This kid was born, luckily without inheriting my giant nose.

If it doesn’t play download the original and figure it out.

21 years ago Em came into the world, it was another of those moments.

In my last post I was attempting to compare to those blips of unreality and realisation one experiences in life from time to time to a filmatic effect. It was not a telephoto moment but as you can see 20 seconds into the below video, it is a Dolly Zoom Moment…

If it doesn’t play download it and figure it out.

Dolly Zoom moment in Jaws.

I was to meet my son for breakfast at the stipulated time. It was part of yesterdays ultimatum or perhaps pen-ultimatum. He was still in bed when I arrived to pick hm up. He had seemingly forgotten the acid words he had thrown my way the day before. We went for breakfast at Split cafe. It was cold and rainy so we did not go for walk. We sat in the cafe and he told me the story-lines from the various mediums he has been indulging in of late. I had not slept well after the previous days welter of emotional cross-fire. My nerves were frazzled and he prattled on with his disconnected anecdotes from youtube. I apologised, hugged him , told him I loved him before dropping him home.

I did not want to go home. I drove south avoiding the highway. I ended up at Wenmouth Head. There is not much to see there. A low scrubby headland, an expanse of sandy beach with people fishing off it. Some bommies off the shore. I sat on a rock and watched the waves.

I found myself thinking on a friend who had recently taken his own life. I decided to visit his childhood home. He had told me a few happy stories about his adventures there. I walked back to the ute and headed to Scotts Head.

It was much the same as I remembered it. The beach break curved round the headland as I had often seen it. I drove on up past his Mum and Dad’s old house. I stopped at Grassy Head. Drank some water and ate a handful of nuts before climbing around the headland. The rocks here are gnarly. I took some photos of the rocks, the sea and some of the deep green and orange pandanus palms.

The cliffs on the south of the headland made me think of another friend from my childhood. He and I grew up walking along clifftops and rough pathways we both still do. I sat at the edge of the cliff edge watching the waves surge and feeling them break through the rocks beneath my feet. The vertigo made me slide away from the edge and continue my journey.

I drove too far. I found myself funnelled onto the newly upgraded highway. Circled back on myself. Passing the grim Slim Dusty Interchange I thought of something I had read by E.Annie Proulx. A tragedy, an old man becoming forgetful, confused and lost as he drives along the never ending and always expanding continental roads of North America. The memories of a lifetime of itinerant fruit-picking and agricultural labouring, no help to him in this new world. I could not remember the name of the story. The road, the story and the forgetting, impossibly, lowered my mood.

I pulled off the highway at Port Macquarie. Today it was a dire and pointless town. I found myself eating fried-chicken and soft chips. Feeding misery with misery. I glumly walked the streets. This was no good. Abruptly I got back in my ute and drove to Hat Head. Three point two kilometres of “experienced bushwalkers only” finally helped me turn the corner. Despite the plethora of moron sign-posts instructing their audience in the most obvious and petty warnings and rules, I felt happier. Nature won over the trappings of the bureaucratic state. The weather helped as it absolutely pissed down. Huge gobbets of ice cold rain hammered down as if a million heavenly taps had been opened. Bedraggle wallabies appeared from the long grasses and dark-eyed me suspciously.

I left the path and scrambled through lawyer vines and wet mud. Slipping down to explore the blue-black sea-smooth rocks with the sharp salty seaweed smell. The waves smashed hard over the rounded boulders. I waded through the warm foam and spray, already soaked to the skin by the cold rain. I had found what I was looking for and now I could go home.

In a crevice on Hat Head

We went to the Curryfest last weekend which was pretty good. Of course we ended up spending most of the time with Emrys in the playpark with hundreds of kids.

Em at the curryfest

I have just returned from a weekend at Station Creek with Ev. We hung out like feral boys. I bought Ev some of that Coopers Malt drink (fake beer) and real beer for me. We went fishing, peed in the bush and didn’t wash.
…and so his path to manhood progresses.

Whilst I was standing in the water, with my handline and a piece of pilchard, Ev spotted a hungry shark heading straight for me. So I told him to go get the camera for a macho photo opportunity but he freaked and told me to get out of its way. Then I saw it…

Carpet Shark

A monster… no not really and Evan didn’t even get the camera, but it did go straight for me.

I think it just wanted to hump my leg or be friends. It was a fantastic looking wobbegong or ‘carpet shark’. They get their name from the beautiful deep pattern on their skin which resembles a persian rug.

Anyhow I was in its way, so I hopped back onto the rocks, wasn’t scared… honest.

The wobbegong hung around a while, which sort of put us off fishing as we didn’t really want to catch such a beautiful creature - we had a tin of beans for supper instead.

…so much for us going all cave-man.

Evan makes himself comfy

Evan catches some bait

Ev Fishing

Off the rocks

Camp-site marauder

Caractacus Potts and Chitty Bang Bang captured by giant pudgy hands

Emmy (age 3) and I spent a happy hour or so down the beach this arvo, we built an entire sand-planet. I attempted to fathom the narrative from Em’s three-year old brain as we played. Characters from the film Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and a childrens book which involves a bloke called Waldo who had a nice house with a boathouse by the sea.

We started with Baron Bomburst’s castle with a few canals and watchtowers, then we made a lake with a small village on the otherside which had a bustling cafe where we enjoyed chips and ice-cream. We then built Waldo’s house with a jetty to tie up the swordfish and went out boating.

During a particulary vicious storm invloving a chubby three year old splashing around like a mad porpoise the Swordfish sank, but was rescued by Jemima and Truly Scrumptious. We then had to build another village, no, more of a parish. The windmill and old barn with the bumpy road down to Mr Coggins’ garage. This was near to a cliff with a cave at the top which Waldo often slept in.

Jemima (Em) collected lots of periwinkles and Caractacus (me) held them in his hand whilst they squirmed around. This went on for a while then we went back to Waldo’s place for tea. Truly Scumptious (also, me) drank neat whisky and ate pork scratchings. Whilst the kids had tea and chips with lots of sauce.

My brain feels a bit sore now.