywhere! Hayden can't sit still and won't leave the fire alone. It's cold and we all have to find our place within this mottly, ragtag crew.
We don't need it but we light another fire in one of the barbecues. This becomes our kitchen and after tea I'll seek the refuge of the other fire for peace and quiet.
This is a beautiful spot. Straight up the gully (to the north I think) is an interesting area to explore, with large flat rocks forming much of the ground's surface. But it's getting dark and I have to get some tea on. In the morning I intend to get up early and climb the small mountain that towers over (But back a little from)our campsite.
The rule is, I tell them, that everyone takes a turn at cooking each night. I will help them, or they will help me, but they will take a turn. Scott says he will just buy us a counter meal from time to time.
"That's fine with me," I say. If you want to do it that way, go ahead. Then I can have a night off completely."
Tonight, being our first, four of us pitch in with set-up and meal preparation. Hayden is mostly off exploring or under my feet demanding to eat. Through it all we have him do his few basic jobs; unpack the chairs, set up the table, put his bag in the tent, unroll his swag.
I need peace, I crave peace. I want quiet. There is none with this group. Some never stop talking. Others always have to be spoken to. One never stops pushing. Another needs pushing all the time. At last, with the washing up over, Hayden is in bed by 8.
I call the girls. Katie tells me she was on tv tonight doing her trapeze act at the Derwent Entertainment Centre in Hobart. It wasn't quite what she'd hoped. They only took her up 5 metres and in her wheelchair too. "I thought they'd strap me into a harness on my own!" Still, it was fun, she made the news and got to show off her basketball skills.
I chase Scott into his swag, before finally climbing into my own.
I suppose things could have been worse.
So the obligatory exploration of the ship is done altogether. Hayden is loud and excited, bouncing off the sides of the ship (thankfully in an inward direction).
We really should have gone for a cabin, like Mark. At least one of us will get a good night's sleep. The lounge chairs are uncomfortable and almost discourage sleep. At 2.30am I am still trying to get Scott to get himself to bed, as we're due to be called at 5.30am to disembark. I watch him from my chair, tossing and turning, thinking, thinking, thinking. What great weight holds him down tonight? Finally (and illegally) I bed him down on the floor between other passengers, in one of the swags we have brought with us but are not allowed to use.
Predictably, he is almost impossible to wake at 5.30. The run to our car when he's finally up and ready is panicked and stressful.
It seems Mark has fared no better than the rest of us, sleep-wise. He, too, is grumpy and tired from a bad night's sleep. What a great start....!
We truly and honestly have no idea where we are heading, other than to say on this first morning that we need to stop for breakfast and that we're heading roughly
towards the Grampians.
Strangely for Melbourne, it's a beautiful clear Winter's morning, with a good white frost revealing itself as we head into daylight and the fruit growing town of Bacchus Marsh. There, almost before the sun is up, we stock up on some fresh fruit and vegetables to get us through to the fruit fly exclusion zone.
We pull off the highway near Pykes Creek Reserve and find what looks like a large vehicle parking area. With the frost only slowly lifting, we park in the full sun
and set to work preparing our first breakfast from the back of the ute. Hayden pulls out his scooter and releases some energy in the loose gravel.
This is my first opportunity to sit and relax in many days. Maybe, now we're on the road, it will all settle down and be okay...
Our first breakfast, off the road near Pykes Creek Reserve (Mark)
With breakfast over and mental notes made on fine tuning needed in the packing department, we set our course for Ballarat.
We stop to have a look at Kryall Castle. Wow! What a feat in bricklaying! I recall my sister once came here for a wedding and got all dressed up for the occasion in period costume. We can't afford to pay to look around but we do get a couple of photos.
PHOTO:
Nevil and the boys standing on the drawbridge over the moat, just outside the castle. ("THERE'S ACTUALLY A MOAT, MUM!")
PHOTO:
Inside the castle, up to the right, is a knight, dressed in chain maille, if my memory serves me correctly. I get the photo from an interesting angle, but I don't remember what the angle is.
