Views from a clouded head, one way to go a thousand ways to explode. Step one way you may decay stuck for a decade. Lost in the horizon I could tell ya where to find em, the ones who live life peachy keen.. the ones whose love could separate the sea. I wish you could see. Your eyes are white washed, concentrated towards the same days thrown on repeat bound to keep the same dull fire stroked whoops I meant stoked let’s pour water on it; soaked. One day you’ll wake up and choke, realizing it’s all been a hoax, your ass filled with smoke. All you are is boring and dry, stuck to the ground peering at the sky.
I’ve been lounging about all day, lazily, soaking up some nurturing words and waiting for a friend to come whisk me away on an adventure.
I heard rumor there was one little water fall in Margaret River.
The trip advisor guide says, “ go up the log steps follow the path, cross the bridge, keep going, slide down the sand dune and when you see a sign take a right” along those lines.
Bridget rolls up in here forest green, 4×4 van wagon. I hop in. Marigold and wildflower car freshener fill the space.
This is the third time we’ve met but the first time spent together. She’s down to earth, high vibes and has got golden dreadlocks down to her lower back. We speak all the pleasantries on our ride, surrounded by miles of vineyards protected by thin metal wire fences as to say “you’re still welcome here come try our aromatic vino!” Gradual curves are a sweet lullaby on the road.
“Look out for Moses Rock Road” Bridget interjects through the contemplative silence
“You got it captain!” I pull up google maps, cause why risk it when technology is in the palm of your hand? “Looks to be about five minutes north on our left”
“Perfect, we’ll catch sunset”
“Beautiful” I say and we continue in our comfortable silence.
Moses Rock Road is a gradient of paved to dirt to sand. We drive along nice and slow. Thickets of brush cradle the roadside, looming nearly above the car. Grass trees shoot up along the hills, they look like evolved cattails, when you touch them they are hard as a rock and at least two meters high. As we follow the sand we reach a small overlook with full ocean views. The daylight is drifting and grey clouds covet the sky. sun beams stream through the clouds enchanting distant patches of the ocean, as if the heavens are opening up just before night falls.
There’s a brisk wind as I step out of the car.
“Hmmm, we can either go right or left. Where are those log steps?” Bridget and I search the coast like pioneers on an expedition.
“But first, I need to pee.” There’s an outhouse just above the parking lot.
These outhouses are particularly nice. Most of my outhouse encounters have been above average. This one had a particularly heavy wooden sliding door, thick toilet paper, a little cleaning bucket (in case someone left a little mess), and detailed instructions of how to escape a bush fire creating quite a safe atmosphere when relieving myself. Thanks Straya.
We find our wooden logs and follow a path that weaves through the bush. Wildflowers are in bloom and the salty mist of the ocean lingers. Grey clouds act as a shield. We are in another world, caught between the seaside and red rocky dirt.
The path leads us to a bridge and we know for certain we are on the right path. Up and over little hills we come to a fork, go left and descend down a giant sand dune go right and continue along the green folly. So we go left. Sliding down our feet absorbing in the sand with each step.
“That’s going to be a fun climb up” we both giggle with slight apprehension at the thought of getting back up that slope. Further down we descend. Til we reach a large flat clearing of red dirt.
To our left the ocean plays gentle breaking waves to our right the mountains go on and on.
“Let’s go right I guess, no sign, but at least we can guess the waterfall is inland.” The images of waterfalls play across my mind. Though I don’t have high expectations for this waterfall. Summer is approaching here in South-West Australia, less rains more wind. I am taken back for a moment with a picture of home, to the day when I first saw the Alamere waterfall. A triumphant cliff sending streams of water from the mountain into the frigid Pacific Ocean.
The path is narrowing as we climb inland. One more bend and the path opens up to a cliff about four meters high stained with algae. Saturated green fills my eyes. The waterfall is sparse yet still flowing, down into a pond that leaks into a creek. Swirls of algae, mossing mud flow with the tide. Little tadpole wiggle around in the shallows. It’s magical. The only waterfall in the area and it’s perfect.
