The road less travelled

I am back home after my road trip, travelling just shy of 4000km south to north and back again from Victoria, through NSW and into Queensland on the eastern side of Australia - inland roads for the drive north and coastal roads for the drive south. Only a few weeks, and a large chunk of it hampered by less than ideal weather, though unequivocally sustenance for the soul.

The hikes along the way were a highlight for breath-taking feeding my awe of Nature, but so was the time spent between those "Thoreauesque" moments with wonderful friends and family. The short poem below so eloquently captures why the latter was as enriching as the former.  I will talk a little more about how both aspects of this journey inspire my creative writing.

First, the walks/hikes. A small selection of my photos from the trip are shared below. In order - a view south near Maleny National Park looking at the Glass House Mountains in the Queensland Sunshine Coast Hinterlands; a walk along Old Bar Beach late afternoon just north of Forster in NSW; the same walk the following morning around sunrise; and a walk in the Arboretum around Daisy Hill near Schrivener Dam in Canberra (Australian Capital Territory). I did a few other walks in other national parks along the drive, definitely a road less travelled (my favourite kind).

I mentioned in my last blog how I feel so "in tune" when I am in the middle of nowhere surrounded by the quiet. It is not really quiet. There is something profound even in the silence.  Long drives and hikes open up neuropaths in my mind otherwise distracted by day-to-day thoughts traffic. I have the space to let myself be filled with wonder, overflowing from the brim.

When I am walking with others, the conversations about what we are seeing around us and seemingly unrelated things flow more freely.  Only the molecules in the air are there to hear the words spoken, often also left unspoken, as the senses are overwhelmed with a stereophonic musical symphony. Seeing, hearing, smelling, touching, tasting the surrounding beauty.  The scents of wild flowers and the rustles in the trees peak curiosity as if they were the secret to life itself. When there is a breeze blowing, the leaves dance like tiny ballerinas and sing as fine as a choral hymn in perfect rhythm and harmony. These are the details that matter. The details that mean everything.

When I am walking alone, I know I lose a little something - that shared experience of connecting with Nature together with others as fond of flora and fauna as much as I am. But I gain as much, if not more, to pause without purpose, to take my time, to explore something glimpsed from the corner of my eye as I stop and breathe the air, to sit still for long stretches and let all manner of forest creatures seek me out or even ignore me entirely as they do their thing. The odd curious bird game enough to stare from their chosen perch only inches away, and warble a greeting to welcome me into their space.  The texture of everything is sharper, even in rain or fog - it is technicolour glory. These are the details our senses were designed to savour. The details encompass all.

This is what it means to feel whole.

Second, the moments spent with wonderful friends and family. Smaller pleasures and shared experiences (rather than large, adrenalin rush experiences) bringing me, friends, family and others the type of joy and gratitude that would glow as bright as (and with the longevity of) Plutonium if it were possible to capture the radiating energy burning with such unadulterated love. The heat of a thousand suns. Glowing happiness, or as a new friend recently described it to me - conscious euphoria. With family, it's a common sense of humour anchored on seeing vagary and absurdism in surrounding situations and being willing to laugh together in sharing the whimsy to lighten the mood and embrace that chaos. With friends, whether short of space intense friendships or life-long soulmates, it's knowing the worst thing about each other and still loving who we are each and together, warts and all. Authentic. It's the friend, once lover, you haven't seen in a half a dozen years yet you talk together for hours as if the thread between you both can never be broken. The passage of time is meaningless. What is will always be, was always meant to be. Connected for life.

This is what it means to feel loved and to love.

So, I am enriched from my long drive, my hikes, and my time spent with people who matter to me. My urge to write is profound. It really is as simple as that.

Road trip inspiration

My week past has been spent communing with nature - a little "Thoreauesque" - in mostly wide-open spaces and sub-tropical forests - the winning hikes along the long drive heading north on this trip have been the Warrumbungle National Park (near Coonabarabran) - which was also a favourite when I used to live in Canberra because of the observatory there - and the New England National Park. I feel so 'in-tune' when I am in the middle of nowhere surrounded by the quiet. I am pleased to have managed these modest hikes as either side of these few days have involved some serious flood inducing rainfall. The current rains have curtailed the second leg of my trip so will be continuing my writing sabbatical indoors in the next few days.

I was asked before I hit the road to come up with a poem or short story idea inspired by a tree photograph that reminded me of a nerve system. 

The words started taking shape in my mind a little way out of Parkes, just as I was spotting "The Dish", and the images fully formed by the time I arrived in Dubbo (an overnight stop). This is why I love long drives (and hikes) - it opens up neuropaths in my mind otherwise distracted with day-to-day thoughts traffic - and the words just flow free. 

I have gone with a theme of new friends in this poem. Friendships as they grow and evolve can be very enriching. It's called Possibilities.

It started with a single yes.
A spark ignited.
Possibilities. Endless.
Every fibre, every nerve.
Every breath.
Thick and thin.
Buzzing with anticipation.
Blood pumping
beating hearts cascading.
Exploring every root and branch.
Blossoming paths in any direction.
Climb up, slide down.
Leaping from limb to limb.
Discovering something new and unexpected
together
in the intertwining budding lines and spaces.
Exhilaration reaching for the sky.

(While not the specific photo I used for the inspiration, I've posted a colour version taken a month later from a slightly different angle because it symbolises the growth theme captured in the poem.)