All posts in Adventures

Eleven.

by admin on September 6, 2012 in , , , with No comments

Mina, it’s your birthday and you are…OMFG… Eleven years old. I have posted this early for many reasons – partly because I am travelling on your actual birthday and time gets away from me when I get back, but also being the night before I fly to see you for your birthday, it just seems the right time (and mindset) to write your birthday post. With wine. Having missed you for a month.

It’s amazing, actually, the kind of pressure I feel now as I write this, not only because of my absence in your day-to-day life and trying to say something meaningful and reassuring that will somehow, magically, make up for that (I know it won’t), but also because this year, I heard the words that will make any mother recoil in horror:

“I read your blog, Mum”.

It’s enough to stop me dead in my tracks, really. Despite you not having a problem with it and reassuring me that you liked reading my posts, I have to be honest – I contemplated not writing a birthday post at all, because I know you are growing up and don’t necessarily need your mother gushing about you online for all and sundry to read. I want you to know that I nearly didn’t. But… bear with me. I promise I won’t embarrass you (too much).

It’s strange how something as simple as a blog post can come to mean so much, and have so much impact on someone’s life, as it has mine. This blog, that I have been writing for all of the time you have existed on this planet, well… it is quite an extraordinary thing to read back on. Much like going through old photo albums, going through and reading the letters I have written to you in the past provides just… so much reflection and insight into my thoughts and state of mind at the time. And I feel that pang of regret when I read it, because, there were times when life was a lot easier for you. And life will get harder, and more complex, and… well…

Much like photographs, my blog entries, for better or worse are a snapshot in time, that one day, will hopefully provide you with comfort.

I speak from experience.

As you probably know, I have a photograph that is 1″ wide and 1.5″ tall, in an oval frame, sitting on my bookshelf. It is innocuous, barely even noticeable, but it is the only photograph that I have of Grandma Chris, because she avoided photos. Well, that and our fractured family meant that, basically, I have one photo.

But, Grandma’s reluctance and fear of embarrassment means that now… there’s no photos. No record. I know it’s morbid, but…

I don’t want that for you. I want you to understand, and know that I love you. Have it written here, stored by the Internet in forever-land, that I battled daily with my decision to move away. But, I love you, and I fought, and continue to try to make it work. I made choices that I think will be better, and provide you with opportunities that can’t be provided in Perth, in the long term. And hopefully make you see that there is a world bigger than sitting around, staring at the TV, waiting to die.

It’s strange though, having written this blog for this long, that in part was started so that you would read about the cute and funny things you said and have a laugh at the “letters in a shoebox” when you were older… has, through the life of the blog, somehow morphed into this big, complicated need to tell my “side of the story”. My actual side of the story will come when you are an adult. In private. That is a private discussion that will no doubt occur, but just know that, in those moments where you doubt that I love you, or that I don’t miss you, or that I am not doing my very best with a situation where my hands are tied… I want you to know that… I’ve done my very best.

And that, right there, is why I decided to write the post. So you don’t have a 1″ photograph when you need me, and know that… in my words… that it’s going to be OK.

Happy birthday.

Mum x

Whew.

by admin on August 3, 2012 in , , with No comments

It has been so long since I have blogged… this started as a Facebook status and I thought “hey… why not blog it and then people will think I am totally not neglecting my blog… suckas! ha ha ha”.

I am now almost 4.5 months into making the best and most liberating (and yes, terrifying) decision of my life. I am not generally adverse to making those kinds of risky decisions – I mean – I generally have a pretty adventurous disposition – but nothing has really paled to the decision to leave Perth to live in Sydney.

“Big deal”, is what most people would say… however… the decision to be further away from your children is one that is not easy. Most people just don’t understand, and some even go so far as to openly judge me for it. But, I love my children. I didn’t do it lightly. And… thus far, I think I am making it work.

When faced with the difficult choice between one piece of your heart (my career) over another (my children), there will always be doubt. And people will always have an opinion. And believe me, there is not a day that goes by that I don’t scrutinise that choice.

But as I sit here, after a week filled with some amazing developments for the business, and sharing it with someone… incredible… and with the once-tense relationship with my ex husband turning around into a positive co-parenting relationship, I realise that sometimes… you just have to go with your gut, even if everyone else thinks you are making a mistake.

On a day to day basis, I try to forget/suppress how much I miss the kids. I keep myself busy and fill it with distractions. We FaceTime as much as possible, and I try really hard to make it work.

