Some days I feel like I have lost something, some kind of juju that I used to possess. I should be getting braver and better at what I do. Building shacks, writing books and fishing for a living and now my ability to wield an electric drill let alone write a whole bloody book ... well those muscles feel atrophied. (Caveate here: I have felt the same way at the same stage of my last two books, like the thing's a dog and not a very nice one at that. It's the problem with pre-resolution, lack of confidence and no plot answers in sight. I know this shit, right, but still I suffer for my art). The electric drill bit, *see what I did there* is another muscle and it's laziness that's allowing me not to pick it up, fix the bung on the dinghy and get the boat out on the water. After destroying two boats when I didn't pull them high enough ashore during a storm, I don't trust myself to launch it on my own. Hence the bung conundrum.
Anyway, all whining aside, it's been pretty good around here. I live entirely off grid. That makes washing
clothes, doing the dishes and watching movies more interesting. I have a gas-powered
refrigerator and hot water system, so I’m not totally wilding it, but no electricity, water or mobile networks mean it’s pretty much back
to basics. I pump water up to the top tank which gives me water pressure to
said hot water system. I always know when the water up the top of the hill is low because the hot water cuts out on me. The pump's not working at the moment. It's cat and mouse between water running low and pump fixed. I read books and download podcasts. I’m writing this on a solar powered laptop
from one of the most beautiful places In The World.
This morning I drove up the track to head 200 kilometres to work at the uni. I drove through the karri forest, past the dead boomer roo, who hasn't been opened up by crows or eagles yet and no human has the stomach to drag it off the road. Pretty ripe. A few hundred metres on, this scene added to the dendro-dance macabre:
This poor karri was quite alive when it fell. Maybe yesterday's rain loosened it from the earth. Maybe the recent burn compromised its buttresses. Dunno. I was just as sad for this fallen giant as I was about the big male kangaroo. It always eeries me to see a tree downed like this.
However, I was able to drive around the old man kangaroo. This new situation required the old vervy, creative Sarah Toa and she was out and about to check a possible route and put the front cogs into four wheel drive. I'm pretty chuffed that I wasn't on the track when this mother came down. Below is a picture of the spot a few kilometres along where I usually sit on the track. I can get four bars of mobile phone reception there and do my banking and email business. A near miss. I try to avoid it these days during heavy winds. Straya mate ... stuff here can kill ya.