(cursive by helenZ & block by a … z …)

Saturday 12/4/03. We were on the road by 10.15 in bright sunshine, and dropped in to
see Dennis Spiteri at Hill Crest in Highlands. He is still waiting for architects to finish the
plans for his studio. Margaret has gone to China with a tour group despite the SARS
scare, as the money for the tickets was not refundable. I hope she has a great time and
good on her for helping to keep the airlines and China afloat in these troubled times. We
drove cross country along mainly unsealed roads to the Ruffy Reserve where we have
eaten and will spend the night, listening to Collingwood play Geelong and watching the
great scenery – rolling hills, vineyards, cattle studs. The higher country was cooler and
cloudier, and though the rain we’ve had in Melbourne also fell here, its still really dry-
looking. Before Dennis we stopped at the Strath Creek pub for a drink and the paper-
reading session, where a group of blokes were listening to C&W music, drinking and
playing pool. The publican looked harrassed – he’d had them yesterday too. The xcuse
4 cracking a bottle of Fruit Ballad Lavender & Apple Dessert Wine is that its the
1st night out & the Magpies beat Geelong. The win also means that the next time I
meet Dr Gintas K (another Gintas I know has xp&ed liter@ure by translating the
1st Chopper Reed book in2 litho) @ litho house in Errol st he has 2 buy me a jug of
beer. The quicker we sign off on Melbourne the better. Got 2 congratulate Rod
Cooper (spoonbill, skate) & Carolyn Connors (melodica, ukelele, accordion, voice
(like Lauren Newton) & Ronny Farella (drums) & Anthony Schultz (accordion) 4
the music @ the Make It Up Club on tuesday. It was great. Tom reckoned it should
have been recorded. But mayb the urge 2 have it @ your beck & call comes from a
contradictory im-
pulse 2 the mprovising urge. I njoy coming across things unxpectedly. It confirms
my xperience that the best things r free. The book Ive brought is a collection of
ssays by John Berger called ‘The Shape of a Pocket’ (Vintage 2003). It was lent 2
me by Chris Broughton who works @ Parkhill Cellars opposite litho house. Im on a
winner there. I xchange lifeless cash 4 good spirits & get lent books by Chris who
knows far more bout the literary & rt scene than I do. As the old Omar said : “And
much as Wine has playd the Infidel, / And robb’d me of my Robe of Honour – well /
I often wonder what the Vintners buy / One half so precious as the Goods they
sell.” (lights r on, cork pulled, glass poured (we share it), tastes good). Chris lent
the book on thursday & Ive almost finished it but its not al2gether 2 my taste. I
find Berger 2 b 2 much an rtist. “One of the unpardonable sins, in the eyes of most
people, is for a man to go about unlabelled. The world regards such a person as
the police do an unmuzzled dog, not under proper control” according to T.H. Hux-
ley (1825 – 95) in ‘Evolution and Ethics’ (1893) but its what I prefer. Oh yes, me &
H took part in the last peace rally walking under the quakers (I think there were 4
of them (2 holding the banner) & us) banner which read QUAKERS SAY NO TO ALL
WARS. The other banners that caught my eye were NOT IN MY NAME (under sign
of dove of peace) & COWARDS WAR. My mum has made a couple of correc-tions 2
my memory in the last pieces I put out : it wasnt the italians who saved me from
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being consumed by worms but the IRO hospital in the Bagnoli camp (see
‘February 24’ p.16) & I shouldnt have pointed the finger @ the yanks 4 allowing me
2 view the needle they were going 2 puncture me eardrum with being heated over
a bunsen burner (see ‘March 11’ p.6). It was done in an ordinary german hospital.
Sunday 13/4/03. In the pub @ Whitfield (see ‘11/11/02 – 20/11/02’ p.2) but
mentally I still havent left Melbourne. A week or so ago Lance Morton (from whom
I buy shoes & we dscuss where weve bn; when in response 2 his query I told him
the orign of me name he said he had known a litho once by the name of Vic
Klimas who had tried his darndest 2 race off his girlfriend – Vic was best man @
mine & Hs wedding) nsisted I write down what I had said 2 him bout parental
direction 2 children. He was most mphatic & actually came out of the shop 2
make the point. I am not sure I have an accurate memory of our conversation
which was in 2
parts. I h&ed over 1 of my written pieces (hot off the press across the road) 2 him
in the shop & somehow the conversation turned 2 kids (probably coz parents r
always talking bout them) & Lance said that he woz nvolved in a contest of wills
with his daughter who (mayb) woz in her final year @ school. That must have
tripped 1 of my wires coz it set me off burbling on bout how I dont give advice but
then I remembered that I had in fact done the standard thing of advising my own
kids against taking drugs (particularly pot, LSD, & amphetamines as I have rea-
son 2 blieve from very limited personal xperience & my reading subsequent 2 a
breakdown that they ndangered my equilibrium & there woz every possibility of
them having nherited a similarly susceptible neurological chemistry) & urged
them 2 get those bits of paper that allow them 2 write letters after their names
(coz society rewards u 4 them byond their merit & pnalizes u 4 not having em).
These days Im dsinclined 2 advise (but Montaigne gave advice on everything from
how 2 educate, 2 dalliance, manners, dplomacy (etc) on the premise that if ultim-
ate truths are unknowable (his main thesis) all that is left is advice & xample) &
rarely do. Sometimes though I feel as if Im pressured 2 respond & in those situa-
tions I am nclined 2 hedge it (I have no ideology against offering it) with so many
qualifications that its probably useless. I cant remember what I said b4 I walked
out of the shop but it woz likely along the lines that kids already know what you
might have 2 say as their knowledge of parents is more ntimate than of any1 else
& that since all of us, ncluding our kids, have something in us that is irreducible
which cannot b reached by others we have no way of knowing if our advice is ap-
plicable. Later as I was doing the shopping I had an uncom4table feeling that I
had failed 2 xpress myself & then it came 2 me with some 4ce that there woz a
way of saying it clearly. I went back in2 his shop 2 tell Lance that all that woz
needed from parents in giving direction 2 children woz the xample of a life, es-
pecially of how they cope with adversity. That woz the sum of it & Im giving an
account as requested.Yesterday at Dennis’ place we walked over to his neighbours
fence to look at some baby alpacas – very engaging little beasts with big eyes and long
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gangly legs. Today on the road between Mansfield and Whitfield we spotted some female
Samba deer in the brush on the verge - they stood and watched us watching them, as
kangaroos do, before trotting off into heavier cover. We stopped at Mansfield to buy the
paper & for me to use the ATM, and then spent a very indulgent 3-4 hours at the
Whitfield pub where the meals are gourmet-style, reading the paper and eating. We had
2 tapas dishes : lamb and olive meatballs with a spicy yoghurt dipping sauce, and
mushrooms fried in olive oil, both accompanied by locally made ciabatta bread, flanking
a pizza (“Bushman’s with the lot”) with shaved ham, salami, mushrooms, olives, tomato
and cheese on a thin Italian style crispy base. All washed down with beer and wine (him)
and coffee /lemon squash/water (me). I then rounded it off with another coffee
accompanied by 2 long, thin, hard and very tasty biscotti. Who said you cant be a yuppie
in the bush? Andrew at Idibidi in Brunswick St. couldn’t have produced a more ravishing-
sounding menu which included trout among other goodies. The food cost $27 for the 2 of
us, so it wasn’t outrageous, and John generously footed the entire bill. The pub itself was
very swish too – a big outdoor shaded verandah area on one side and a big lawn area of
tables on the other, as well as a comfortable bar area warmed by an open fire, and a
more formal dining room inside. Very impressive. This area (the King River valley) is very
pretty and looks quite prosperous with vineyards and tobacco being the main crops
visible. There were at least 4 vineyards along the road from the pub to the William Hovell
Reservoir at the head of the valley – Pizzini, Francesca, another Italian one, and one
Aussie one. We are camped for the night on a track which leads to the river off the
Whitfield-Cheshunt road. Its been a dreamy sort of day, as the autumn mists have been
hanging about the hills. Theres been the odd shower, so everything is covered in little
globules of water – it must be a great feeling for the trees, grass and birds to be wet
again after so long a dry spell. Last night we cracked a Fruit Ballad wine, which was
delicious but which made me drunk almost instantly after 1and a bit small glasses. John
is lucky he married such a cheap drunk. (9.30pm sitting in the car stark naked
(27/4/03. This gives me an oppor-tunity 2 nterpolate the words of a song I made up
a few years back when we were stuck 4 days on the bank of the Murrumbidgee
just outside Maud in NSW. It is sung 2 the melody of the litho song Medziu Lapai
Zemen Krito & the refrain is also from that song :

