Wilfully Kind

Kalbarri National Park

A steep gorge, a 10km hike, and my lunchtime dining room and pool, deep in Nanda country, is blessedly people-thin on the ground. It’s so peaceful and, of course, absolutely beautiful.

The deep, eroded gorges of Kalbarri National Park are, in geological terms, spring chickens. They’re only 300-400m years old. The high ground is a vast expanse of flat-ish low scrubland, and then you get to these incredible gorges, where mighty rivers have, infinitesimally slowly, carved out magnificent sculpted walls in the red and orange stone. It’s truly mind-blowing.

Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. Oleś always says that. But it’s actually always amazing to me. These places are all so unique, so nature-random, they continue to blow my brains out. I deeply apologise for liking them so much.

The national park is about 6 hours north of Perth, which means it gets a bunch of city tourists. Some come here with high-tech mega-telescopic-lensed cameras, to take pics of the flowers, rock wallabies and other assorted goodies. But who needs that? My camera is just as good:

What? Are you blinder than me? Can’t you see the rock wallabies?

Clear as mud mate

But luckily I can get right up smell-close to the beautiful flowers.

I was here at Kalbarri many years ago, and it was just as beautiful, but it didn’t have the sort of infrastructure it does now.

It’s pretty over-the-top.

But you can take really cool pics from up there.

Well actually there’s amazing spots all over the place.

I admit the track did get a bit tricky at this spot. This actually was the way through.

This reminded me of the Larapinta Trail. A guy died on that hike. I’ll tell you about that sometime.

This lizard was legless

Confused yowie tracks

The national park also hugs the coast

Perth

Yay!!

I met Jean for a real lunch at Clancy’s, right on the beachfront at City Beach. We do that sort of thing. It was hot, after a long time there I eventually got a sunburnt face from the reflection of the sun on the water, through the ocean-facing glass by our table. I did not expect that. It was a nice view too.

It was great to catch up with him. He’s had a problem with his motorbike for weeks, and needed to race to the city by a deadline to sort it out, which it now is. He had trouble getting here though, due to that massive weather system that I also drove through. Those winds and water crossings are hardcore at speed on a motorbike.

Perth is a city of 2m people, it’s grown a lot since I was last here, and there’s plenty of cash flying around, you see it all over the place. The mining boom is back, many massive companies have their offices here, that means lots of employees with high wages and company accounts.

Ivory tower

There’s loads of art around the place.

At last, someone with properly proportioned arms and legs legs like mine

This poor guy had stepped on a nail. Me taking photos of his butt probably didn’t help much.

Getting your rocks off

It was really cold in the evening, so lots of people went here

It was great fun to be back in cafe ville. I headed down to Fremantle of course, sat in a massive Italian cafe trattoria called Gino’s, had a decaf, and wolfed into a massive piece of apple pie just like my big sis Ursula makes. It was line-ball as good as yours Urs (which is extremely rare).

And I just watched the world go by. And charged up all of my devices of course, as my solar charger has died in the arse. I cooked it in the hot sun up north.

Gino’s is a Freo institution, it’s been there for 40 years, it’s old school, it’s big, it’s got a great vibe,  it was packed, and I forgot to take a pic. I seem to do that quite a bit in cities, for some reason. Except when there’s something arty about.

Yay, the city!

I went to the cinema, saw some ok live music in Northbridge, and ate out once or twice (four hundred times).

I had a beautiful brunch and afternoon with an old friend, Asakti, and her partner Satyen, at their place, sitting outside in their stunning backyard Garden of Eden.

It’s an oasis in there, with flowers of all colours, so much food growing, a fishpond. It’s a haven of divine sculpted human-plant love in the flesh. And of course we ate from it too, fresh nutritious body and soul food.

It was so wonderful to see Asakti again. She used to live around Mullum, we occasionally did kirtan gigs together, she’s an amazing singer and harmonium player, and has a great sense of humour.

She’s one of those people you can see after not being in touch for years, and it feels like you just popped down the shop for a tick to get some cobbers and sherbets. It was a blessing to see her, and to meet Satyen, who’s a warm and interesting old hippy and fellow cyclist, who did the Europe-to-India overland trail in the 70s, back when it was seriously adventure travel.

And of course the crème de la crème of the beautiful afternoon was a great jam in Asakti’s little studio out the back.

Eve in the Garden, prehistoric flower in front, and the extremely tempting Tree of Knowledge at rear

Adam in the stunning floral section, looking particularly handsome, peaceful and content, in order to distract God from getting suspicious about his plot to raid the Tree that evening. (Eve had nothing to do with it btw, she was asleep at the time, but she got gaslit for it - as usual).

Jhana Grove

Set in the most beautiful bushland in the Serpentine hills near Perth, Jhana Grove Meditation Retreat Centre also happens to be the home of my friend Scotty.