I manage to forget the pain, for the most part, until I have a ticket booked to see them, and start preparing to have Moo again. We do month-on-month off with him, because he is not yet at school. And when my month comes around… I get so excited that I am reminded how much I miss my babies.

Missing them is such a normal part of my day and I am so busy I don’t give myself time to think about it…. that when the anticipation and excitement kicks in… I realise…”wow… that REALLY hurts”. And yeah, when I am exhausted or have a few glasses of wine… I get sad. I mean… who wouldn’t?

But, 4.5 months in and I realise, that Sydney is my home. I love it here. I made the right choice. Yes, it’s difficult. And there are aspects that do provide me with some stress and incertainty. But, nothing in life is certain (as the breakdown of our marriage proves), and… I am simply doing my best. I am finally starting to rebuild my life after an awful 3 years… and things are starting to work out. Sure, my kids may have a different view, and I am prepared for that (and would never blame them), but… I am trying to make it work.

And, my ex is coming around in a way I never expected him to, being more flexible with the kids and visits… and as money improves, hopefully it won’t even be an issue.

As I reflect on the craziness of the last 6 months, it hits me that, despite the odds, I reckon we can actually make this work. Against incredible odds, I reckon we can. And if there is anything that you can get out of this… it’s that you should follow your gut. Trust it. Make difficult choices as necessary, but follow your gut.

Well you can scratch that one off the bucket list…

by admin on March 18, 2012 in , with 3 Comments

The border.

So, I kind of managed the drive across the Nullarbor! Made it to Ceduna without any hassles. I am actually surprised, but it’s weird, that now I have hit the other side… and am free to enjoy a couple of days… that the emotions kick in and I realise that I have left WA. I actually did it. Wow.

I drove across the Nullarbor, alone. I didn’t break down, I didn’t get serial killed… and in some small part, I managed to distract myself with the “big  drive” and everything till the SA border, so as not to have to think about what I am actually committing to doing here.

Fuck, I LEFT Western Australia. After 15 years of talking about it, I have actually done it. For a maybe.

While I ponder that for longer than I should, I suddenly realise that it’s a hell of a drive back if I chicken out now.

So, like the lovely psychologically healthy person I am, I’ll just distract myself again and tell you about the trip.

I left Madura at about 7am, after a pretty average sleep, what with keeping one eye & ear open for mice eating my eyeballs. I made Ceduna my goal, planned to pace myself, take in the sights, take photos… and I did. To an extent.

The outback is… amazing. I don’t know why people say there is nothing to see – it really does have some incredible beauty if you look for it. Going from brown, to green, to red… to glimpses of cliffs on the Bight to the most beautiful red & ash-coloured trees I have ever seen (and need to be seen with eyes, not a lens, to be fully appreciated!). And that’s the thing. It really is something that you need to see. Experience. Take in all the colour and the beauty and the vastness that a lens just can’t capture. It really is… epic.

So yes, I got some pretty great shots. But honestly? I actually really, really like (and prefer) the driving part. There is something incredibly Zen about hitting the open road, alone with your (in my case swirling and complex) thoughts and emotions… that each time I hit somewhere, I really only stopped for half an hour, to stretch my legs, go “aw pretty”, take a picture… and then… kept moving.

I guess I learned something about myself, which is that I relax more when I am moving forward. Not too good at the sitting still, me. So a note to anyone planning holidays with me: you better be planning to take me exploring or walking up a mountain…

Anyway, yesterday, I finished the leg between Madura, Ceduna and landed in Smoky Bay with the intention of spending some quality time there.

Until I was told there was no accommodation.

See, apparently all the oldies like to fill up all the caravan parks and accommodation in March & April, creating a grey peak tourist season outside of the school holidays. I did not know or plan for this… I assumed that because school holidays was over, that it wasn’t a problem.

But apparently it’s peak season, so without paying over $150 a night for a room (which I can’t afford), I am fucked.

The guy at Smoky Bay was really nice and apologetic… and laughed at my joke that I should camp outside in case we get a “casual caravan park vacancy”… so … I wasn’t annoyed. And, unperturbed (given that this is an adventure after all and I know I am a control freak who really needs to learn to just roll with things…) I continue to Streaky Bay, where I was again informed there was “no room at the Inn”.

Same problem.

It was at this point I decided that I was not paying $30 for an unpowered campsite (my only option other than $150+ a night hotel rooms). I stopped at the Streaky Bay bar, where everyone was just a little weird and looked at me funny and made me feel generally uncomfortable. Or maybe I was just about to meltdown… because I love the feeling of having no control. Yeah, I am totally in my element there.