We head into Ballarat, where we spend the rest of the morning at the Eureka Stockade Information Centre. We have a battle on our hands with Scott. His tendency is to compare everything to home, and nothing really measures up. We have to work hard to get him out of the car just to come and look, to experience something new. He hasn't even heard of the Eureka Stockade, so to impress upon him the significance of this place and its moment in our history is no easy feat. But we do succeed. He comes with us, he looks and he learns.
PHOTO: We sneak into the court room and get a photo of Hayden playing judge.
It's clear we haven't researched this trip. We are surprised on arriving at the admission desk at sovereign Hill that, not only can we not afford the $103 family ticket, but we also would be wasting our money to try and do it justice in the two hours we have left. Deciding to maybe come back this way, we leave Sovereign Hill and Ballarat, heading for our first campsite, Langi Ghiran State Park, about 80km west of Ballarat.
We gather some wood for a campfire before we reach the Park. This will be a regular activity. Just as we pull in, the four other vehicles that have been there for the weekend, are heading out, leaving the entire site to us. The fire is still hot and within minutes it is freshly ablaze.
Also within minutes, Hayden has found something very interesting. He comes running to me with a small container of bits and pieces, saying "Mum, look what I found in that tree stump." Inside is a note, explaining that the finder is welcome to play with or use the contents but could they then please put them back for someone else to find. The finder is also welcome to keep one item, providing they replace it with something of their own. I have just the thing. Hayden chooses the tiny torch, which I replace with a Tassie Tiger hatpin.
There is wildlife all around us, also keeping Hayden occupied.
I hope it's just tiredness from a bad night's sleep all round that's making us all so niggly and snappy and Scott so hopelessly helpless. Mark and I spend the evening snapping at each other (as only siblings can) and we all work out that we just have to work around Scott, because he ain't moving anywhere! Hayden can't sit still and won't leave the fire alone. It's cold and we all have to find our place within this mottly, ragtag crew.
We don't need it but we light another fire in one of the barbecues. This becomes our kitchen and after tea I'll seek the refuge of the other fire for peace and quiet.
This is a beautiful spot. Straight up the gully (to the north I think) is an interesting area to explore, with large flat rocks forming much of the ground's surface. But it's getting dark and I have to get some tea on. In the morning I intend to get up early and climb the small mountain that towers over (But back a little from)our campsite.
The rule is, I tell them, that everyone takes a turn at cooking each night. I will help them, or they will help me, but they will take a turn. Scott says he will just buy us a counter meal from time to time.
"That's fine with me," I say. If you want to do it that way, go ahead. Then I can have a night off completely."
Tonight, being our first, four of us pitch in with set-up and meal preparation. Hayden is mostly off exploring or under my feet demanding to eat. Through it all we have him do his few basic jobs; unpack the chairs, set up the table, put his bag in the tent, unroll his swag.
I need peace, I crave peace. I want quiet. There is none with this group. Some never stop talking. Others always have to be spoken to. One never stops pushing. Another needs pushing all the time. At last, with the washing up over, Hayden is in bed by 8.
I call the girls. Katie tells me she was on tv tonight doing her trapeze act at the Derwent Entertainment Centre in Hobart. It wasn't quite what she'd hoped. They only took her up 5 metres and in her wheelchair too. "I thought they'd strap me into a harness on my own!" Still, it was fun, she made the news and got to show off her basketball skills.
I chase Scott into his swag, before finally climbing into my own.
I suppose things could have been worse.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
I'd originally intended to take a holiday on my own. I craved peace and quiet and have been homesick for the outback since our last trip four years ago, so a visit to see my sister in her newly established home in Alice Springs seemed just the thing.
"Can I come too?" asked my husband, Nevil, who needed to get away just as desperately as me. How could I say no? Besides, I love travelling with him. When it comes to travel, our interests are mostly very similar.
That, however, meant we had to face a problem in the form of our 12 year old intellectually disabled, ADHD-laden 12 year old, Hayden. We were only just getting used to the idea of having to use regular respite, for the sake of the family's sanity. The thought of leaving him in respite for a whole month was too much. He loves and misses his family terribly when he's not at home and acts up on his return. While we may have needed the rest, we reasoned that after a month away from us, his behaviour would be unbearable to come home to. Besides, he loves travelling. We decided we had no choice but to take him. It wouldn't be so bad...