Camped bside a black clay track

it pelted down for 3 days flat.
Hei daliu lija, dalui dalui lija
it pelted down for 3 days flat.

Bloody big branch right overhead

if it drops well both b dead.
Hei daliu lija, dalui dalui lija
if it drops well both b dead.

Dont get your knickers in a knot

Im doin me best but I aint god.
Hei daliu lija, dalui dalui lija
Im doin me best but I aint god.
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 Sittin in the car, bustin for a shit
its pissin down & the mud is thick.
Hei daliu lija, dalui dalui lija
its pissin down & the mud is thick.

Bhind a tree a jobs been done

mud round ankles, burrs in bum.
Hei daliu lija, dalui dalui lija
mud round ankles, burrs in bum.

Why did I dcide 2 camp

down along the river bank?
Hei daliu lija, dalui dalui lija
down along the river bank.

You can keep your cockatoos

river red gums, kangaroos.
Hei daliu lija, dalui dalui lija
river red gums, kangaroos.

Had enough of the Murrumbidgee

stuff the cod, bugger the fishing.
Hei daliu lija, dalui dalui lija
stuff the cod, bugger the fishing.
) waiting 4 a break in
the rain with the head torch on, spade & toilet paper ready). Words r xtensions &
elaborations of our physicality. (14/4/03. As the chemical signals that ants com-
municate with r of theirs). Think of the most basic words then think of a babys
scream, a cats purring, a yelp of pain of dog or man, a roar of anger, howling ding-
oes, a hymn. Another reason why advice 2 children is meaningless (or @ the least
redundant) is that having issued from us & then bn joined 2 us in dminishing xtent
(sometimes having trouble separating) 4 many years they know us @ levels pre-
ceding language. Children know parents far better than parents can ever hope 2
know them bcoz their knowing us bgins from a clean slate (tabula rasa) (26/4/03.
Kahil Gibran said something similar in “The Prophet” – Your children are not your
children. / They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself. / They come
through you but not from you, / And though they are with you, yet they belong not to
you. / You may give them your love but not your thoughts. / For they have their own
thoughts. / You may house their bodies but not their souls, / For their souls dwell in the
house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams. / You may strive to
be like them, but seek not to make them like you. / For life goes not backward nor tarries
with yesterday. ) where-as our knowledge of them is superimposed on2 what has
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already bn 4med in us. We know our parents as we know the past but we know
our children no better than we guess the future. (made it! Will continue 2morrow.)
Monday 14/4/03. (Yackandandah pub 2.35) If we accept the proposition that in
every1 of us there is a component that is unique & irreducible (if it proves useful
4 discussing hu-man affairs over time people will think of it as an aspect of
character, almost tangible, mayb located in a particular place (eg. the brain) as
has happened with such words as ego, id, the subconscious, soul (etc)) then let
us also accept the likelihood that we perceive the world differently (2 me its
obvious from the differ-ences in peoples appearances (as r the similarities
btween them which r more fundamental & mportant eg. we all have 2 legs, 2
arms, 1 nose, 1 head) & I sug-gest that when Oscar Wilde says “ It is only shallow
people who do not judge by appearances” he is saying much the same as Goethe
is when he says “Do not, I beg you, look for anything behind phenomena. They are
themselves their own lesson.”) – a testable consequence (science overcomes the
problem by agreeing on dfinitions, & adoption of hard & fast conventions of usage
& measurement). It is evident 2 me that our children nterpret the xample set by
their parents through their own ndividual prisms. What suits 1 in a parents xample
may b dtrimental 2 a sibling. The mportant thing is 2 underst& that it is only they
who r capable of knowing which aspect of our xample is relevant 2 them. When
parents dish out verbal advice it is bcoz they blieve it is they that know better.
Bcoz my dad off-ered advice so rarely (always practical such as marry some1 who
can cook) I think I remember everything he ever said & time proved him 2 have bn
mistaken on every occasion. (26/4/03. I can cook! It’s just that I don’t do it very often,
so I lack practice.) The heated dsagreements I had now & again with my mum were
also confirmed by the passage of time. Yet the love of nature which is my legacy
from my father & the literary habit I nherit from my mums xample have been mar-
ried in me in a way I consider 2 b ssential. I regret that my own xample is pro-
bably of no value 2 my kids (but only they can judge). I lead a life that is far re-
moved from the normative centre & though there is no 1 that I have seen in
whose shoes Id prefer 2 b than in my own I would not wish my nxieties & nstab-
ilities on any1. Self assessment is probably a waste of time : we have 2 much of a
vested nterest in the process 2 b able 2 see ourselves as others do, but I conti-
nue on. The most consistent trait I am able 2 dtect in myself is a lifelong habit of
dm&ing that authority provide proof of its credentials & then of rejecting them. As
I sit here writing I am unable 2 recall a single nstance of having mbarked on a
course of action in response 2 advice (with the xeption of the teachings of the
nazarene). Since my kneejerk reaction is 2 reject authority (please note, Lance) I
feel on further reflection that I am dsqualified from offering advice. was woken up
about 10pm last night by John rummaging about under my bed, clunking boxes and
scraping things – he was retrieving his headlamp & the shovel so he could see to some
serious business. He also put the overhead light on. Just as he was about to venture out
it bucketed down, so he waited a bit longer till it eased off and opened the door once
5
more, the signal for it to pour even harder. So he said “Well, in situations like this there
are just no options, so I’ll have to sit here and …” at which point I had the horrible
thought that he was going to do the deed in the van! But he finished by saying “…write
till it stops”. Phew! After a while he did make it out into the night and came back well
rained on. There was a lot of thunder and lightning about and the stream was gurgling
louder this morning. Went to Beechworth along as many minor roads as possible, coming
across the old Everton Station which is now a stopping point for bicyclists using the
Wangaratta – Beechworth ex-railway line, now a well finished bike path. Read the paper
over coffee at the Beechworth Bakery amid a constant turnover of travellers. They use a
gadget which flashes, vibrates or beeps to let you know when your order is ready – very
high tech. I suppose its genteeler than giving you half a raffle ticket and screeching your
number above the din like they used to do in pubs for counter lunches in the good old
days. However this new fangled method can be confused with mobile phone rings and
the noise trucks make when they reverse. Bought two Nepalese hand made note books
at the Gem & Opal shop (I’d bought some there on the first trip we did in this area a
couple of years ago), where they have some great fossils & heaps of terrific gemstones.
Then off to Yackandandah for John’s entry, done in the lounge of the pub over beers
(him) & squash (me). Now we’ve had dinner and will sleep in a high spot in a state forest.
There’s an army group bivouacking below us, so we’re safe from terrorists and WMDs.
Rang Dan this morning at Beechworth to ask him to let the Kabailas know we are on the
road and won’t be back till just before term starts. He said there was 20ml. in the rain
gauge and that he was doing a Levi jeans TV ad. shoot at 3pm (29/4/03. Apparently its
already on telly during the Big Brother show on channel 10. No chance of me
seeing it as Ive not even seen an episode of a soapy let alone a show like that).
No sign of Sandra’s baby yet. Tuesday 15/4/03. Also I am not nclined 2 see
myself as offering an xample 4 any1 coz I have a poorly dveloped sense of self.
(26/4/03. I’m gobsmacked! I’ve always thought that I’ve never met anyone with such a
strong sense of self !) (when I see a flag @ached 2 a car or on a pole in a yard I
think whats wrong with that guy). I agree with Oscar Wilde (1854-1900 in a letter
2 Lord Alfred Douglas) that “Most people are other people. Their thoughts are
someone else’s opinions, their life a mimicry, their passions a quotation.” I have
no notion of who I am or where I should b going other that Im on a path (pada) of
some kind. I rely on H 2 tell me if Ive bn 2 abrasive or agg-ressive in company. I
like it that way. Nevertheless it feels as if Ive been alloc-ated a number of briefs 1
of which is 2 nvestigate the claims of authority. The nazarene said that our
relationship 2 god was as a fathers 2 son. That is 2 b xpected as our notions of
god or whatever authority we replace him with (eg. mammon, xperts, technology,
presidents, pop stars) r an xtension (projection) of the parent/child relationship
in2 the organized life. It is evident that there has 2 b a neurological prdsposition 2
accept drection otherwise it would not b possible 4 parents 2 raise children.
When we bcome adults the same circuitry (undoubtedly more dveloped in humans
than other creatures bcoz of the longer dpendency of the young on parenting)
prdsposes us 2 accept the assurances of our govrnmnts however prposterous
they may b (eg. that we know something bcoz of US ntel-ligence but its origins
cant b dsclosed in order 2 protect the sources; that parents throw their children