It was at this point it really started to hit me what I was doing. I was half way between either home, with nowhere to stay because everything was full… people were looking at me weird, my daughter won’t talk to me on the phone… and… then I find out that an old friend had passed away… it was all too much.

So, after a little panic attack and a cry to Martin, at 8pm, all emotional, tired, out of control and sad to hear about Jaye, I decide “FUCK IT” and hit the road and drove till I was tired.

It was absolutely WONDERFUL.

I have no problem with night driving. I take it easy, I am alert and know how to handle myself on country roads. And… it was awesome. No roos, the occasional road train, and passing dead quiet country town after dead quiet country town.

And then I saw the big concrete cockatoo. Never before have I been so relieved to see the stupidest thing I have ever seen. Kimba. Halfway across Australia and slightly more than halfway through my trip. It is hard to describe that feeling, especially given the weird state of mind I was in that got me there in the first place. But…

For the first time in about 2 weeks, I breathed out. And I smiled. And then I cried. Hard. SHUT UP YOU DON’T KNOW.

So, I kept going for a bit longer, and eventually started to feel tired around midnight, and because nothing was open along the way, about 70K West of Iron Knob (heh… knob), I pulled over into a rest area with all the truckies and slept in the car. Which, ironically, was the most comfortable sleep I have had the entire trip!

I woke up, found a shower on the way, and am now sitting in Port Augusta. Where I am actually feeling good and relaxed.

There’s more to write about that, so I will save that for the next post. It’s funny the things you learn about yourself when you travel on your own…

Norseman to… Madura?

by admin on March 17, 2012 in , with No comments

So, right now I am completely offline.

I was chatting to the guy at the BP in Norseman this morning, and making small talk about lack of comms and internet. He said “that’s why I kind of like not having the internet a lot of the time. When you can’t Google everything, knowledge is more valuable than information”. I liked that.

So, anyway, I drove 700km this afternoon. I arrived in Madura at 7pm. It is now 9:30pm and I have unloaded my car twice because I had to move rooms. More on that later.

For the last few months I have been contemplating/anticipating/planning the Nullabor drive. I have been reading up on how harsh it is. I have been reading about all the little adventures you can have… and, intellectually, I was completely prepared for anything that happened along the way.

And you know what?

It was fucking anti-climactic.

Not in the sense that it was disappointing – it is beautiful. It is quite Zen-like, in fact.

It was anti-climactic in the way that it was actually MUCH easier than I thought it would be.

“Oooh it’s SO boring! The 90 Mile straight will kill you from the boredom!”

Nar. Wasn’t an issue. I don’t get bored easily. My brain is a circus. Not a problem. Besides, I have karaoke in my car…

“Watch out for kangaroos/camels/bunyips and especially don’t drive at dusk”.

Well, guess what? I DIDN’T SEE ONE LIVE ANIMAL ALL DAY. And, because I am a fucktard who forgot about timezones, found myself driving at dusk. And guess what? NOTHING. I saw ONE eagle eating a Kangaroo corpse. Any other roadkill had been well tenderised days ago (and by tenderised, I mean mooshed repeatedly into the bitumen to make a mincemeat pancake)… and 2 sheep at the side of the road.

That was it.

In fact, it was a very pleasant drive. Time went fast, I barely even noticed how far I had driven, and now, I am well on track to Ceduna from here.

I must say, that there was a “squee!” moment when the road got pretty and hilly again. And here I am, at the Madura “Oasis” Motel.

This is as far as I could get before nightfall, and it’s… you know… an Outback roadhouse. I am haemorrhaging cash, with fuel being $2.10 a litre (! YES I have noticed the massive difference in consumption between Premium Unleaded and normal… massive difference and Premium is well worth the money), it’s a LOT more expensive than I thought it would be. And the accommodation is… well… not great.

To be honest, I am starting to think that I am better off sleeping in my car on a cheap powered caravan/camping site. The best night I had was in Coolgardie, but the rest have been pretty bad. So I might try that and see how I go. Can’t be any less comfortable!

Look, I am no Princess. I love camping, can live for days without power or anything fancy. I am in the Outback and I am not expecting anything other than a bed to sleep in, access to power and the basics… and… NOT HAVING VERMIN IN MY ROOM WHEN I PAY $80 A NIGHT.