Next problem. Hayden is full on. He never stops (except to sleep). He is self-centred, impulsive, inflexible, loud and loses his temper very easily. He would wear us out. So, how to get around that? The obvious solution, take Keygan, our 14 year old son, to keep him company and spread the load. They would both like that.
So we're set. Let's get packing.... Therein lies our next dilemma. I have a middle-aged bachelor brother, who loves travelling but has no family of his own to share the experience. We wrestle with this for a long time and finally conclude that, despite having vowed and declared from last time that we will never travel with him again, he actually loved our last trip. Besides, maybe it wasn't as difficult as we remember. And since it's no longer just Nevil and me (and Mark will take his own vehicle), one more won't make much difference. So, inevitably, we invite him along - but on the understanding that this is my trip and we will go where I decide, no rush, no plans, no pressure. Okay?
Okay.
So we think we're ready? Think again.
We have a good family friend from a Queensland property, who is not well. Scott is in his mid-twenties, give or take. Nevil and I have known him since he was a little boy. A quiet, gentle, methodical thinker, but bright and full of ideas. Scott has seen a lot of heartache in his young life. He left school at 14 to help run the family property when his Dad was sick, he grew up fast, battling drought, flood and fire, not to mention never-ending personal and family pressures.
We could see the signs of potential breakdown 4 years ago. It was clear that if he didn't get a good rest, something would have to give. Instead, the pressure mounted. In just one year he was personally affected by three serious accidents that left one friend dead, another permanently in pain and another a complete paraplegic. A good friend committed suicide and Scott's father developed cancer. As if the stress was not enough on the family, they were soon to go through serious drought. Day in, day out, Scott fell into a monotonous, lifedraining routine of moving cattle from one bare paddock to another, pumping water, bringing in feed, feeding out dunda (a molasses mix) to starving cattle, and finally and far too frequently, shooting the ones that didn't make it. We could hear over the phone the toll that it was taking, not just on Scott but on the whole family.
"You need a break, Scotty," we'd say. Come down here, even for a few days."
"Yeah, I will, soon..."
Of course he never could. Then came the rains, and boy oh boy, did they come! Before they knew it they were facing the worst floods in tens of years.
With the floodwaters subsiding, at least the pressure to find water was relieved. Soon the grasses returned and feed was abundant. That was about the time that Scott went into meltdown.
"Come down here and have a break. You need to get away."
"Yeah, I will soon..." But by now he couldn't shift himself to do anything.
Scott had promised to come a month before our planned trip. Now ill-health and incredible fatigue saw that time came and go but Scott stayed put. We knew things were bad. His mother was at her wit's end, going crazy herself with worry and frustration. Scott wasn't the only one who needed a break.
"Hey Scotty, I've got a plan," I said to him one night on the phone. "Why don't you come down here the week before we leave, then I'll book you on the boat with us. Come travelling with us, we're just roughing it, just the swags, the ute and a tent in case it rains. We're camping out. Very basic. What do you say?"
"Mmm, sounds good." (Not convinced)
"You could do the whole month with us or we could take you home in the middle. It would be up to you. It'd be a good chance to see a bit of country you haven't seen."
Finally, he is convinced. I'll book his tickets. All he has to do is pack a bag and his swag and catch that plane. We wouldn't hold our breath....
I know his Mum told me how bad things were, but hearing and seeing are two different things. Within ten minutes of picking him up, it was clear that this would not be easy. Within a few days I was seriously wondering what we'd got ourselves into.
So, here we were, one Wintery Saturday evening, heading for the boat, due to set sail at 7.30pm. The boys are excited, I'm exhausted. After much pushing and coaxing, we finally got Scott into the car on time. All is well. Then, twenty minutes from the boat we run out of diesel....
"Can I come too?" asked my husband, Nevil, who needed to get away just as desperately as me. How could I say no? Besides, I love travelling with him. When it comes to travel, our interests are mostly very similar.