And what a magnificent home he has. The whole property, and the adjoining Buddhist monastery of Bodhinyana, is forest, hundreds and hundreds of acres of it. It’s stunning. Beautiful granite outcrops, small creeks and waterfalls, grass trees, gum forests and jarrah groves make the place the most amazing peaceful hermitage. It’s rather conducive to quiet meditation, what a coincidence.

The Rains Retreat is on at the moment. The monks and retreatants are going for it.

Meditating that is.

In fact, they’re meditating pretty much all day for 3 months. And Scotty would be too, except that I’m here disturbing him.

He’s been the most amazing host. He’s shown me all around the property, it’s taken us hours, we’ve chatted deep into his meditation time, he’s cooked delicious dinners for me, and then watched as I ate them, because he only eats one meal a day, in the morning. And he’s given me his own beautiful meditation kuti to sleep in.

What a bloody guy, he must be enlightened or something.

Scotty built this little cutey all by himself, out of recycled materials he gathered from around the property and elsewhere. It’s beautiful, so peaceful, so nurturing. I slept so well in there, it’s the first time I’ve slept in a bed, not in my tent, for this whole trip.

Scotty has a place in Blackheath, in the Blue Mountains, and he goes there for a couple of months every summer. I asked him if he meditates much when he’s there. “Nah, not much,” he said. “Only 3 or 4 hours a day.” (What?! I spat out my chai at that point). “Well normally I’d do 10 hours a day.”

Sufferin’ succotash!

But it’s paid off.

You can feel it.

Scotty in his natural state

Scotty mindfully making sure none of the retreatants can get out

Not only has meditation helped Scotty be calm and peaceful, it’s also helped him with his Astrotravel.

Although Scotty looks like he’s just standing on a rock in the bush, when this pic was taken he was actually dancing like a maniac in a psychedelic dance club in Berlin. He told me about it later.

Bodhinyana Monastery was established by Ajahn Brahm in the 1980s, in the Theravadan style, the same school of Buddhism prevalent in Thailand, Burma, Sri Lanka, Laos and Cambodia. I’m sorta familiar with the vibe.

When I was in my twenties I did my first 10 day silent Vipassana meditation retreat at a monastery called Wat Suan Mokkh, near Surat Thani, in the south of Thailand. It was pretty much the most profound experience of my life to that point.

It was on a par with losing my virginity (which was definitely not a loss). It was nearly better than the Pink Floyd concert I went to in my teens.

I mean, the meditation was one thing. But add 10 days of complete silence to it, and add many amazing talks by the monks on the Buddhist understanding of how the mind works and how to meditate, and the experience was just unbelievable for me.

The thing about a hugely long period of silence is that not only do you not talk for all that time, but you don’t have to listen either. That means I had, for the first time in my life, the quiet, the focus, and the freedom to really go inside my own head, and to follow my thoughts.

They eventually, somehow, began to slow down, and I could see exactly what they were doing and where they were going. It’s quite an amazing thing.

For the first time in my life I began to understand how my crazy irrational reactive brain operated. It was profoundly freeing, and I’ve never quite been the same since. You must have noticed.

What? You haven’t?

Meditation is not for everyone of course. For some it’s really difficult, or impossible.

But if you ever get the chance to have a few days of total silence, and if you’re into it, it’s really worth a try.

Go for it. I dare ya.

Cape to Cape-ing

I just slept for 12 hours. And I’m still yawning. Maybe I should get back to my sleeping bag for another hour or two.

In another life, when I was in the midst of my incredibly busy parenting and work phase, especially when the kids were younger, I’d get home wired from a gig at 3am, wake up to a child’s finger up my nose at 6am, get up, play My Little Pony or read storybooks with the girls, get breakfast happening etc, and then head off to work all day. I’d be home at dinner time, be doing kids and domestic things, and then I’d have another gig, or I’d stay up late after the kids were in bed, because that was my time.

I honestly don’t know how I did it, (let alone how Brigitte did it), living on a couple of hours sleep a night for so many years. I was quite fine with it at the time, I never needed much sleep, I could function happily without it. Once every few weeks I’d get a massive headache and not be able to move for 24 hours, I’d sleep all day, then I’d be fine again.

I remember comparing my waking hours with my friend Sam’s once (before he had a child), and worked out that over sixty years of each of our lives with our then current sleeping regimes, I would end up with a whopping 20 years longer waking life than him.

Well, haha, that song’s been sung mate. Here I am now, well and truly catching up bigtime on all those years. My body is rejoicing.

I’m hiking alone, on a part of the Cape to Cape Track, a 130km hiking track from Cape Naturaliste to Cape Leeuwin, along the SW coast of WA.

I’m sorta planning to be here for 4 days. It’s incredibly quiet, I haven’t seen one hiker yet, in 24 hours. There’s only the sound of the ocean crashing against the rocky shore and beaches, the wind racing through the tall wiry melaleuca trees, occasional birds chirping, and parrots parroting.

