Monday, October 14, 2019

Apocalyptus diversicolor

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.

 

8 comments:

  1. I've been feeling like that recently, except I have an excuse. Nobody is expecting me to write a book but everyone is expecting me to retire. It's hard to tell the girth of that tree from a photo, but I don't suppose carrying a chainsaw in the car would be much use?

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    1. Yes I was thinking about a chainsaw (and about retiring altogether). A chainsaw would have fixed half of the picture. The trunk's girth is about four feet and that involves heavy machinery. The woman at the shire groaned out loud when I told her.

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    2. Ms Mer, septuagenarian fisherwoman of legend, did a chainsaw job on the track recently, to get through.

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    3. She still has her Ju-Ju then. Borrow some.

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  2. I feel like I am going to cry when anyone speaks to me if there is a chance they are going to be nice to me. I avoid such situations. It is getting a fucking nuisance. I am annoyed with myself. I light a fire and that is as near as I get to off grid but that gives me some satisfaction.

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  3. Lighting a fire is much better than television, Rachel, or sometimes even sympathy. I hope you are travelling okay x (don't cry)

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  4. I am also stressing about trees dying Sarah. I scan the bush when I am driving around my home town or to work. Not sure if it's my imagination but I seem to be seeing the death of more big trees. With the water table dropping and more people drawing on it to water their damn kikuyu lawns (and proudly boasting about it - grrrr) I guess that's inevitable. But you are right - it is terribly sad when an old tree dies.

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    1. Yes, this wasn't an old tree. It was quite young and vigorous, at 30 - 40 years I guess.
      Sometimes road trees get that leaf miner into them and the whole lot look like they are dying. On your right, just past Stanley Rd, on the way into Albany. You know the ones? A couple of seasons later they come back again. But they've gotta be strong enough to withstand this kind of attack and if they're not getting enough water ... The trees I'm most worried about at the moment are the Tingles. I think they are remnant Gondwana critters, rain forest trees and now their habitat is completely different and getting more so.

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