A week alone in Apollo Bay with Clive James and Patti Smith (written Nov 2019)

 “From now on, every day feels like your last

Forever. Let that be your greatest fear.

Your future is now to regret the past.

Forget your hopes. They were what brought you here.”

At the gates of Hell.  Clive James: Dante – The Divine Comedy

For the first time in my entire life, I am having a weeklong holiday by myself. Staying in a friend’s cottage in Apollo Bay. It’s a strange thing to contemplate, when you are so accustomed to planning a holiday as a couple, doing it alone seems completely alien. The wise one has headed off to Adelaide with his mates to watch the cricket test and visit wineries; this has become a biannual event, and on previous occasions I have just stayed home and continued to go to work. Now that I am not working, I thought I would take advantage and have a short break by myself. The plan is to walk, read and write in solitude.

Thinking about what I wanted to read while away, I had a couple of new books waiting, including Patti Smith’s Year of the Monkey. I also thought this time away would give me the chance to see if I could make a bit more progress reading Clive James’ translation of Dante’s The Divine Comedy, which I had started about two years ago, but had not progressed beyond Hell; Canto 31. His is the third translation I have tried to read, and this is the furthest I have gone. It is a beautiful and different translation, but still heavy going. So, it was with great sadness that I heard the Clive James had died this week, finally exiting ‘life’s departure lounge’, where he has lingered for far longer than he or anyone else expected. I had been looking for his column in the Guardian but noted there had not been one for some time. It is really quite extraordinary how much work he has completed since getting his ‘death sentence’ of leukemia in 2010. So it seemed fitting that I should give his Dante another try.

I watched an old interview he had given with Kerry O’Brien and was particularly interested in how he described having so much more clarity of mind, once he knew that he was on a limited time. Funny, how even though we are all on a limited time, we don’t really live our lives, with this in mind. We take our health and our ‘living’ for granted. Another thing he said in the interview, was about how his whole life was impacted by his childhood, the death of his father, and how he has been writing about his navigation of life through the lens of the ‘kid from Kogarah’.

Another interview I listened to this week, was with Clare Bowditch, who has just written a book; Your Own Kind of Girl, also about how her childhood shaped everything she thinks about herself as an adult. It made me think about and realise that we are all a product of our childhood; this period is not called our ‘formative years’ for nothing.

Every one of us is still that little kid; the kid who was happy or unhappy, praised or abused, fearful or adventurous, loved or ignored, stupid or smart, fat or skinny, pretty or ugly; and we carry those images of ourselves into adulthood and for all of our lives. It made me ponder what irreparable damage I may have done to my own children, with a foolish remark or dismissal.

I asked a friend the other day what it was like to be a grandmother? She said it is wonderful, not at all like being a parent, because there is no hurry. If they wake in the night, just cuddle them; if they spill their food just clean it up, if they are not ready for a bath, no problem, it can be done later. As parents we have so many other things that need doing, that children are rushed and regimented all the time. I fear I spent too much time yelling at my own children, hurrying them, scolding and reprimanding them and not enough time listening to them and enjoying their wonder and curiosity. With hindsight I regret not being more kind; I know I was often impatient, harsh and grumpy.

Kids, I’m sorry. I know I wasn’t a particularly bad mother, but I could have been better.  There were things I said and did that I shouldn’t have. I hope I have not harmed your image of yourself too much.

• 

• 

• 

Sunnyside Cottage is a cute old Victorian home, possibly transplanted here many years ago, with a lovely cottage garden filled with roses, geraniums and fruit trees, all starting to bear diminutive pears, apples and peaches. The weather is forecast to be wet and miserable, perfect for reading and writing, not so much for walking. The house is filled with Pauline’s beautiful quilting, from cushions to quilts and wall hangings, with comfy couches and a well-equipped kitchen.

I arrive on Friday afternoon, and settle into the house, only venturing into town by car to pick up a little food shopping, then back to cook myself some pasta and enjoy a glass of wine. A quite evening reading and listening to classic FM. Bliss.

I open Patti Smith’s Year of the Monkey and marvel at her ability to string thoughts, feelings and dreams into a continuous flow. I love her use of language, a favourite sentence I marked to remember.

