Started the day in Narrandera, where the researchers from the ANU were back to trap an adult parrot so they could put a tracker on him. They wanted the male of the species … and the researcher explained in a sympathetic tone that the poor dad was only trying to feed his family and was… Continue reading Bingo @ the Rock
WRITING MY BONES
A Writing Life is a Solitary One
Lettes Bay - the view from the decking I know this. Like countless writers before me, I understand how lonely the road can be. Forget the wild parties with the intense debates over politics. Forget the struggling artiste stereotype. Writing is work. Hard work. Like any artist, writers labour over their creations, forging something from… Continue reading A Writing Life is a Solitary One
Writing as Archaeology
It started as an ordinary conversation with my daughter—two writers comparing notes about the strange things that happen when imagination meets the body. I told her about Aliriani, a character who’d introduced herself to me, and later, shaken me more than any other. Writing her story had left me trembling, hollowed out, raw in a… Continue reading Writing as Archaeology
Mudgee — catching my breath
I’ve arrived in Mudgee, NSW. Since Delungra, I’ve only traveled around 470 km in six days. I am weary – though inspired by my fleeting exchange with a lizard. Long-tailed, he stood on the road, upright as I rounded a corner, then ran off to the other side of the road as I approached. ‘Lizard… Continue reading Mudgee — catching my breath
Road life Reality: Between Dust and Direction
Field Notes: Merriwa, NSW Photo courtesy of hoejin-iwai-iK4ju_SCfTM-unsplash I’ve dealt with hay fever for the best part of two weeks — or is it three now?Already I feel it sneaking over the edges of my personality and burrowing like a worm as part of my identity. What does it feel like to live without managing… Continue reading Road life Reality: Between Dust and Direction
Road life: A snapshot
I stayed last night in Wallabadah — at the First Fleet Memorial Gardens. After driving from Delungra, I was hot and bothered and surprised to find a Freedom Camp (campgrounds requiring a small donation while providing showers and toilets). The heat in NSW left me feeling hot and sweaty after driving for hours, so a… Continue reading Road life: A snapshot
Alone in a one horse town
Photo courtesy of Christine Writer It’s 7.25 a.m. I am in Delungra — about thirty kilometres out of Inverell in NSW. I left Glen Innes yesterday because it was time. Arrived here around 4 p.m. One servo. One pub. One church. One café (thats what the aero attendant told me, though I’m unsure where it… Continue reading Alone in a one horse town
Popcorn, chilly scrub and the one star feast
Photo by charlesdeluvio on Unsplash Last night, I joined two friends at the top restaurant in Strahan for a farewell dinner. Shame I can’t say the food was terrific. My lentil soup came with a roll so cold, it must have been thawed straight from the freezer. The potato salad held barely cooked potatoes, the… Continue reading Popcorn, chilly scrub and the one star feast
Standing Stones, Ancient Sorrows
What I didn’t know when I rolled into Glen Innes was how familiar this small town would feel. From about ten kilometres outside its boundary, I felt an ancestral echo I can only describe as familiar — organic, internal. Strange, but something I won’t forget soon. Before arriving, I didn’t know Glen Innes is the… Continue reading Standing Stones, Ancient Sorrows
Reacher vs. Me: A Nomad’s Guide to Not Attracting Trouble –
Eat when you can. Sleep when you can. You never know when you’ll get the chance again. These are the rules one of my favorite characters live by—Jack Reacher* Living on the road, I may not live them by the letter of those rules, but yep, definitely, I might just be living a real-life version.… Continue reading Reacher vs. Me: A Nomad’s Guide to Not Attracting Trouble –
Road Life: Slipping the Moorings —After the Noise, There Is Peace
Six weeks ago, I drove from the other side of Tocumwal (the Victorian side) to Forbes. I passed through Tocumwal, bought a coffee, and fueled up. On the New South Wales side of the border, I felt that familiar sliding sensation— I’d just slipped off the ropes of connection that moored me to a civil… Continue reading Road Life: Slipping the Moorings —After the Noise, There Is Peace
When ‘enough’ means letting go
The art of knowing when to stop holding on Written in my final three weeks at Motel Strahan, when my body began whispering that it was time to go. This morning, I woke with one thought pulsing: three weeks to go. Three weeks until I finish at Motel Strahan. I’ve offered to clean on my last day,… Continue reading When ‘enough’ means letting go
Christine Writer 