On the Road Again

Ten months is a long while for a once-regular blogger to be without a muse. Now, I’m not saying the muse has returned but we are on the road again and there is much to tell. In fact we’ve lived a lifetime in a parallel universe so let me back track.

Home away from Home

Regular readers when there is something to read will know we sold our home in May 2018 and spent twelve months on the road. Our Holden Colorado towing the Coddiwomple – a nifty Jurgens Sungazer caravan. Up and down the east coast we travelled until we found the coastal village of Lake Conjola, where we purchased a home in May 2019. We love it there, it was a good decision and we settled into village life.

Home, in Lake Conjola, May 2019

That was until Australia and the bushfires took centre stage of not only our world but of the world’s for a few weeks. The news focussed on the trauma and destruction that only bushfires can wreak. The coverage was dramatic and sensational, yet there are stories of background heroes. Stories untold because with so much trauma and destruction comes humility.

Better days in Conjola

The single road access to the villages takes us past the blackened debris of bush and homes. Where houses and histories have collapsed under roofs. Where the only part of a home still standing is a brick chimney. Burnt letterboxes sag atop charred posts while memorabilia rests forever in ash. There is no escaping the constant reminder of what we have lived through, of what others have lost.

Overlooking homes to the fast approaching fire

The firestorm that tore through the village on New Year’s Eve razed eight-nine homes. Three people died. That is a huge cost to a village whose population is 500. Our stories meld when we are community and in community we are strength and hope-filled and above all encouraging and compassionate with one another. Even though we will be away from our community it remains a time of healing and rebuilding. Baby steps.

On the road again

We left home on Thursday and spent the first night at Jugiong a small town we had stopped several years ago to find ourselves in the middle of a military parade.

Overlooking Jugiong where we did an overnight camp on the Murrumbidgee River

The open road is just that, long, often straight as an arrow stretching beyond the dried horizon. We are listening to Markus Zusak narrate his latest novel Bridge of Clay as the miles fly past and when he’s having a break our Spotify playlists entertain us. Yesterday’s list included Lobo to remind us of me and you and a dog named Boo (I always wanted a dog named Boo), followed by Buddy Holly, Chuck Berry, Elvis, and we rocked around the clock with Bill Haley and His Comets. Of course Rod Stewart made it onto the list as did The Drifters and so many other pop stars from days gone by. Wilson Pickett and the Union Gap was a blast from the past, in fact the entire playlisted reminded us Those were the days my friend we thought they’d never end.

Lunch at Cootamundra

Ten months is a long time waiting for a muse, so I am back again and writing. I plan to show up each day to complete a journal entry and post a blog once or twice a week as we continue our lap of Australia.

It’s been a long time and I wonder how you are. I will be prioritising the WordPress Reader and hope to catch up with many of you in the times ahead. It is good to be writing again.

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