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in2 the sea 2 gain ntry in2 a better country). We r born 2 b led (29/4/03. by the
nose & we want it). The complexity of our social organization is made possible
only by our capacity 2 accept drection on trust. If we were nclined not 2 blieve
road signs without 1st having proof of their accuracy we wouldnt get from a 2 b.
Our leaders skip so easily btween nvoking ‘the people’ or ‘god’ 2 just-ify their
dcisions on our b1/2 bcoz what both words share in common is that they r being
used (usage is all) as a principle of ndorsement (legitimizing) (worth noting here
that though mohammeds verses were nspired by the 1 god he himself had 2
report them in arabic; & though the god of moses spoke with a larynx made of sky
& air & a smoky breath moses had 2 report the utterances 2 his people in heb-
rew). Leaders, b they religious or secular, have 2 nvoke a higher authority not
accessible 2 the rest so we do not judge them solely by appearances or on their
record (27/4/03. In the final analysis it is on the basis of their record in the here &
now that we accept their claims of having got it from the god of out there &
byond). But I have learnt 2 dstrust authority. I judge the claims of such as How-
ard, Bush, Rumsfeld, Sharon, Arafat, Hussein, Blair, Osama solely by how they
look & what they do (which are closely related) & by how many WMDs they own.
Walked a little way along a track on the hill we spent the night on, down to some old
gold diggings and someone’s ex-holiday shack (newish and unfinished) (27/4/03. I
reckon it woz bilt by the rmy blokes practicing their sur-vival skills). They were
going to face the one-room place with local stone and had one wall completed when
they must have got their marching orders from the State Forest authority. A bit further
away was a grotto they’d excavated from a rock wall, big enough for two people to stand
up in. Then on to Stanley, through a stretch of burnt forest in the hills. Things are
greening up already though – the surviving trees are covering themselves from the
ground up in a layer of soothing leaves, and there were tree ferns (vivid emerald) along
a stretch of exposed creek. “Under the spreading chestnut tree, the village smithy
stands” and “Oh, chestnut tree, great rooted blossomer” ( a jelly bean for all those who
can identify the authors) are the only lines I know featuring chestnuts, brought to mind
as we passed through Stanley and surrounds, which must be the chestnut capital of
Victoria. They were everywhere – as commercial plantations, street trees and
ornamental garden specimens. You wouldn’t starve in Stanley. On to Myrtleford where
we picked up the paper and then to Bright along its highway avenue of glowing
autumnal trees. Just out of Myrtleford John spotted a walnut tree growing close to a
fence, which allowed him to repeat his previous larceny outside Stanley which also has a
few walnut farms, in slower and less furtive fashion, and to indulge his childhood
memories of walnut hunting around Sale. I hadn’t realized how prolific walnut trees were,
or what the fruit even looked like on the tree. As it was drizzling rain, we stopped at a
plastic-bag full and then had to hunt down some nutcrackers in Bright (none at the
supermarkets (x2), $6.95 at the “Country Collectibles” shop, and our choice , $2.50 at
the el cheapo shop selling assorted junk.) Had coffee and read the paper at a café off the
main strip which was full of cars and tourists, and then headed to the main pub
overlooking the clocktower war memorial for John to do his entry while I read the murder
mystery I’ve brought along. Now we are at the Lake Buffalo dam where we’ve settled for
a meal and the night. The walnut tree tempted us yet again on the way, so we’ve filled
up a second, larger bag. Foraging for food is very satisfying when you don’t have to and
7
there is plenty of everything else for when you get sick of the stuff you’ve collected. We
used to do that in Forrest when we holidayed there in autumn and the numerous apple
trees along the verges in the area were loaded with fruit nobody but us seemed
bothered to collect. The tree by the way was close to the bike path running between
Bright and Myrtleford which is the old railway line. The station at Eurobin has been done
up as a stopping point along the way. Wednesday 16/4/03. The spot for the night is
Victoria Falls Reserve between Dinner Plain and Omeo. This morning we drove through
Myrtleford and Bright with a short detour to Wandiligong, which is a very pretty little
village 5ks from Bright, through Harrietville (paper reading, wine, coffee) to Mt. Hotham
and Dinner Plain. At Harrietville we found a line of walnut trees growing on the nature
strip along a lane, so succumbed to the urge to glean. Discovered that the walnuts from
these trees can be cracked easily by hand, so gathered a bagful for easy eating in the
van (the harder ones we gathered yesterday will do for home consumption). At Hotham
the clock on the visitors centre said 13.38 and 1º - it was cold!. Stopped briefly to
investigate a snow hut, which was occupied by 2 young guys enjoying a roaring fire and
whiskey and coke. There was a trace of snow on the ground near the hut. They’d arrived
last night in pouring rain to find the access gate (about 50 yards from the hut itself)
locked, but they managed to get the jeep they were driving in behind the building and
spent an uneasy night they said, waiting for someone official to discover it, so they got
up early and shifted it back to the designated parking area. They, like us, bemoaned the
ever-creeping spread of regulations and “Do not…” notices in country they have
travelled in all their lives. Dinner Plain was an eye opener for me - a whole development
of wooden houses which looked a bit like something from Middle Earth (some even had
round front doors) and ritzy restaurants and a great pub (empty except for a family at
the restaurant and us at the pub). The place has a permanent population of 80 and they
are hoping for a good Easter and snow season after the fires. John had a whiskey and
coke and I had a cappucino and a choc-chip cookie - $10. You have to be a polo player to
live here obviously, or the CEO of something. Now at Victoria Falls Reserve (in the
Cobungra district) the temperature is dropping so we’re having a fire in the specially
provided fireplace, though with all the burnt trees around it seems a bit disrespectful
somehow, like adding insult to injury.
Thursday 17/4/03. I am quoting from p.4 of my piece ‘13/8/01 –25/8/01’ : “
“Agam-ben quoting from the second chapter of the talmudic treatise Hagigah
(literally “Offering”) which considers those matters it is permitted to study &
those that must not in any case become objects of investigation. The Mishnah
with which the chapter opens reads as follows : “Forbidden relationships must
not be exp-lained in the presence of two (people); the Chariot (merkebah, the
chariot of Ezekiel’s vision which is the symbol of mystical knowledge) must not
be exp-lained in the presence of one, unless he is a sage who already knows it on
his own. It is better never to be born than to be someone who investigates into
the four things. The four things are : what is above; what is below; what is first;
what is after (that is, the object of mystical knowledge, but also metaphysical
know-ledge, which claims to the study of the supernatural origin of things.)””.
‘13/8/01 – 25/8/01’ contains a lengthy dscussion of aspects of the above mishnah
but it is only in the last weeks that I have gained sufficient clarity that I am able
to lay it aside. This is how I have xplained 2 myself why it is pointless 2 ask
