Horse Stepping

I was counting the days. Work was done.

Those days. They all folded together….

People were bailing. Cramming their backpacks, their cars, and heading to the next great thing. It was sometimes sad, but we’d seen a lot of turnover throughout the season and I wasn’t far off myself.

Half the kitchen were getting into the fitness program again. Some had a couple more months to go. Some are still rocking out the Wet season with the skeleton crew.

I told Chef Karl that I’d fallen in love. He asked me “Who?”. I didn’t know her name. It was a image taken by a photographer called Mike Brodie. I described a filthy train-jumper with her skirt pulled up, a disgusted look on her face, tattoo’d knuckles and a blood stain on her underwear. He shook his head and told me I was a fucking disgrace.

I laughed and walked back to the bar for a few more Campari’s.

 

 

 

Liminal deity

Reeling. A couple of hours sleep. Stinking of smoke. Shattered, strungout and a little stoned. I pulled out of the 5 mile driveway and began the shortest leg of the longest drive.

I was going back East. The first days drive was the hardest. I nodded off behind the wheel a couple of times. I made it to a long white empty beach, saw a small shore-break. I thanked Hermes that I’d made it without flipping the Magna and called it a day. 

Waves don’t get much prettier than when they break over white sand.

It sucked to leave my home of six months. All the mates I’d made and good times had were left in the red dirt my bald wheels kicked up behind me.

It was a melancholy time.

1629: Funky Adventure Times

That lifeguard shack and the left behind it. I remembered seeing photos of it in advertisements in old surfing magazines in the 90’s. The Search. Rip Curl.

The first whitefellas to see it break were most likely a couple of Dutch mutineers who were dropped off on the back beach around the corner.

In 1629.

I doubt they surfed. Its a stunning area though and I imagine it to have been rich and plentiful in natural offerings. They had a fighting chance.

I think of all the thousands of miles of Western Australian coast you could be dropped off on with nothing but your wits, this area might’ve been one of the better places going.

Fly Terrine