Monday, August 3, 2015

Fifty Steps

Yes I've counted them. It's fifty steps in my sheepskin boots from my new front veranda


to here




I did think I was a bit nuts, about the moment I strapped my mattress on the back of the ute. The months of planning the housing, the novel, the logistics, the gas bottles and batteries for LED lights and lamp oil, all that came crashing in when I finally realised the reality of moving to one of the most isolated places in south west Australia to live in a house without debilmagic, smart phone range or community back up.
"Jesus, what the fuck am I doing?" I texted a friend.

The thing is, I know I'm the same woman who built a shack in a ghost town four years ago. It's an edifying affirmation for me right now.

'It's okay, you can do this, Sarah,' I think, as the night grows cold, quiet and dark.


12 comments:

  1. "I would stitch myself into the inlet. I could do that"

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  2. Reminds me of a rather long Australian joke:

    An Englishman decides to sell-up, move out of London and live in the deep Australian Outback because he is fed up with the dull life.

    So he sells everything, finds a shack in Nowhere and buys it, then flies out with nothing but a suitcase.

    25 hours later, he gets into a taxi and tells the incredulous driver where he wants to go, then sets off on an 8 hour taxi drive.

    After a very long while, an isolated tin shack appears on the horizon, and the driver pulls up to it and says, "Here you go, Mate", before dropping the Englishman off. The driver disappears leaving the man on the veranda as the sun sinks, wondering what the FUCK he has done, when a plume of dust appears on the horizon. 20 minutes later, a beaten-up pick-up truck rolls up, with a sweaty and elderly, bearded old man at the wheel.

    "G'Day!" says the man, "You must be the new bloke who's taken over the farm!"

    "Yes, I am," says the Englishman.

    "Well welcome. We have a tradition round these parts - we have a party for newcomers. There'll be dancing, drinking a few beers, RUMPY-PUMPY! more dancing, more beers, more RUMPY PUMPY, and before you know it, dawn will be up and I'll drive you home again. How does that sound?"

    The Englishman began to feel a little more heartened. "It sounds wonderful, thank you."

    "Good. I'll pick you up at 7.30." With that, he drives off, but the Englishman shouts out, "Wait a minute - what should I wear?"

    "Ah, don't worry about that, mate. It's just you and me! '

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  3. You got a generator and/or solar set-up — just in case you find yourself wanting a bit of that debilmagic?

    How are you getting on the internet?

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  4. Wow. Good luck. I'd be scared, and don't mind admitting it! But I've never done anything remotely as exciting!

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  5. Heard it before Tom, but still got a laugh..

    If ever there was a place to get down with the novel, it must be that Sarah. Best wishes with it, hope it all comes together as planned.

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    Replies
    1. I think I went on a bit too long for someone else's blog, though.

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  6. If you had telly you could watch Kevin McClouds latest offering on people living in "the wild" & maybe even be on it. Don't recognise it. Is it Broke... or is it secret? Ive always thought if you made a movie about early Albany (film version of yr book once it goes global for instance), Broke would be the place to do it. When I canoe it I always imagine Ive just landed at Kalyenup before whitefellas got there.
    Interesting story about Camfield. The bloke who dobbed on the killers of the 2 gold stealing detectives in Kal in 1920s, apparently went off to live there in an early form of witness protection and stayed till he died in 1970's.

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  7. Thanks for your comments and well wishes bloggers. I've just come back into range.
    A fine indictment of Australian hospitality Tom!
    Yes, Alex I have all the mod cons, just no internet. And yes Crispin, like pre whitefella country ... until the two uteloads of blokes and pig dog/lurchers meet me on the road, wind down the window, "Hey love! Have you seen any pigs around here? What about marron?"

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  8. Hi Sarah, I'm envious of you and at the same time, don't think I could ever do it. Something about that pull to, and need for, solitude, and the fear of the modern human of being on their own and relying only on themselves, that I think maybe we all feel. I happened to be reading your post, just after I read this (see below), and they almost seemed deliberately linked. Funny how the web does that sometimes.

    http://www.terriwindling.com/blog/2015/08/tunes-f.html

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