questions such as what is the meaning of life (all this) or of the universe (or
8
purpose of) or of the world or of it all. Occasionally I come across erudite @empts
@ answers but I agree with the mishnah that it is advisable not 2 @empt the task.
When we give meaning 2 something we place it in2 a context. We say what is on
either side of, or above & below, or b4 & after, or all around, or in which order it
is. It is so in all cases whether we r xplaining a 4mula, or why we mbarked on a
course of action, or the meaning of a word etc. etc. 1 way we can b viewed is as
the creatures that assign meaning (the earth giving itself meaning) – it is our
special talent, & lang-uage is the tool with which we do it. Whatever we place in
a context is subsidiary 2 us & 2 the larger context of which we ourselves r part. 2
ask what is the con-text of the context is nonsensical & assumes that language
can operate with the same rules outside the context which 4med it. 2 even use
the word ‘outside’ is 2 already mply the possibility. It is 2 bhave as if we can st&
apart from the xper-iences & dcisions that have structured us (a quality religious
people @ribute 2 god). Scientists make the same point when they say we cannot
know what came b4 the big bang bcoz both the laws of nature & we ourselves
(the knowing) r its consequences. It is not surprising that the mishnah should
gain ndorsement from science in this nstance since the way language works (the
way we function in language) is an xtension of the workings of the parts of which
we r made. Today was a long drive from the reserve to the small town of Mitta Mitta,
along the Alpine Highway to Omeo and then through a thoroughly burnt section of the
Alpine National Park where we took some photos. We passed Cobungra station, which is
the largest property in Victoria, grazing mainly hereford cattle and some sheep. They are
selling 50 bulls on the 23rd of May, so they’ve either had a good year (a surplus of bulls)
or a bad year (too many bulls to feed) depending on the way you look at it. There was a
tinge of green on the paddocks along the road, and the stock looked meaty enough.
Stopped briefly at Omeo to get the paper, but it hadn’t been delivered. Mitta Mitta is a
very small town on the riverof the same name, where the Laurel Hotel will be showing
the Collingwood – Brisbane game on TV at 8pm. Walked to the historic site of Victoria’s
largest open-cut gold mine where they used high pressure water jets to bring down the
whole side of a largish hill, ran it through sluices and extracted gold, amalgam and zinc.
The environmentalists would have died of apoplexy at the damage to the landscape. No
fire tonight, as we’ll be sleeping in the heart of town in a little reserve next to the pub,
right on the river. Thanks to our gleaning expeditions, we are overdosing on walnuts,
chomping them at breakfast and then as we drive, as they are so easy to open.
Friday 18/4/03. Another driving day. Last night we gave up the idea of going to the
pub to watch the game as we found a great spot right on the river bank (it’s the Snowy
Creek by the way, not the Mitta Mitta) where we were snug and private and were able to
rekindle a fire from some previous visitors’ fireplace and a great one it was too. John had
to knock the coals off the 2 big chunks of wood otherwise it would have burnt all night
(he thinks it was willow). Arrived at Thredbo, via Khancoban, about 1pm and explored
the town. Met Matti in the pub – he was there to hang around the pinball machine and
check out the talent – then spent the rest of the day with the Garricks. Their unit is very
comfortable, serviced, and can sleep 6 easily, in 2 bedrooms and using a fold-out couch
in the living area. John Garrick’s sister and brother-in-law and their 2 kids were there
from Brisbane, for dinner. They are staying at the pub. Rasa and Joe and Egle’s mum are
due in today from Cooma. We slept in the van in the carpark (we prefer to be alone, a la
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Garbo) behind the AIS which has a high-class facility here – swimming pools, gyms and
other training facilities for serious athletes as well as the health-conscious locals.
Saturday 19/4/03. John visited the AIS toilets at 7 this morning (the centre is open from
7am to 7pm daily) and then followed up with a shower and shave. He waltzed in and
when he was leaving the attendant gave him the evil eye – seems you have to pay $4.40
for the shower facilities unless you are using the pool at $7.50. John felt obliged to come
back to the van, get out his wallet, and pay up, but he told the attendant that he thought
charging for showers was un-Australian. Many places in the country provide free showers
(including the visitor centre at Mt. Hotham) but they are generally shire/council run, not
privately. Though the AIS is probably subsidised heavily by the Federal government, it is
also probably managed by a private company, so every dollar counts. Still, there were no
notices about paying for showers, so it was an understandable mistake. We noticed a
general lack of public toilets in the village, too – one set at the bottom of the main ski
lift/visitor area and another in an arcade in the village square. This town is meant for
people who come to occupy the lodges, hotels and apartments, not for blow-ins like us.
But then we wouldn’t be here at all if it wasn’t for Egle’s birthday, preferring bush spots
to the urban feel here. Horses for courses. Yesterday I checked the mobile and Kate had
left a message wishing us a good holiday and mentioning that Michael needs new shoes.
Last night the thought occurred 2 me that since leaving the home I grew up in 2
get married the word family has never bn associated 4 me with the family of 5
(dad, mum, Rasa, Egle, me (& 4 a short time a brother, Saulius, who died in nfancy
& whose constant crying as he woz dying from dy-sentry in the Bagnoli DP camp
remains with me)) I grew up in. The thought came from the realization that 4 of us
r still here & thanks 2 Egles e4ts gathered 2gether in this strange place (2nd
highest town in australia after Cabramurra). It is not often that we r in close
proximity (sometimes @ xmas @ Rasas in Sydney but it has not occurred 2 me
there that most of the family r still alive). The mobility of modern living nsures
that families r soon scattered. I suppose these thoughts have not come 2 mind
previously bcoz I am so tangled in my own self centred concerns & the dramas of
my kids. I realized that I have no longer any memory @ all of the feel of that other
family. All that remains r memories of dsconnected events. I trawled 4 them as I
lay in bed in the van @ the very end of carpark no 2. I could hear the stream that
runs the length of Thredbo gurgling nearby. Precious few memories returned &
not a single 1 of the cute variety with which I could ntertain the assembled
guests @ Egles (‘fir tree’ in litho) birthday on sunday. I re-membered how ill my
father who had barely bn sick in a lifetime woz with what proved 2 b an nfected
gall bladder. That woz in Sale in Gippsland which I still think of as the town I
grew up in. His illness seemed 2 go on 4 ages & he was grey with pain. No1 could
diagnose the problem as there were no stones 2 show up on an xray. I thought he
might die & my last 2 pigeons went in2 the pot 2 save him. I remember my
mothers herculean efforts. Bsides cooking & cleaning she worked full time
teaching (french, german, latin) @ the Notre Dame de Sion con-vent across the
road & she was studying 4 an rts dgree which she got by corres-pondence from
Melbourne uni. On top of that she took in sewing ncluding the making of