Because, I tell you what… there is no vermin in my car. I have nice pillows and blankets and stuff and at $80 a night, I will happily sleep in my car if it means not having my feet chewed off. The thing that annoyed me tonight was not the mouse… I mean… it happens… it’s the Outback! But what annoyed me was the “countryfolk” taking the piss because I happened to go in and ask what I should do to deal with it. Like “har har city person” condescension… like I can’t POSSIBLY know anything about anything.

I FUCKING KNOW I AM IN THE OUTBACK. And I was not freaking out. I simply asked if they had a broom or whatever so I could get it out to sleep… but it became this big deal. And then I look like a city prick freaking out over a mouse, when I really didn’t care… I just didn’t fancy paying $80 for the privilege of wildlife infestations around my ears.

I’d take up drinking if it wasn’t $300 for a bottle of wine.

So, Eucla & the Bight and pretty things tomorrow. I am looking forward to seeing the ocean. I am leaving here at 6am, so I should go get some shut-eye.

Perth to Norseman

by admin on March 15, 2012 in with No comments

Why hello. I am writing to you from Norseman, WA. For those of you unfamiliar with the vast land between Perth & Adelaide, Norseman is the last stop (…approximately 1200km) where you can get decent water (without paying a premium), supplies and… OMG there is ZERO phone or 3G reception without a satellite phone. For 1200km.

So, obviously I am lingering here for another day, to take care of outstanding work, prior to going dark for the longest period of time since I was in a coma for 6 days. Believe me, I am dreading a repeat of the emails I got then (you know, because I had the gall to go and almost die and leave a woman without her slideshow…).

So yeah, I am finalising things before I go, you know, just in case something happens and I go get myself Wolf Creeked or something.

Why?

For those who are not up to speed on what’s been happening… About 4 months ago, I decided to move to Sydney. I said “within the next 6 months”, started making plans… and well, here I am, with my worldly possessions in the back of my Kia Rio, making my way across the country. I was initially going to fly… you know… to make it EASY on myself… but because I have a car that is under finance, it became a pain in the arse to sell it… so… I decided to drive over, extract a couple of days of R&R, enjoy a leisurely drive over, do the “bucket list” thing of driving the Nullarbor and start anew.

As for the kids, I’ll be flying back to Perth once a month and staying approximately a week. Still not entirely sure how it is going to work (or how I am going to pay for it!), but… that’s the goal. We have clients in Perth, and I am committed to keeping roots in both cities (even though Sydney is my new ‘base’).

So, I am going to blog my journey as best I can, but frankly, it’s not really very interesting! I mean sure, I am a 33 year old woman, driving alone across some of the harshest land in the world… but to me, it’s not really very interesting. I have planned this trip so that it is NOT interesting, you know, beyond the stuff I will see.

Because nobody wants an INTERESTING trip, where they break down, lose tyres or end up as a wilted skeleton corpse on the side of the Eyre Highway. I will take perfectly boring ANY DAY, thank you very much.

So, Norseman.

I thought it fitting to write a post just before I disappear. You know, because if I die, at least you know I will have died doing what I love: sleeping in the freezing cold, with limited water supply and no internet.

If I break down after this point, my only option is to flash a truckie my sub-standard boobs and perform favours for a lift. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that… I am about to leave, and I managed to charm a guy into checking my tyres for me. See, ladies, THAT is how it’s done. You apply sunscreen to your bare shoulders at the service station and then look quizzically at the air thingy… and someone will help you.

Fuck Bear Grylls, I know how to survive in the desert.

It’s funny though. I have 6 bottles of water, and I have gone back in 3 times for one more. The service station attendant thinks it’s endearing and funny. I think it’s fucking TERRIFYING. You should NOT READ THE INTERNET about crossing the Nullarbor. And yes, even though I know it is aimed at English fucktard tourists who underestimate the conditions, there is this part of you that knows all the potential things that can go wrong. Which, if you are a control freak like me, means you end up carrying about 500L of water and 14 spare tyres. And, you know, a helicopter just in case.

Seriously though, I like long drives, and have thus far easily made it to Norseman without any fatigue, boredom or anything else. Growing up as a kid who was always on long drives, and then later as an adult who worked in the Goldfields, I am struggling to find anything interesting to say about the Perth-Norseman leg — firstly because I have seen it and secondly, well, I am not one to get bored easily… I am happily alone with my thoughts and let my mind wander and it’s an adventure. But you know, if you haven’t seen WA yet, then… well… you totally should. Because it’s beautiful.