After some time of sitting appreciating the waterfall we ascend the mountain on a little path that’s been cleared by others before us. Rocky and slippery, every step in strategic and careful. The brush weaves in all directions. Covering the ground in patches and we’re lost for seconds at a time then recover the simple path. The sun is still somewhere in the middle sky enveloped by grey clouds, not too far from setting. We reach the top of the waterfall. The water looks turquoise at this downward view against the dark green moss. I want to sit and watch this scene for ever. But I know how much I do not want to be out here after night fall. The air becomes icy and harsh next to the great Indian Ocean.
Standing there I can’t help but listen to all the beautiful sounds. Sweet serenading birds, wind rustled brush, trickling water on its effortless journey towards the sea. Everything is. All is at peace. I don’t want to leave but dinner is calling my name and I’m becoming parched. We say goodbye to this haven of timelessness and say hello to a melancholy walk back. A taste of natural beauty lingering on my lips. I’m pleasantly enchanted, the wind doesn’t seem so cold or harsh. Although I’m a guest in this land I feel at home. Kangaroos bouncing around trying to catch the sun halt to observe us, bored with their discoveries they hop away into the fading foliage in the distance. Our feet are bare as we walk back to the car. Feeling the ground is a shock to my shoe protected feet but the sand and stones are soft under my soles. But the rocky road is approaching and my sensitive toes beg me for a barrier. We both stop once again to reattach our armor against the jagged ground, take in the view of the valley kissing the shore and follow our way back to the dirt lot.
We discuss future adventures as we reminisce amongst the memories of the little cove.
It was a good adventure we say to one another. Let’s do it again.
I’ve been held down in a deep darkness, it’s like being choked to death then gently kissed on the cheek repeatedly.
My mind furiously spinning toward the edge then pulled back by some saving grace. When you think there’s nothing else, that your life is meaningless when the anger turns to tears streaming down your cheeks and the self loathing is unbearable …. take a deep breathe, take a hundred deep breathes then stay in your body until you realize you’re apart of the most beautiful consciousness. There is no purpose except to be at peace with yourself and the process of life
All my life I have loved women. I am enamored by them. Because I am one.
Grown around a patriarchal haze, where women are not praised but thrown down or shit not even mentioned. I have striven for a life that raises women up.
Yes, I’ve had my dark moments; woman shaming, woman hating, bitch fights induced by alcohol and jealousy.
As I came from a woman, became a woman and maybe one day will make a woman; I vow to myself to never compare my standing in this big beautiful universe with another woman.
I want to take a moment of silence so I may apologize to all the women I have hurt in my life all the mean words that slipped my lips before I thought twice. If it weren’t for all my mommas and sisters I wouldn’t know what strength is.
I’ll lift my ladies up and be inspired by their achievements. Women who support women is the only kind of woman.
All my life I have loved women. I am enamored by them. Because I am one.
I found myself in the same old struggle, not believing I was worthy of anything good to come my way. I pleaded to a higher power; unleash me from my own chains, help me gain freedom from the depths of self-inflicted pain.
The day stinks with frustration and short fuses.
I cross my arms. I’m leaving. I can’t stand this. I’m going.
My empty threats fill the room.
I’m packing my backpack, I pause. I pack. I pause.
He’s silent, I can’t move. I have nowhere to go.
He scoots to the edge of the bed
Come here baby
I collapse into his lap
Tears stream down my cheeks
How can you be around me? I don’t understand
Because I love you. Because we both aren’t perfect. Because the bad comes so sparingly with the good.
I’m silent. I love you too.
I like to imagine my life as smooth pavement, gliding along on my board; carving, pushing sliding.
Yet this violent image of me falling on my face and tearing up my body pops right into the middle of it.
I’m laughing… with blood smeared teeth and road burns covering my skin yet peeling it back… I’m fucking laughing, blood and spit drooling down.
Hop back on and keep pushing.
Pain, can’t stop us. Only the fear of pain will limit us.