That, however, meant we had to face a problem in the form of our 12 year old intellectually disabled, ADHD-laden 12 year old, Hayden. We were only just getting used to the idea of having to use regular respite, for the sake of the family's sanity. The thought of leaving him in respite for a whole month was too much. He loves and misses his family terribly when he's not at home and acts up on his return. While we may have needed the rest, we reasoned that after a month away from us, his behaviour would be unbearable to come home to. Besides, he loves travelling. We decided we had no choice but to take him. It wouldn't be so bad...
Next problem. Hayden is full on. He never stops (except to sleep). He is self-centred, impulsive, inflexible, loud and loses his temper very easily. He would wear us out. So, how to get around that? The obvious solution, take Keygan, our 14 year old son, to keep him company and spread the load. They would both like that.
So we're set. Let's get packing.... Therein lies our next dilemma. I have a middle-aged bachelor brother, who loves travelling but has no family of his own to share the experience. We wrestle with this for a long time and finally conclude that, despite having vowed and declared from last time that we will never travel with him again, he actually loved our last trip. Besides, maybe it wasn't as difficult as we remember. And since it's no longer just Nevil and me (and Mark will take his own vehicle), one more won't make much difference. So, inevitably, we invite him along - but on the understanding that this is my trip and we will go where I decide, no rush, no plans, no pressure. Okay?
Okay.
So we think we're ready? Think again.
We have a good family friend from a Queensland property, who is not well. Scott is in his mid-twenties, give or take. Nevil and I have known him since he was a little boy. A quiet, gentle, methodical thinker, but bright and full of ideas. Scott has seen a lot of heartache in his young life. He left school at 14 to help run the family property when his Dad was sick, he grew up fast, battling drought, flood and fire, not to mention never-ending personal and family pressures.
We could see the signs of potential breakdown 4 years ago. It was clear that if he didn't get a good rest, something would have to give. Instead, the pressure mounted. In just one year he was personally affected by three serious accidents that left one friend dead, another permanently in pain and another a complete paraplegic. A good friend committed suicide and Scott's father developed cancer. As if the stress was not enough on the family, they were soon to go through serious drought. Day in, day out, Scott fell into a monotonous, lifedraining routine of moving cattle from one bare paddock to another, pumping water, bringing in feed, feeding out dunda (a molasses mix) to starving cattle, and finally and far too frequently, shooting the ones that didn't make it. We could hear over the phone the toll that it was taking, not just on Scott but on the whole family.
"You need a break, Scotty," we'd say. Come down here, even for a few days."
"Yeah, I will, soon..."
Of course he never could. Then came the rains, and boy oh boy, did they come! Before they knew it they were facing the worst floods in tens of years.
With the floodwaters subsiding, at least the pressure to find water was relieved. Soon the grasses returned and feed was abundant. That was about the time that Scott went into meltdown.
"Come down here and have a break. You need to get away."
"Yeah, I will soon..." But by now he couldn't shift himself to do anything.
Scott had promised to come a month before our planned trip. Now ill-health and incredible fatigue saw that time came and go but Scott stayed put. We knew things were bad. His mother was at her wit's end, going crazy herself with worry and frustration. Scott wasn't the only one who needed a break.
"Hey Scotty, I've got a plan," I said to him one night on the phone. "Why don't you come down here the week before we leave, then I'll book you on the boat with us. Come travelling with us, we're just roughing it, just the swags, the ute and a tent in case it rains. We're camping out. Very basic. What do you say?"
"Mmm, sounds good." (Not convinced)
"You could do the whole month with us or we could take you home in the middle. It would be up to you. It'd be a good chance to see a bit of country you haven't seen."
Finally, he is convinced. I'll book his tickets. All he has to do is pack a bag and his swag and catch that plane. We wouldn't hold our breath....
I know his Mum told me how bad things were, but hearing and seeing are two different things. Within ten minutes of picking him up, it was clear that this would not be easy. Within a few days I was seriously wondering what we'd got ourselves into.
