Sneak peak at first chapter of ‘Notes From the Bibbulmun’.

Hi.

Please see attached a sneak peak at the novel I’ve been working on for the last three years. I plan to have it finished sometime around October 2019.

Click on the image below to read the pdf.

Thank you.

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Forest clearing on the Bibb track

In July I walked the northern section of the Bibb track and was saddened to see that a large swathe of native forest had been cleared between Ball Creek Hut and Helena Hut. I wanted to wait to make this post to confirm my worst fears that the area was being cleared for pine plantation. Yesterday I walked through there once more, and yes, the Bibb track has changed character forever. The photos below show the huge mulch piles and machinery getting to work to chop up the balga, gum and casuarina that once lived there.

They left one thin tree in order to be able to nail a wagyl triangle on, as shown in the last photo.

Amongst a lot of other thoughts and emotions I find this embarrassing that walkers come from around the world to walk the track and they see the way we treat our native forests.

Yule Brook

Yesterday the government and their workers chopped down more trees in Perth’s wetlands. This time at Yule Brook. Photos below by Paddy Cullen.

 

A while back I went and camped there. Walked thru the wetlands from Kenwick Station and followed Yule Brook to the protest site. The government say that some trees had to be cleared so that others could be saved. The main game and big issue is used to argue for losing small games and small issues, when the main game and big issue has always been the protection of the small. Every tree matters.

While I was there I wrote this poem for my friend John Kinsella. I get depressed very easily. Not just about the environment either. While I camped there under the peppy tree that’s now gone, he and I stayed in contact and he talked me through my sadness.

 

 

Yule Brook

– for John Kinsella

 

Knee deep, Yule Brook leaves mud bits on his sneakers, 

the long distance walker has chewed some chilli,  

the way ‘progress’ chews forest after forest;

we want to annoy our gods to prove they don’t exist. 

 

On the oval the women play football, and the men 

watch the water slide past; murky, grey, grabbing typha, 

pulling the reeds that flick back, that know no bank,

that signal the dragonfly to land. 

 

White power on Roe Highway: Septimus, that surveyor of gods 

gifted roosts, he’s now the swamp nemesis, 

he’s now the ring road that ringbarks what’s left of wetlands,

one to nine he chops down ocean and woodland.  

 

Someone shakes the fence. The lock holds. He throws his head

above the top rung and sees the alley of rivergums, soon to be mulched. 

There are heart-shaped messages tied to the trunks, 

but the storm has loosened the string and moistened the cardboard. 

 

I’ve a photocopy of Kim Scott’s A Most Intelajint Kuriositie, 

and each time I read a page drops fall from the clouds and a wodjalok 

talks with John through a jarrah tree, as a pacific black duck 

takes off from the stream, straight for a state funeral —

 

where the weeping peppy leaves have swept the soil clear,

and they make the coffin smell sweet and the magpies sing 

quoowooloolo, quoowwlolooo 

and their song starts to sound like rail wheels headed for Toodyay.  

 

There’s snails on my sleeping bag, and lightning in the air, 

that’s the canopy spread to take in the spark, to eat the sky, 

half man, half electricity, you’re the giver of horizons, 

an orrery with light for each planet. 

 

 

South West Walking Masterplan Ideas

Been out walking for the last couple of weeks. Had the urge to fly somewhere… somewhere over east or overseas to go walking, and walking, and more walking. And then, as walking will do, I had a different angle and a different idea to pursue. More walks in the south west of Western Australia. I drew up this mud-map that someone might find useful one day.

The image shown is indicative. The black line is the Bibbulmun Track. The red line on the left is the Cape to Cape. The other lines are walk ideas I’m hoping to scope out over the next twelve months. In my opinion, there is a strong desire to boost walking infrastructure at regional levels.

  1. There has almost always been talk of extending the Bibbulmun to Esperance. The red line going to Esperance is there to show that extension. I’m going to see who I can rustle up to walk that with me. (I’m not a fan of coastal and/or beach walking, so I’ll be looking to get off the beach as much as possible.)
  2. A circuit from about Walpole heading up the Shannon River and then heading east over the Stirling range and then following one of the rivers down (Palingup?) to a small town like Wellstead to link back up with the extended Bibb track to Esperance. Walkers can then walk back to Albany if they want.
  3. Extending the southern end of the Cape to Cape to join the Bibbulmun track, probably at Karri Valley resort.
  4. Extending the northern end of the Cape of Cape following a disused rail line into the Ferguson Valley and then up to meet the Collie River at Birkup, from Birkup follow the Collie River to the Wellington Dam and join the Wellington Spur trail that already comes off the Bibbulmun track. [The latter part of this walk I have done three times now and it is excellent]
  5. Extend the northern end of the Bibbulmun track from Kalamunda and connect up with the old walking track that goes to New Norcia via Bells Rapids. From New Norcia follow the Moore River to the coast. Huts along here would be good.
  6. Create a loop from North Bannister where the Bibbulmun crosses Albany Highway and take walkers out to Narrogin where the Avon River starts. Follow the Avon river through York, Northam and Toodyay and ultimately meet up with the extended Bibbulmun track from Kalamunda.

 

If anyone out there finds this post and is inspired, please get in touch. I am always interested to hear from other walkers.

 

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Strip Mining Song

Which key should we sing in?

They’re not listening, John,

no one wants to hear us sing,

the alternative register strategy

hasn’t worked, has fallen on deaf ears,

swooned as the wandoos timbered

and the stage lights were flicked off.

 

By headtorch I sing to you, John

pushing thighs and knees

through xanthorea and zamia leaves,

they’re groping, ears pricked

this pragmatism those billions seem to have,

but not us, no one is listening

the low rumble above the echoing frogs

that’s the tune the piper plays,

the reversing excavator tooting

in the glow of ALCOA’s Huntly operation,

snotty-gobble and dryandra

glow white in the headlamp halation

as I make out, barely, a trail,

a darkened, flattened track

in the controlled burn forest

where no animals live anymore

and I can sing as-out-of-key-as-I-wish

and no one is there to ask:

which register are you coming from?

 

Pellucid stars, please, please

chart some kind of direction,

Canning Hut to White Horse Hills Hut,

walking seventy six k’s, sixteen hours

for John, whose soul is lashing out,

the feet discoloured, bleed:

nature is a language can’t you read?

 

 

 

Clearing Occasions the Fox

The quick brown fox kicks the keyboard,
assesses the noon-tide of rampant roadside clearing,
in the glare, sunglasses-less we stare at one another,
diphthongs pondering the great CAT,
the grader and the excavator, half cut off by topography,
just the cabin visible, driver-less, full of fox fear
as she assesses me, the mounds of fallen trees,
in no-man’s-land, singed by the sun, on the way to Wandering,
counter-to-my-understanding-of-how-foxes-act,
a typo, she shouldn’t be this exposed
as she stands still, searches my soul for a weapon,
as a father commiserates having another fuckin daughter,
the charred fields crenelate in the background,
the gum trees populated with children’s fantasies
and the entire landscape disturbed by thought-foxes,
the transfiguration of culls, those damn trees killing car drivers.

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The Fremantle Press Anthology of Western Australian Poetry

Was lucky enough to have two poems (Little River, and Ode to C.Y. O’Connor) included in The Fremantle Press Anthology of Western Australian Poetry.

The Fremantle Press Anthology of Western Australian Poetry is a comprehensive survey of the state’s poets from the 19th century to today.

Featuring work from 134 poets, and including the work of many WA Indigenous poets, this watershed anthology brings together the poems that have contributed to and defined the ways that Western Australians see themselves.