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| The "little cabin" that Dad built |
A few days ago we spent some time at my family’s cabin in the
bush – a night away from the noise and bustle that even a city the size
of Hobart creates. There were still a
few daffodils left – an amazing sight in such an incongruous setting out in the
middle of the bush, seemingly miles from nowhere. And yet all around the rustic log cabins are
clumps of bright yellow and white, and shades in between, looking perfectly
comfortable and cheerful in the midst of giant eucalypts and blackwoods and
scrubby wattle trees.
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| yurt and outdoor bathtub |
The property has no electricity and we ran out of propane
within an hour of arriving so we cooked over an outside fire and used the
woodstove that heats the bathwater to boil our tea kettle.
The quiet simplicity of life in the bush calls
to me in this ever-confusing and overwhelming age of technology – I love the
ritual of filling in the log book with mundane information about the weather
and the level of the water in the dams, and checking the rain gauge and
recording the rainfall since the last time someone visited. And nothing can quite compare to the
sensation of sinking into an outdoor bathtub of hot water to the warbly chatter
of a flock of parrots fluttering in the blackwood trees overhead.
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| sandstone chimney of original homestead |
Upon leaving in the early afternoon, I decided that we
needed to check out a place I’d been meaning to visit for years. One of those places that you see the sign for
and drive by hundreds of times and always say to yourself “I must go there some
day”. Well our someday was today and we
called the caretaker to ask if we could stop by and visit.
Chauncy Vale Wildlife Sanctuary is in Bagdad, a 45 minute
drive north of Hobart which was home to one of Tasmania’s most beloved
writers. Nan Chauncy wrote one of my
(and many other people’s) favourite children’s books “They Found a Cave” the
story of four orphaned siblings who are sent from England during WW II to live
with their aunt in Tasmania. When she
falls ill, they are left in the care of her evil property caretaker who drives
them to go and hide out in a secret cave in the hills behind the farm while
they wait for their aunt’s return. It’s
a classic story of good vs. evil, and ingenuity and redemption.
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| The log cabins in the bush including the "big cabin" that we built |
The caretaker of Chauncy Vale greeted us warmly, and
generously showed us through the old house where Nan wrote all her books by oil
light on an old typewriter. The cottage has
been left just as it was, with a sleep-out porch and a concrete laundry wash
tub with an old hand wringer and an ancient cookstove and outhouse. Nan had said that she loved the quiet of the
place, with no sound but the gentle snoring of dogs by a crackling log
fire.
I’ve often said that about the log cabins in the bush a few
valleys over from Chauncy Vale; that without the constant hum of electricity,
you can hear the quiet and pay attention to the gentle sounds of nature and,
even some mornings, the beat of your own heart.
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| Blackwood blossoms |
I was glad I listened to my heart telling me today was the
day to check out this magical place, as we’d been wanting to do one of our
“Hobart Jaunts” out here and it turned out to be perfect. We could see the cottage and gardens, and
have a barbeque and walk the trails, including, for the more energetic, the one
to the secret cave up in the hills that inspired so many children’s
imaginations.
It turns out that the caretaker Maree, had just been
thinking she’d like to have more people come and see the place and she wondered
if there was someone out there who could provide transport and might like to
work on creating opportunities for more people to experience its magic. And a few days later, we showed up. As Maree said, "there’s no such thing as
coincidence…"
Thanks for listening…
Rosie
PS. All the photos are of 'our' cabin in the bush.
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