Month: July 2017

There is a difference between going on a silent walk and being silent when walking.  I’m learning about the latter.  It is all about the sensory experience.

I set my alarm an hour before sunrise so I could turn the heater on, then dressed and waited for first light.  I drove to Foxes Lair, Narrogin, turned my windows down, took off my sunglasses and watched nature at her best.  I inched into this 68 hectare bushland.  I know there are grey Western kangaroo here but have seen them only twice before.  This time, we played a game of spot the kangaroo!  The bush at this hour is magical.  The birds eat, play and then groom themselves meticulously.  The white cheeked honeyeater is somewhat smaller than the ones in the South West and the markings seem to be more striking.  The humble red western wattle bird always catches my eye.  Some find them ordinary.  I think they have a certain elegance.

I focused of what was happening at my feet.  So engrossed was I that I only realised there was someone else nearby when a dog on a lead became impatient as his owner stopped.  An elderly lady looked bemused.  A local, she asked me what was the drawcard that brought people here with their camera.  She could not see what I could see.  The flowers I was photographing were mostly tiny.  To find a primrose spider orchid was a special treat!  I walked up to her and showed her a few of my photographs.  She looked at me, saying, “Oh my word!  I had no idea!”

My prayer that morning was a short and humble one.  I asked to be shown something beautiful that I could share with others.  My prayers were answered, I believe.

Until next time

As always,

a dawn bird

I heard a silent snigger, like I had drawn the shortest straw, whenever I told people my next trip was to Paraburdoo.  Some 1500 km north of Perth, it is deep in mining country, with a population of around 1600 people, most of them work in the mines.  Despite all my travel, I have never been here.  Not knowing what to expect, I held my breath flying out to the unknown.

As we left the familiar city coast, we veered north, away from the ocean, and soon over the most spectacular landscape.  I had no idea this area is so beautiful.  The land looks like it has been sculpted by water, with ranges and gorges as far as the eye could see.

I naively expected a regional airport but could not resist a smile when we taxied up to a small demountable building, proudly labelled, Paraburdoo Airport.  We picked up our luggage from an open luggage trolley.  I dragged my suitcase across red dust to the car rental office, small and cool.  The cars here are made for a life that is hardy.  I stepped into the car expecting it to reflect the life of drivers here but it was surprising clean.  So far, so good!

I headed into the townsite, cradled by ranges.  More surprises!  As the sun set, the ranges  lit up in the most gorgeous muted light.  The transformation of harsh red into pastels was watching a painting in progress.  The main street in town was lined with palms.  Palms!  It gave a semblance of main street.  At the end of  a street was the Catholic Church, a suburban home where locals worship.

I circled my motel.  A multi-purpose building it would seem.  The restaurant was closed, as was the drive-in bottle shop.  On the other side the bar, that also housed the TAB (the official gambling agency) was open.  Customers had parked their cars and headed indoor to cool.  It was a warm 29 degrees celsius.  I gathered up courage and walked in to pick up my key to the motel room.  Despite the years, I’m still getting used to unconventional check ins!  My room was simple but spotless.

I took a short drive to the only shop, hoping to find something edible to eat, but before getting there, I stopped by the side of the road, to take in the incongruity that makes this place so appealing to the locals.  And, to my right, found a mulla mulla bush in full flower.  Then, I exhaled.

Until next time

As always

a dawn bird

I’ve just returned from a quick trip to Exmouth, 1200 plus kms north of Perth.  The town of 2500 people is small with fishing and sea activities being drawcards for the tourists.

The drive in town is always a delight for me.  One has to watch for emus.  They have right of way.  Despite their enormous size, they can be difficult to see until they just about run into the car.  This one kept ahead of me and I was happy to loiter behind it.

Town Beach is a lovely place to be.  As the name suggests it is in town, just a few hundred metres off the main road.  Being a peninsular, the sun sets and rises over water.  The beach has a few obligatory white 4WD that are so common across sand in northern coastal towns.  The sunset, in a word, spectacular.  The muted shades of pink, blue and persimmon muted conversations too.  At daybreak, the rising sun performed magic, and something in me shifted.  Just a little.

I have never been tempted to pick shells or pebbles off beaches.  I always believed they belong there to be enjoyed by others.  But on this trip, something clicked in me.  I recalled my father singing ‘Catch a Falling Star’, a song made famous by one of his favourite singers, Perry Como.  The words …

Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket
Never let it fade away
Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket
Save it for a rainy day

I realised I desperately wanted to bring home some of the beautiful stones.  So like a child in a candy store, I stuffed my pockets.  Soon, every time I bent over, I was aware I needed to pull my slacks up.  My pockets were weighing heavy.  I emptied them on a bigger rock and kept collecting.  Then like a bower bird, I made several trips to the car to transport them back to my hotel.

The beach pebbles are in my home now only to remind me, I was glad I caught a falling star.

May you catch your falling star today …

Until next time

As always

a dawn bird