fishing

OOOps wrong image ..
Dunno where the days have gone, really.
The sun comes up from the middle of a distant, easterly barley-field stubble .. and disappears into the slightly curved, ultramarine horizon, occasionally flecked by distant merry whitecaps on a jocular sea.
I don't DO much, actually. A ramble along the dune-tops, amazed by the stunted, tough, hardy, spindly spiked vegetation who inhabit this area; surviving on dew, seaspray (and the occasional piss). Have dug down a bit to see if I could discover the true source of their sustenance and survival .. but have only discovered sand, drier than a Temperance Union Sunday breakfast.
One of the problems at the moment is a distancing from christian calendars. Had no idea that last weekend incorporated a “holiday” Monday (tho am bemused to note that that “holyday” was for a city horserace – apparently lobbied for and won from the State Gummint some time ago by the the local jockey club because “South Australia had one less public 'holiday'” than the rest of the States (fully supported, of course, by the Labour Unions) .. Oh Well .. heh. At this point of my life – every day is a “holy day”.
I was, however, somewhat premature when I wrote last Thursday about “solitude”.
Anyway, as of last Freya's day afternoon, and Saturn's day morn my “solitude space” was interspersed with 10 or so other tribal groupings – including one tribal group with 3 4X4's, two tents, a camper trailer, 5 trail bikes, two quad bikes who spent most of the next three days raising hell dust around the campsite.
Was up in Moonta a couple of days ago for supplies and casually mentioned it to the bar-person. “Oh yer,” he tells me, “on long weekends we're inundated with city people, so the locals go down the coast to escape.” Mmm, whatever.
Did, however, get to say hello to a bloke who unpacked his camper-trailer about 20 yards in front of the van.
[Curious thing – this area is, to all appearances – “uncontrolled” and yet there is very little litter – what there is I collect. I feel “safe” here, for all its isolation.
The only evidence of “local council” interest is a new sign-post with new concrete footings about 1k up the track proclaiming “Cape Elizabeth Conservation Area. Day use only” .. and an adjacent area on the map that says “Gynburra Narungga Aboriginal Land”. May their Spirits long be present.]
Another thought. What IS “natural” spacing? Everybody here seemed to camp about 22 yards away – the length of a cricket pitch? As far as a normal male can throw a fist sized rock?
All that being as it may – am, for all the “isolation” am untroubled by passers-by or other campers. If I believe myself unobserved, wander the dunes naked.
(the weather for this past week has been superb. Warm enough to wander naked, not hot enough to render a body prostrate or burnt to a crisp. Could I survive here unaided? Interesting question. Funny, really, have just finished reading “Naked under Capricorn” by Olaf (?).)