So, here we were, one Wintery Saturday evening, heading for the boat, due to set sail at 7.30pm. The boys are excited, I'm exhausted. After much pushing and coaxing, we finally got Scott into the car on time. All is well. Then, twenty minutes from the boat we run out of diesel....
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
So, here it is. Not only my first attempt at blogging but the first blog I've ever seen! It could be said that I'm a blogging virgin. It's both scary and exciting to think that anyone will now be able to read my thoughts, my hopes, dreams, disappointments, wishes and regrets. I feel there should be some celebration, some fanfare. But no. I stumbled through the set-up on my own. I'm sitting alone at the kitchen table, wondering what to click on and what to leave well alone, while my husband is in the lounge room watching the State of Origin and all the kids have dispersed in five different directions. I have peace and space. That in itself is extremely rare. So I'm happy to forego the fanfare.
I have a specific hope for this blog. As the name suggests, I've lost something. Actually, in the past few years I've lost a lot of things. I'll concede that the latest, by many standards, was relatively trivial, but in the sequence of events, proved just as devastating, at least for a time.
I'm not sure where to start. I don't want this to sound like a journey of self-pity. In fact I would hope that it is a story of hope and triumph. But on the way to that there has definitely been a bucketload of grief.
Let me tell you first what I want. Over time I hope you will understand why.
I'd like you to embark on a kind of treasure hunt, a road trip, an opportunity to give, share and receive, a competition where there are many winners, no prizes, but I hope, many rewards.
So in a nutshell, here's the background.
Six weeks ago, I set out on road trip, a much needed holiday with family and friends. We left Tasmania on the Spirit, on 22nd May. Arriving in Melbourne, we headed north-west towards the Grampians, touching the edge of the Big Desert before heading north through the Mallee, onto Mildura and into NSW. Upward to Menindee, west to Broken Hill and Silverton, then north to Tibooburra, west to Cameron Corner and over the border into SA. Via the Strezleki Track we hit Innaminka then took a back road into Qld. Our Queensland travels took us via the Dig Tree, Thargominda, Quilpie, Charleville, Blackall, Adavale and Cunnamulla. South to Bourke before heading east as far as Inverell and good friends. A quick dash southwards saw us passing through Narrabri, the Warrumbungles, Narramine and Condoblin, almost doing a complete circle as we re-entered Victoria via Tocumwall and Shepparton. On Saturday 19th June we boarded the boat and headed home.
Naturally, throughout the journey I took lots of photos (over 1000, in fact. For many reasons I hope to explain, those photos were to be my memories. Literally, they were intended to help me remember, re-live, enjoy, a journey that at times was almost unbearable. They were the good times. The moments of peace, aloneness and joyful discovery.
On my return home, eager for a happy memory, I took the picture card from my camera and slipped it into the laptop. Four photos appeared.........then nothing.
The long and the short of it is that after several attempts at retrieval by myself and the photo lab, I was left with an empty card. Some of my photos weren't much. Some were beautiful. I know that because as we travelled, I often went over them, time and time again. Even on that tiny screen they brought me comfort and joy.
Now they are gone.
That is where you come in.
I want to share with you my journey. I want you to re-capture it for me in photos and stories.
From the ashes of my despair, I want us to create an album of shared memories, at times as close as possible to my own, at others new and better ones. I want us to create an album better than any I could create on my own.
We travelled at a very special time. After recent floods the desert was green! I may never see that again. No one will ever be in those places at the time I was to see exactly what I saw. But many will come close. Many will see and capture something better. Some of my photos can never be reproduced. They spoke of a moment in time, gone forever. That's okay now. There will be other moments, equally special, that someone else can share.
I'm happy to say that something was retrieved. My brother, Mark, and my son, Keygan, did take some photos. But theirs are a different kind. While mark tends to be more of a snapshot man, he did learn to follow me and pull out his camera when I did. By the end of the trip he was even taking photos of things I couldn't. So all is not lost. But I suppose you could say I'm a bit more "arty" with my photos (although by no means a brilliant artist). I like angles, shapes, patterns and designs. I especially love macro and I love simplicity and contrast.