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complicated wedding dresses & a bunch of air force guys from the RAAF base @
east Sale used 2 turn up 4 french lessons. Both parents were always tired & my
mum suffered from constant migraines. I remembered that when Egle woz born &
about 2 b brought home how awestruck I woz @ the thought of a new life & a new
member of the family. I woz 12 then. Perhaps there is a particular lucidity in the
way we perceive the world @ that age bcoz that kind of wonder never returned
even with the birth of my own 5 kids. My father had bn mpressing on me the need
2 b helpful & I woz looking 4ward 2 being allowed 2 push the pram. & thats bout
all I could dredge up & here we r all of us yuppies & in a pos-ition 2 take
advantage of the best that the country has 2 offer. 1 thing u can say about
yuppies is that if we dont get the most out of life weve only got ourselves 2
blame. Egle has done a beautiful thing by getting us 2gether like this. She has
hired the unit next door @ considerable xpence 4 mum, Rasa & Joe, & me & H 2
stay in comfort @ 2night & sunday night. She has stipulated we r not 2 give pre-
sents. As I interpret it the occasion of her 50th birthday has bn an xcuse 2 benefit
us. I think that this reversal of the norm is very fine of her & am grateful 4 having
bn prompted 2 reminisce on that other family, the 1 I grew up in. Sunday 20/4/03.
Yesterday was a beautiful cloudless day and the carpark we are staying in filled to
capacity with day-trippers. Thredbo was choc-a-block. We decided to walk along Merrit’s
Nature Trail for as long as I could manage, which turned out to be about ½ way up the
mountain range (Crackenback) which faces Egle’s unit. It was a pretty walk, but steep, so
I packed up pretty quickly (us librarians only shelve books about mountains, we don’t
actually climb them very often). There was a meadow walk track veering off Merrits
across the face of the slope so we attempted that instead, but it doubled as a mountain
bike trail, so gave in after 5 or 6 bikers thundered down on us from behind going at high
speed and not necessarily in control of their vehicles – its an accident waiting to happen,
a situation no doubt caused by the attempt to provide /encourage all things for all men
in the limited space available. Walked back along the Nature Trail to the village and
headed for the coffee shop and a spot of catching up with the news, after which we did
the creek walk which circles the golf course, through a section of burnt out vegetation
already regenerating. The walk along the Nature Trail was very pretty, flanking a
tumbling clear substantial creek (the source of the village water supply) which flows
down to join the Thredbo River which runs through the town. Snow gums and other
shrubby vegetation screened the creek off, but it was audible and visible where bridges
crossed it. In the afternoon we called into Egle’s to find the Blansjaars and John’s mother
had arrived next door, so spent the afternoon and evening with them, during which time
Elyte and her partner Luiz, a Chilean, arrived, and Peter and his wife Cathy, who had
ridden their matching pink and blue motorbikes from Sydney. Joe and Helen went to
Easter Vigil at the local church while the rest of us heathens drank and socialized. Rasa
put on the most delicious cabbage rolls I’ve ever eaten for dinner, served with perfectly
boiled new potatoes and a mouthwatering sauce, and then we wandered back to the
carpark under a starry sky to bed. 2day around the country many will b @ending
services celebrating renewal of hope & in some cases anticipating the imminent
return of jesus of nazareth. They will pray, muttering under their breaths, prhaps
pleading, as if some1 were listening. A few sceptics blieving that they know who
we r better from observing the bhaviour of the components that constitute us
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(@oms, lectricity, mechanics) than from ob-serving what we do will mock them.
The vast majority will go bout their ordinary lives as on any other day. Here @
Thredbo on a perfect day there is no service available 4 the dvout. Most yuppies
do not feel the need 4 renewal. They will spend their day taking the chairlift ($22
return) up 2 Eagles Nest restaurant on the Crackenback ridge (that me & H tried 2
walk 2 yesterday) 2 eat potato wed-ges (the best shes ever tasted according 2
Egle) & drink coffee (@ $4.50 per ordinary cup) & walking 2 Mt Kosciusko (highest
aussie peak) in a pilgrimage that averages over 3000 visitors / day in summer.
They will ride down the metal luge chute (in a toboggan with a brake) @ $5 a go.
They will hurtle down on mountain bikes (hired @ the service station) dressed like
spacemen along a special winding track. Some, like me & H, will spend the day
walking the nature trails. Many will browse in the shops (where everything is
marked up @ least 30%) in the village square xamining the latest in mountain gear
& relaxing in the cafes & bars. We stroll about in bulky hi-tech hiking boots & ski
fashion polar fleece vests cheer-fully confident. Australia lies @ our feet. The
future is ours. Monday 21/4/03. Easter has @ times bn a period of strain 4 me.
The story of christ, the way history remembers it, my personal narrative, the story
of the family I grew up in bcome a tangle that I try 2 unscramble. My habit has bn
2 rsolve these agitations over a number of days with a meditation on memory. Its
uses & abuses. How selective it is. How the past is always @ the service of the
present. How we use it 2 construct a self & how if some1 asks u who u r
everything u say when u say I am this, & this, & this is my flag, & here is the
house I live in, & the children I sired even as u utter the words all of it is already
in the past. We label ourselves 2 fix ourselves 2 a spot & as we do so we have
already moved on. & the present moment is huge & it swirls threatening 2 rush in
like a torrent through a hatch that has bn brea-ched in a submarine. People
clamour 4 an audience, 2 b heard, 2 b loved, 2 b