You can’t really call the sound a large parrot makes a chirp, it’s too loud and obnoxious for that, maybe there’s another name for it, I don’t know. It’s like the sound you make when you’ve bitten into an apple and suddenly realise it’s rotten inside and there’s a worm in there too (well, half a worm), and you wanna get all that shit out of your mouth quicksmart.

It really is beautiful here, at my little campsite in the trees. I’m sitting on my Indonesian sarong in the (occasional) sun having my muesli breakfast, taking it all in. It’s cold. My fingers are like icy poles (I forgot my gloves and my puffer jacket), but I can’t be arsed making porridge to warm myself up. Laziness against all odds.

The wind is also slicing through my layers, maybe I’ll have to resort to putting on my rainjacket, which doubles as a very effective windbreaker. There’s ominous clouds over the ocean, maybe rain coming. Bugger, I might actually have to get up.

But without trying to be a hero I honestly don’t care about any of that. I’ve been in the bush so much lately that I’m just so used to going with it, adjusting to whatever the conditions are asking for. I hardly think about it. And I guess I know that I’m sorta prepared for any eventuality, I’ve got what I need (roughly).

Talk to me after it’s been raining solid for 3 days however and I might sound a bit different.

And now a Western grey just pogo-ed past.

This is the view from my second little campsite, it’s incredible.

I can’t believe how beautiful it was hiking here today. I’m not gonna try and describe it this time, I’ll let your fingers do the walking.

And again, I’m here all alone, just the waves, the breeze, the birds, and Skippy. Winter’s really good for that. My body’s tired from a solid day’s hiking, and it’s a really good tired.

I’m pigging out on trail mix, which, if they were honest about it, shouldn’t have the label “Trail Mix”. It’s totally false advertising. It should be called “Sultanas, Peanuts, One Walnut Only, And The Occasional Piece Of Sickly Sweet Dried Fruit If You’re Lucky, But Don’t Get Your Hopes Up Loser.”

It sorta tastes ok anyway, now that I’ve made it here, my tent’s pitched, and I’m chillin.

It’s surfing Mecca around here. The coast around Margaret River is one of the most famous surf spots in Australia. Beaches like Surfer’s Point, Main Break and North Point host the top professional surfers from around the globe. I met quite a lot of surfers on the track today, some were into chatting. I also saw loads of them watching surf porn.

Watching surf porn is generally done right out in public view, from carparks, little lookouts, headlands, and benches plonked in spots overlooking the sea for that very purpose. The surfers just stand or sit there for hours, unblinkingly staring at the waves, looking fixatedly along the coast, thinking.

If they’re with a friend you see them pointing at things out on the ocean - breaks, reefs, etc. They’ll talk to each other, but they won’t take their eyes off the sea, no way José. If they’re alone they’ll be on their phones, describing the conditions, checking out their mates’ reports from other spots, riding the net, decision making. It’s all important reconnaissance work.

And then of course they go surfing. It’s amazing to watch.

Lookin alright at Lefthanders

Dodgy river crossing due to unexpected soft quicksand. I nearly fell in with my pack.

Shark fodder. A tragedy.

I met a young Spanish couple today, on the long track from the carpark to the beach access at Lefthanders. They were very keen to ask me about the logistics of hiking the Cape to Cape track - about campsites, tent, water etc. I told them how cruisey it is, and how much fun I was having being in the bush.

They told me they’ve both been “stuck” in Australia for the past three years due to Covid restrictions, and it’s been so difficult they’ve just extended their working holiday visa for another two years.

They’ve pretty much surfed the whole time. And worked a little bit. They said they’ve been wanting to hike the Cape to Cape for ages, but keep looking at the ocean every morning and then just go surfing instead.

Mexican-Australian Rodrigo and his friend John from Sydney are here at the campsite with me tonight. They’re beautiful men, all our kids went through Steiner schools, Rodrigo’s just finished hiking the Larapinta, we’ve all got loads to chat about. We went to watch the sunset together, after another stunning day’s hiking. This is my last night on the trail. I’m so sad to leave.

Insects in sex

Kappadokya-esque towers

This bug is a visitor from Botswana, where she normally camouflages herself amongst tribal war shields

Bye bye Cape to Cape. I’ll seriously miss you.

Bibbulmaniacs

Yay! So, I’m gonna collect Miranda tomorrow, who’s flying in from Byron, and we’re gonna hike 335km of the Bibbulmun Track, a long distance hiking trail that goes from Perth to Albany. It’ll be a hoot. It’s also quite a long way to walk with a pack on your back. But we’re gonna do it over four weeks. No hurry no worry.

There’s one or two little towns on the way, so I’ll try and let ya know what it’s like. If you don’t hear from me for awhile I’m either out of range or dead. In either case don’t forget I love you.❤️