So anyway, I will see you on the other side, no doubt with much to rant about.

On not giving a fuck for 5 years.

by admin on July 21, 2011 in , , with No comments

Because of the craziness of the last week, I have only just gotten around to this post. 5 years ago this week, I nearly died. Like, seriously, pale-faced-ICU-Consultant-preparing-my-husband-for-the-worst kind of “almost died”.Not your “I skidded my car and my life flashed before my eyes” almost died – like – my body was battling sepsis and I was on a ventilator and I was given 24 hours to turn around before thinking about plugs and stuff kind of “nearly died”.

Everything changed within in me from that point. I woke up, had a long recovery, and still have the battle scars, but I see it as a blessing. Because, from that moment, I started to see the rest of my life as a second chance, and to live as if I was on borrowed time.

Of course, it’s one thing to believe it and another to actually do it. A couple of months ago I was sent this blog entry. It hit me in the guts, because it really is something that EVERYONE should read, and try to live their life by.

Of course, it would be irresponsible to not give a fuck about anything, and is kind of not the point. The point is to give a fuck about things that actually matter, and not get distracted by the stupid, petty and negative distractions that compete for… my “fuck” resources.

The main change has been in my tolerance for superficiality, or conformity, or being afraid of making waves for telling the truth as I see it. Oh, how many times I have been told that I would be a “star” or “more successful” if I would toe the line, not swear, not make waves. In Perth, there is a corporate culture and an expectation that you don’t make waves. You most certainly do not, under any circumstances, speak your mind. You must suck the proverbial dick of those in authority… especially if you are a woman. But this is fool’s gold. I don’t want to be a “star”, and money is just a means of attaining the freedom to do what I want to do.

What is a bank balance without people who love you?

What is a job title if you had to be someone else to get it?

What is a life without… actually living?

Is a good parent a dutiful parent? Or is it a parent who models to their children how to have healthy relationships, and how to live a life without regret?

My definition of “success” is different to other peoples, and I am actually living successfully… as I define it.

I am truthful. I love deeply, even if I am not great at showing it. I learn from my mistakes… and… as a parent, I do my best. I am happy to take on idiots or speak out against injustice. I take risks.

And yes, I constantly suppress that voice that tells me to conform for conformity’s sake. Because I am not afraid. I have faced the thing that most people fear most, which is a premature death, without seeing my children grow up.

What have I learned from this? That a lot of the fears that hold us back are just a construct. Everything has a way of working itself out. When I posted the “iPadofLove” competition, it was not out of narcissism, or for money, or fame… it was purely for my own sense of adventure and curiosity. People find me challenging and frustrating because of this. One person in particular feels the need to ‘counsel’ me on how to behave and become a fame whore like him. Because he assumes I want what he so desperately desires (fame). I don’t.

  • I only do jobs I want to do, and work with people I want to work with.
  • I only care what those who are close to me think of me.
  • I am a good mother to my children.
  • I work hard.
  • I believe in a ‘great love’ and I am looking for it and am willing to put in the work to make it a reality. However, I am also happy if it doesn’t happen, because I am a fulfilled person in my own right.
  • I take time to appreciate the smallest of things, and get excited about the big things.

Don’t be afraid. Stop giving a fuck. Because when you’re dead, that’s it. There is nothing left except your legacy. And no-one ever wants to have a eulogy that reads “paid all their bills on time, worked the same job for 50 years and acquired an investment property”. At least, I don’t.

I want a legacy that makes people laugh when they think of the shit I have pulled and stuff I have said. I want people to see that everything I have ever done has been in the spirit of adventure, honesty to the point of being brutal, and not letting “life” get me down. I want people to see that, maybe, I gave it a shot and even though I might not get it right all the time, that my intentions were always good.

And if I chose not to engage with you, that yeah, you were probably a bit of a dickhead… and… I don’t really have time for that.

So much time is spent on pointless negativity, and people will always try to drag you into it. When you anonymously troll a blog, or have internet wars, or waste your time with petty fallouts with people… that is a wasted life. And that is why I feel sorry for people who engage in that. Similarly, people who use other people as a means of getting ahead themselves… or people that are cruel to animals or children. How… utterly pointless it all is.

Do some good. But the kind of ‘good’ that actually matters. Not merely by living a compliant life, filled with rules, and fear, and worry about what others might think, but by being brave. Try not giving a fuck. You may find it liberating.

You may be surprised.

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