I Hope the Sun Comes Up Today

Sunrise over Hobart

My home office in Tasmania faces directly east, looking out over the city and the Derwent River.  Regular insomnia finds me many mornings at my desk before sunrise.  The sky is often painted such intense colours that I started taking regular photos, and often the thought would cross my mind “I hope the sun comes up today”.  

The Gordon Dam & Lake Pedder

Of course it’s a ridiculous thought.  I’m sure those wallabies wouldn’t be quietly hopping away after mowing our lawn all night if such a big event had happened.   I’m sure there would have been some sort of warning that the sun wasn’t going to come up, but it does, faithfully, every day, and whenever I think to be aware of it I’m always very grateful.

Another day of the sun coming up over Hobart

Sometimes I wonder about this new generation of kids growing up in this world of i-phones and Facebook, and faster and faster internet; young adults who may have spent not one moment of their lives without the convenience of electricity.  I wonder if they ever take a moment to wonder if it will be there for them when they make their breakfast, go to the bank, turn on their computer.  My guess is that, like the sun coming up each day, they just assume it’ll be there, and with the rate at which we continue to surrender more and more of our lives to our dependence on electricity, the ‘powers that be’ must be assuming the same thing.

But what will we do if the power goes out?  And is anyone paying attention to exactly how fast and how far we will fall if it does for any length of time?  One hopes that the powers that be, whoever they are, will be taking note of the wake up call in the USA this week and see how quickly things fall apart when we don’t have access to the source that drives most of our activities these days.   

Rosie at the Gordon Dam, Lake Pedder (subject of a later post)

When the electricity went out in India a few months ago I immediately thought of the suffering of all those people in the heat, stuck in traffic, trapped underground in a mine that depends on an elevator; all the mothers dealing with children and sick people and the elderly and vulnerable. According to reports, Indians are so used to disruptions and inconvenience that many of them just take it in stride and turn on their generators, but all those people on the east coast of the US suddenly having to cope with all the disruptions of living without modern conveniences are probably feeling it differently.

The Sun going down again, over Mt. Wellington, Hobart

No doubt when the corporations see those images they think of lost profits and productivity.  The only saving grace about it being them who are on watch these days is that they have so much to lose by being without power (no pun intended, but if the shoe fits…) that you have to believe they have it covered, no matter what….don’t they?  They couldn’t possibly allow that to happen in our world, could they? 

And yet I can’t help but wonder if Mother Nature feels compelled to give humans a nudge once in a while, to remind us who’s still ultimately in charge of everything, including whether or not the sun comes up today.

Thanks for listening…

Rosie

A Sanctuary in the Bush

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.

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.   

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.

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. 

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.

www.islandtimetours.net.au

A Jaunt to Bothwell

Downtown Bothwell

A few days ago Izzy the Bus and Island Time Tours headed out for our first Hobart Jaunt of the season.  These “short trips for pleasure” are geared to local seniors wanting to get out and enjoy some of the small towns, events and other Tasmanian treasures around Hobart.

Izzy the Bus at the pub in Bothwell

The oh-so- unpredictable Tasmanian weather looked pretty grim around sunrise but turned on a perfect sunny day for our trip to the historic town of Bothwell, via the Midlands Highway.  The midlands is the grazing district of Tasmania and often looks brown and dry, but thanks to some torrential rain this spring, the landscape was lush and green, with rolling hills dotted with little white lambs and their not-so-white mothers.  

Whisky tasting with the lovely Courtney at Nant Distillery

Bothwell is home to the oldest golf course in Australia which is on a 3500 acre sheep farm.  Golfers have to avoid the sheep while playing and also climb over the fences that are used to protect the greens (which are square) from all the sheep. The town was settled by Scotsman and has a strong Scottish influence besides the golf course, the most significant one being the delightful Nant Whisky Distillery. Set in a beautiful historic property, with an old working watermill and a beautifully designed modern restaurant and tasting room, this is one of several award-winning Tasmanian whiskies of which people all over the world (specially the Scots!) are really taking notice.

Relaxing in the sun at the Nant Distillery

We ate a lovely lunch at the local pub, The Castle Hotel which has that wondrous feature of a sandstone doorway that is actually worn away from all the boots that have passed through over the past 200 years.  It also had a welcoming fire on a mild day that had started out with a heavy frost in the valley where Bothwell is situated, right at the edge of the Central Highlands.

Vase of native blossoms at the Castle Hotel, Bothwell

As is our goal with our Jaunts, there were lots of laughs and connections between old friends and new.  We (not the driver of course!) had some wine with lunch and even a taste of premium whisky afterwards in a perfect setting, before Izzy the Bus carried us all home. 

And just as we pulled into our last stop (as much as possible we offer home drop off on our return to Hobart) the rain started and the change in the weather that had held off all day arrived with a vengeance.  

Thanks for listening…

Rosie

Close Your Eyes and Keep Dancing

Tasmanian morning sky

Writing a blog has been an interesting challenge.  While the editors' voices in my head have always been there, I noticed they were silenced during the period leading up to completing my website and launching my blog.  That was the time when I was so sure about what I was doing that there was simply no room for the voices of critics.  I was writing all over the place - there were blog posts piling up in my head and on my laptop and on the backs of bank receipts.  I couldn't imagine how I'd ever find enough time to write all I had to say.   

Sunrise over Hobart (from my office)

Until it came time to finally do the first post - the one you had to announce to the world was there, ready to read, because you're supposed to do all the right marketing things to let people know about the website.  

And suddenly, the fact that it was actually out there, available to read changed everything.  The editors' voices returned with a vengeance.  

"Ooh I'm not sure you should say that..."  

"Mmm...(tsk tsk) do you think that's quite right?"  

"Are you sure that's the right way to say that?"......and on and on.  Suddenly, I had almost nothing to say, and absolutely no way to say it.  

Izzy the Bus - dozing in the dark!

For all that pre-website time, I felt like I'd been dancing in a dark room, totally tuning in to myself and my own rhythm and spirit and voice.  Then suddenly someone turned the lights on, and there's all these people standing in a circle around me looking disapproving. Needless to say, the flow and integrity of the dancing changes a bit!

Slowly, over the past few weeks though, I'm starting to get more comfortable with it.  For one thing, I still don't know how to put the word out regularly that my blog is up there, so very few people are actually reading it!  But the internal critics' voices are gradually fading and making less of a fuss, because I think I've found the answer...

It's really quite simple - you just close your eyes and keep dancing.

Thanks for listening...