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13
saved (John Berger says that Simone Weil says that the destitute only ask that
they b seen in a particular way, acknowledged, recognized as instuments of
destinys purpose. But in practice she joined them & died as a result). & if we
didnt block our ears & shut our eyes the tumult would burst in & prhaps utterly
destroy us; scatter us in2 oblivion. & if we manage 2 protect ourselves from being
ngulfed by constructing the panels of the submarine so that the hull is completely
watertight we condemn ourselves 2 vacuity 4 there is nothing in the vessel but
mpty air – 4 we r the panels & b4 that the process of construction (another way of
viewing it (these r metaphors) is 2 say that its as if we r viewing the world thro-
ugh different perspectives, or a stained glass window xcept its not as if we r
standing on 1 side observing a l&scape but we r the shards of coloured glass
themselves & b4 that the lead 2 hold them 2gether & the process of rranging &
the l@scape is not outside but in contact with the glass or of it.) & prhaps I am in
some danger 4 Im addicted 2 swirling water & dislike fixed positions & it mayb
that my ship is held 2gether by only a single nail. Did a 9k walk yesterday morning
along the Thredbo River to Dead Horse Gap and back. The river is beautiful with small
rapids and deep pools of crystal water, though some of the walk was through burnt
surrounds. Back at the village at “Altitude 1370”, the coffee shop we’ve adopted, we
paid $4.90 each for mugs of coffee – the price had gone up since the day before –
perhaps the Easter spirit of rampant capitalism had peaked – it was Easter Sunday after
all. We had a snack from the back of the van at luxurious carpark 2 so we wouldn’t pig
out at the party, and spent some time in the outdoor area at the local version of the
informal country pub fighting off the European wasps from our drinks. They are very
persistent and plentiful, and greeted us every morning at breakfast behind the van,
along with the Little Ravens which are large and glossy, healthy specimens. Then off to
the party which Egle catered with heaps of delicious finger food followed by a cassoulet
served with Turkish bread, topped off with Rasa’s special cake (“you take ½ kg of butter
and 8 eggs …”) all washed down with as much beer, wine and champagne as everyone
could hold. John’s mother had hardboiled and dyed 7 dozen eggs for us all to play a
traditional Litho egg rolling game, which broke any ice remaining after the introductions.
The many teenaged children popped in and out to refuel during the evening from the
room they adopted as their fortress. John made an excellent speech highlighting Egle’s
generousity and the impact she had made on his life as a newborn arriving in his 12-year
old world. A good time was had by all, and there was enough food left over to allow the
Garricks to be cooking-free for at least a week. Today we drove to Adaminaby via
Jindabyne and Berridale and sat in the sun in the little rotunda near the statue of the
Great Trout while John wrote. Now we are on the flat plain of the old Kiandra goldfields
next to the Eucumbene River (a trout stream – there is a fellow waving a rod at the water
as he prowls along the bank) where it flows under a bridge on the main road. The plain is
small & ridgey from mullock heaps, surrounded by low hills. The fires have gone through
it, destroying the spongy alpine grass, but it has regenerated a thin cover of green. We
are quite high up (the nearest town is Cabramurra, which is the highest town in
Australia) so the air is cool, but the sun is shining. Tuesday 22/4/03. People rgue
bout meaning : a terrorist might b a freedom fighter; what is ethnic cleansing 2
some is xpulsion & genocide 2 others; refugees might b illeg-als. Sometimes a
14
person gets in2 his head that he has the right meaning even though every1 else
blieves otherwise as if it xists in an ideal space 2 which he has access while
others do not (rather than in the here & now where meaning is fought over &
contracts signed). 2 say that u r right (have the truth) & every1 else wrong is the
height of hubris & there is a saying that those whom the gods wish 2 dstroy they
1st make mad. Meaning cannot b separated from flesh & blood bcoz language is
an xtension of our physicality, the process by which we function as social beings
(our way of connecting 2 the 1 body). It is 2 b xpected & necessary that @ the
level of the social being meanings r in dspute bcoz it is by the process of 4ging
agreements that it grows. @ the level of cooperation btween the organs of our
ndividual bodies their functions have already bn dtermined though there 2 there r
grey areas & occasional changes take place. @ the level of @oms & the 4ces that
govern them we find almost perfect synchronization. We r the nventors of
meaning not its dscoverers. It is the special power that makes us rulers of the
world & puts in2 our h&s the capacity 2 dstroy ourselves, a power the rest of the
animal kingdom doesnt possess. Those who lay claim 2 the knowledge of truth
might do better 2 ngage in shaping it rather than dscovering or rvealing it. But it
may b that they have no option as evolution (who knows why) may have prdsp-
osed some of us 2 function in alternate areas of the brain. 2 dsconnect yourself
from the process of 4ging meaning is 2 also dsconnect yourself from the social
task. Should it b though that the meanings we r shaping r leading 2 the dstruction
of our civilization the capacity (even prdsposition of some) 2 roam in dsolate
terrain like the solitary beasts might nsure the survival of the human species.
Kiandra > Mt Selwyn > Cabramurra > Tooma. A really great day! It started with a beaut
