A week camping in September 1998, part 1

It really started on the Friday. The Chief of my Druid Order came to visit this country for the first time and I volunteered for the job of escorting him to his various media interviews. We had a couple of short talk show interviews at the government stations' studios, then a newspaper interview over lunch at Vultures, a trendy cafe in Northbridge, the main cafe slash nightlife slash restaurant area of the city. This was followed up by a long interview with a New Age and spirituality radio program at one of the university stations (during which I escaped for a milkshake at a local cafe) and sightseeing with some others around the central city. No shoes, no comments anywhere about my dress (fairly standard PR/liaison outfit). Apart from the one made by the Chief the next night, commenting on how nice it had seemed somehow that I had been barefoot and no-one seemed to notice.

On Sunday my love and I packed up for the long car trip to Albany. It's not actually that long a trip (five hours drive in our little car) but we were planning to be camping for a week and seeimg my dad as well so just about everything went in the car. Neither of us took shoes except for my emergency thongs. Emergency in this connotation stands for "G*d my feet hurt and we've got four kilometres of sharp gravel left to go".

My dad has a farm just outside of Albany (Western Australia), where the air is clean and the ground is currently not covered in goose poop. This is a change. We went and had a look at his new renovations - a tennis court and space for a new shed that had been levelled near our bedroom-huts. The sand there is lovely and white, very very fine and soft. Getting down to our hut after dark was more of a challenge, as the levelling had created a big drop on the old road, and all the metal junk that had been supposed to be buried in the levelling had instead been pushed to the edges, making it a tricky proposition to navigate down the drop safely.

The next day we picked some citrus fruit from the orchard to take with us. There had been a solid week of downpour the week before we came, and in some places the ground was very soft. Squelchy, even. Michael (the farm manager) had sunk down past his ankles in it the day before, so he said. And he has tall ankles . With fruit in hand we went to a nearby sanctuary where a two-day druid camp was being held.

When we got there, no-one else was there - including the residents. Except for the youngest kids and their eleven-year-old babysitter. Apparently it took everyone else longer than it took us to get there. So we decided to go to a nearby beach - Muttonbird Island - and took the kids with us. It was an entertaining experience - you have to go down some quite steep steps to get there, under overhanging shrubs and creepers, then when you get to the bottom there are large granite boulders at the base of the clifffs which you have to climb over to reach the beach. The beach itself is similar sand - fine and white and soft. The water is shallow for a long way out, until you get to a deep channel just before the island itself (a bird sanctuary). The kids struggled a little in their shoes (I'd forgotten to tell them to leave them in the car) but with my encouragement removed them immediately on reaching the sand. Those rocks are wonderful for being barefoot - great grip, quite comfortable.

We all had a great time splashing around and digging holes in the sand, and even almost managed to stay clean until the very end, when the one who didn't like water suddenly threw herself into it belly first and started eating the mud. Around about then the others started covering eachother with more mud (we'd taken our pants off before this thankfully, but every other item of clothing had fine itchy sand right through it!). After an hour or so they told us we should leave (and they were right). I stopped them from putting their shoes back on and we all scrambled up over the rocks, even the three-year-old who was a little shy about it. Back up the long, windy, steep path - there are always more steps going up than down! - carrying miscellaneous shoes and bits of clothing, swinging the one-year-old over the steps that came up to his waist and letting him scramble the other steps. Then back into the car and back to the sanctuary. The view from that beach is unreal - along there the water is clean, cold and often deep, and the coastline is generally granite cliffs. The lookout at the top is wonderful.


Written on September 22
Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3
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