Keygan is just learning to look in the same way i do. Some of his shots are great. Some great ones are unfortunately blurred. Between us we'd hoped for something very special.
So please help me to find my memories. Whether you live in these areas, have friends or family there, or (ideally) go out of your way to discover them for yourself, please pass this message on and help fill the album.
Now, I've survived this first phase, I'm off to bed. I'll let you know what I'm looking for as we go.
Thanks,
Net
I have a specific hope for this blog. As the name suggests, I've lost something. Actually, in the past few years I've lost a lot of things. I'll concede that the latest, by many standards, was relatively trivial, but in the sequence of events, proved just as devastating, at least for a time.
I'm not sure where to start. I don't want this to sound like a journey of self-pity. In fact I would hope that it is a story of hope and triumph. But on the way to that there has definitely been a bucketload of grief.
Let me tell you first what I want. Over time I hope you will understand why.
I'd like you to embark on a kind of treasure hunt, a road trip, an opportunity to give, share and receive, a competition where there are many winners, no prizes, but I hope, many rewards.
So in a nutshell, here's the background.
Six weeks ago, I set out on road trip, a much needed holiday with family and friends. We left Tasmania on the Spirit, on 22nd May. Arriving in Melbourne, we headed north-west towards the Grampians, touching the edge of the Big Desert before heading north through the Mallee, onto Mildura and into NSW. Upward to Menindee, west to Broken Hill and Silverton, then north to Tibooburra, west to Cameron Corner and over the border into SA. Via the Strezleki Track we hit Innaminka then took a back road into Qld. Our Queensland travels took us via the Dig Tree, Thargominda, Quilpie, Charleville, Blackall, Adavale and Cunnamulla. South to Bourke before heading east as far as Inverell and good friends. A quick dash southwards saw us passing through Narrabri, the Warrumbungles, Narramine and Condoblin, almost doing a complete circle as we re-entered Victoria via Tocumwall and Shepparton. On Saturday 19th June we boarded the boat and headed home.
Naturally, throughout the journey I took lots of photos (over 1000, in fact. For many reasons I hope to explain, those photos were to be my memories. Literally, they were intended to help me remember, re-live, enjoy, a journey that at times was almost unbearable. They were the good times. The moments of peace, aloneness and joyful discovery.
On my return home, eager for a happy memory, I took the picture card from my camera and slipped it into the laptop. Four photos appeared.........then nothing.
The long and the short of it is that after several attempts at retrieval by myself and the photo lab, I was left with an empty card. Some of my photos weren't much. Some were beautiful. I know that because as we travelled, I often went over them, time and time again. Even on that tiny screen they brought me comfort and joy.
Now they are gone.
That is where you come in.
I want to share with you my journey. I want you to re-capture it for me in photos and stories.
From the ashes of my despair, I want us to create an album of shared memories, at times as close as possible to my own, at others new and better ones. I want us to create an album better than any I could create on my own.
We travelled at a very special time. After recent floods the desert was green! I may never see that again. No one will ever be in those places at the time I was to see exactly what I saw. But many will come close. Many will see and capture something better. Some of my photos can never be reproduced. They spoke of a moment in time, gone forever. That's okay now. There will be other moments, equally special, that someone else can share.
I'm happy to say that something was retrieved. My brother, Mark, and my son, Keygan, did take some photos. But theirs are a different kind. While mark tends to be more of a snapshot man, he did learn to follow me and pull out his camera when I did. By the end of the trip he was even taking photos of things I couldn't. So all is not lost. But I suppose you could say I'm a bit more "arty" with my photos (although by no means a brilliant artist). I like angles, shapes, patterns and designs. I especially love macro and I love simplicity and contrast.
Keygan is just learning to look in the same way i do. Some of his shots are great. Some great ones are unfortunately blurred. Between us we'd hoped for something very special.
So please help me to find my memories. Whether you live in these areas, have friends or family there, or (ideally) go out of your way to discover them for yourself, please pass this message on and help fill the album.
Now, I've survived this first phase, I'm off to bed. I'll let you know what I'm looking for as we go.
Thanks,
Net
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