walk along the Eucumbene River(let) and ended on top of a ridge where we have a 360º
view of high mountains as far as we can see and at our feet a beautiful valley with the
tiny town of Tooma at its centre and scattered farms from which woodsmoke is rising. Mt
Kosciusko is visible far to the south with a crown of cloud – its quite breathtaking. It feels
good to be a way from Thredbo, which is a touch too manicured and managed, and to be
in “real” country where there are few tourists. John woke (from cold) in the night to hear
a dingo yodelling - it was an eerie sound he says. There was frost on the ground and the
van but we breakfasted with the sun on our backs and did a 2 hour walk along the river
which is a designated trout stream. Just off the road which crosses the goldfields we
came across 2 serious fly fishermen who were togged out in vests with multitudes of
pockets, plying their rods hopefully. It shows that we live in a virtual reality world
already, without the help of any computer program, when 2 intelligent young men can
believe they will catch a fish big enough to be legal in a spot where every hopeful angler
will have tried their luck this easter break. A walk ½ k further on would have given them
a chance at a decent sized trout because John saw one, but it seems that once you don
the appropriate costume your brain stops functioning and you enter fantasy land. Still,
they seemed quite happy to be there. On the road out, we discovered the old Kiandra
cemetery where 47(known) bodies rest on a slope overlooking a little valley. 19 of them
died between birth and 3 years, 15 died of respiratory illness, 1 committed suicide,
between 1867 and 1920 (approximately). Many more, some Chinese, were buried in
unmarked or lost graves. Most of the Chinese were exhumed and taken home to China.
15
Cabramurra was a great town – high at 1488 metres a.s.l. and brand spankingly modern
and well appointed as you’d expect a Snowy Scheme town to be. We read the Sydney
Morning Herald and had coffee at the general store-P.O. – restaurant. Everything was
normally priced as it’s a company town and a working one at that. There were lots of
photos along the walls of the store of the early days of the Snowy scheme, including one
of 2 workers, one of whom was a dead ringer for John’s dad, who didn’t work there but
who did his compulsory 2 year migrant employment as a boiler attendant in the Sale
Hospital. On the road from Cabramurra down the mountain towards Tooma we saw a
black brumby grazing by the road. A dingo and a brumby in one day is pretty impressive,
but then we got the Aussie hat-trick when we had to stop for a troop of drovers taking a
motley crew of cattle (herefords, highland longhorn shaggies, brahmas and plain old
blacks) along the verges for agistment – its really, really dry here still, with pastures
almost completely browned off. At the Tooma pub we were the only customers – the
barmaid was watching an American soap on TV and outside the cockatoos were
complaining loudly. John wrote his entry on the front verandah with the journal balanced
on a bar stool and his glass of beer on a ricketty chair. It was real and lovely. We decided
to take the higher unsealed road out of the valley which should take us to Tintaldra on
the Murray near Corryong (which isn’t) and came across this eyrie with the gasp-making
view. Though we are camped on the side of the road, we don’t care as the traffic will no
doubt be light and the surrounding vista is too good to pass by. Wednesday 23/4/03.
Knowing blongs 2 the individual. I know what I see, hear, touch; I can know pain,
joy, love, pleasure, I know a woman; I know anger & hate, remorse, guilt, pity,
gentleness; I know pride & humility; etc. etc. Meaning blongs 2 the group. We
agree what something might mean. They r not mutually xclusive as we r separate
& social simultaneously (30/4/03. In view of the dscussion @ p.10 of ‘March 11’ if
‘separate’ & ‘2gether’ r 2 retain their meanings while simultaneous they have 2 b
referring 2 different parts of us (1/5/03. i.e. it only makes sense 2 say it from the
vantage of a greater nclusive domain).)(the hermit praying in the desert is less
alone than the ndividual who has rjected (or bn ab&oned by) agreed meanings
bcoz the words of his prayer had 2 b learnt by practice with others & their mean-
ing ncoded in2 his nervous system/brain). Though it blongs 2 the ndividual know-
ledge can only b passed on by a language of agreed meanings blonging 2 his soc-
ial group. It may b that its source precedes (or is subsequent 2) words. I dont
know if it is better “never to be born than to be someone who investigates into
the four things … what is above; what is below; what is first; what is after …” but
it is clear 2 me that some questions r unintelligble. Sometimes the best answer is
silence. Last night we watched the headlights of cars toing and froing down the steep
descent on the other side of the valley, and into and out of the various roads on the
valley floor, and counted 8 lights of farmhouses scattered up and down the valley. It was
a beautiful balmy evening and a very warm night. As a result I slept badly and have felt
out of sorts all day – you pay for your pleasures one way or another. We drove much of
the day in pursuit of those damned elusive walnut trees with the soft shells which we
both remembered as being along a side road from the main road in Harrietville. Could we
find them? No – so off to Wandiligong as a possible alternative site and still no trees. I’m
beginning to think we must have been in a parallel universe there for a while, or that my
memory is even more unreliable and erratic than I thought it was (which proves John’s

