From here on we noticed an interesting phenomenon:
The flies were thick! Though I found it difficult, my secret weapon is the way they taught me an amazing lesson about living under a set of assumed rights instead of under authority. Greg hasn't yet had that privilege, so he was nearly going insane after 20-30min.
It was then that I recalled the fly net I was given for Christmas, by Mum. Grego tried that (& his coat)
untill it got too hot under the extra clothing with "a tropical sub-climate", and they had probably slightly reduced in numbers.
(repeated below
so you get the drift-
poem-ish thingo
to help our minds lift..
it grew on our walk
& right up till now..
I'll pop in the cork
to slow it right down):
"The flies are thick!"
he said, "and fast!"
"Like, they're quick,
and - Oh be blast!...
the flies are thick!
don't mean they're dumb-
"thick as a brick",
though there are some...
don't mean they're broad,
or extra wide.
The flies are thick!
-can't be denied,
for when you clap
your hands in air
there's a fly chap
(or chap-ess) there.
and just now, greg's
applause brought 10
black dots upon
his paws but when
he wiped them off
and tried agin
the flies stayed thick
and did not thin.
For when one died
ten more came in
from every side
you could not win!
And so I say
with Grego here
"The flies are thick"
-so all ain't clear!
(I'd say there's more
from where that came,
for when we saw
the C-park dame
she said "Too bad,
for you just now,
the flies are thick
because somehow
the South bushfires
have made this smoke
which drove the flies
which nearly choke
us all here now,
and stops the views,
been such a row-
& on the news!
- but stranger yet
was when we went
off to erect
our newish tent
of thin gauze mesh
(up to the sky),
and then Greg's ques-
-tion; "Where's the fly?"
I grabbed it hence,
the thought came quick:
compared to tents,
"the flies are thick!"
We followed the abandoned rail-line for a while, I got a little better at ballancing walking on one rail. Greg's foot started hurting a bit much, maybe from the big bits of blue-metal between the sleepers so we abandoned that after 30min.
We stopped for morning tea at maybe 9:30 or 10:00 at Doctor's Rocks beach where we checked out our route - we decided to go through Wynyard, not around it. With Greg's sore foot we might even stay there tonight, and then probably also Sun also. I also took my shoes off and bathed the swelling and blisters in the refreshing cold Bass strait water.- lovely! - then we apportioned our Mark stories for the day.
We checked our way with a lady doing her morning walk about 10:30 on Sat morning & she walked with us for a km explaining the town, the whereabouts of the 2 Caravan parks, & "churches that weren't too wierd". We had passed one C-park on the S.E. edge, so we would continue to the central one, near Woolies etc...
We booked in for one night, (& possibly two), put up the tent, had a 1hr break with feet up, went shopping for two days, came back and rested, told 2 lots of stories (hoping to finish the third tomorrow morning), had an argument -of sorts, about people feeling wrongly judged etc. Had a yummy meal, and into bed about 7:30-8pm. That's when I tried this blog again...
No comments:
Post a Comment