16
theory about memory). Read the paper at the Tawonga pub, looking out to Mt Bogong, in
the Kiewa Valley (another vista of valley floor flanked by high hills) and stopped at the
Harrietville pub where John did his entry. The hunt for the trees threw our timing out, so
we are hurrying to find a spot for the night and have had to settle for really ordinary
compared to last night’s outstanding. (Missed Tintaldra by the way – took a wrong turn
somewhere). Thursday 24/4/03. The last day of our adventure (we are back in
Melbourne tomorrow) was a terrific one – perfect autumn weather and a rich harvest of
walnuts. We found the phantom trees not at Harrietville as we both remembered, but at
a little town not far from it called Smoko. The trees provided abundantly and we spent a
happy couple of hours on our haunches cleaning the place out. We refreshed ourselves
at Bright with coffee and the paper, but the urge was still there and we couldn’t resist it
as we passed the tree near the Myrtleford – Bright bike path, so we cleaned that up as
well. By then we had 2 large plastic boxes (ones the poultry companies use to deliver to
supermarkets), one of hand crackable and the other of nut-cracker crackable , and we
were very pleased with ourselves. A bit out of Myrtleford on the road to Whourouly we
saw a whole row of trees hanging over a fence and I gave in to sheer greed. We filled up
another 2 large supermarket bags of the hand crackable variety and one tree in
particular had very large fruits. It was a great day rounded off by an extremely pretty
drive along back roads to the Whitfield pub where we are concluding this piece. The
richness of the country is amazing when, even in the 7th year of a drought, you can
harvest almost unlimited walnuts, chestnuts (we didn’t even start on them) and apples
(in Wandiligong there were 3 or 4 trees full of fruit that no-one was picking but we
couldn’t have fitted any into the van) just along the roadsides (some wood ducks were
getting stuck into them) even in areas where traffic is virtually constant. Our hands and
nails are stained a nice shade of brown which gives us a touch of rural authenticity.
Ive put mphasis on writing bout language out of perversity & a dsnclnation 2 p&er
2 xpectations. Last night I woz free of thought which ndicates that Ive succeeded
in saying what I wanted 2. I hope @ least 1 of my readers bnefits from the comm-
ntry as Id like 2 b sharing something & I njoy a bit of company after all. (Most of
the ntries were written with me fly undone as the zip of my very xpensive Mount-
ain Design trousers has busted.)
a …z & helenz

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