“I rinsed off the dishes, prepared myself some spaghetti and sat on my porch with my plate on my lap, staring at my yard where persistent finger grasses had overrun the herbs and wildflowers, like settlers on the Indian plain.”

Wow, what a simile! So full of everything. I finish the book and think for a while about what to write. As Patti writes about turning seventy and counting many of those she has loved now dead, and I contemplate those who have been lost and the years to come. It’s a reality of old age. I think of Clive James again, and all the others that have gone in these last few years; Toni Morrison, Ginger Baker, Ursula Le Guin, Anthony Bourdain, Steven Hawking to name a few.

As it is so sunny, I decide to head off for a walk into town along the beach track. The blue of the sea is stunning, and feels almost like a summer’s day, though the breeze is sharp. I wander along the path, taking photos of the beach and birds along the way; Willie Wagtails, Striated Pardalotes, Crimson Rosellas, Little Wattlebirds and a European Goldfinch.

In town there is a small Saturday market with locals selling handcrafts and food, and as I wander through, I recall the last time we were in Apollo Bay, maybe about 15 years ago, when we bought a large blue ceramic jug from one of these stalls. The potter is still here selling his beautiful wares. I am tempted to buy one of his platters, but decide against it, as I would have to carry it home in my backpack, and it is very heavy. I walk further along past the town up the hill towards the golf course and the marina and down onto the beach past the breakwater. This area is rockier and I walk along looking in the little rock pools and generally taking in the beauty and peacefulness of this lovely part of the coast. On the way back through town I stop for a cappuccino and some fruit toast at the Bay Leaf Café, sitting in a window seat looking out at the passing parade and the beach.

Back home and a smashed avo lunch, then I decide to head out for a drive to check out a property I’d seen in the real estate window- yes, I know, I do it everywhere I go. It is up in the hills, but disappointing so I continue on my drive and find myself on the road to The Otway Fly.

Seeing I have come this far, I figure I may as well go and check it out, not realising how much further on it is, and on a narrow road through the beech forest, with a speed limit of 40kph. Very pretty but very slow going. The road is bordered by huge trees and thousands of trees ferns and other types of ferns; lush temperate rain forest; beautiful. Then I see a sign that says ‘Beware of logging trucks entering’ – ugh, how can it be possible that we log these magnificent forests? As it turns out the logging is of plantation forest of eucalypts and pines and had been going on for over 100 years. Still, it does seem such a shame that all that time ago we destroyed huge swathes of this forest for timber and to create plantations for further logging.

I arrive at the Otway Fly at around 3pm, so it is getting a bit late to do the zipline, (it takes about 2 and a half hours and they close at 5) so I opt for just the treetops walk, which only takes about an hour. The huge metal walkway meanders across the forest below the canopy but high above the forest floor. The huge trees are Mountain Ash, then below them there are Beech Myrtles and tree ferns. The trees are covered in epiphytes including the Kangaroo fern. You can venture out onto the cantilever section which sways in the breeze when you walk along it, somewhat disconcerting, but it gives a great view of the forest. There is also a 47-metre-high tower, accessed via a spiral staircase, which I decide is a bit beyond me, so I stay on the path. The walk is enjoyable, and there are few people, so it is quite easy to linger and take photos without crowds. I imagine it is much busier in high season. I head back to the shuttle station to get a ride back to the entrance as it’s all uphill, as I am feeling bit tired after having walked 15,000 steps for the day. The driver is chatty and advises a faster route back to Apollo Bay, via Lavers Hill, so I can avoid going back via the 40kph road.

Back home and a bit of reading, a glass of wine and some dinner, then as darkness is falling, I head out in the car, as the town Christmas tree lighting is about to happen. There are lots of people about, music playing, fireworks and an incredible LED light display on the huge Norfolk Pine at the centre of town. It seems so strange that in my lifetime, the technology of fairy lights has come such a long way!

• 

Sunday morning, I wake to wind and rain, but by the time I have showered and had some breakfast, the sky has cleared a bit, so I decide to go for a walk. I head out in the opposite direction of town towards Skenes Creek, along the beach path. The wind is strong and the sea is quite rough making for attractive photos. The sea is beautiful like this, its what I love about it, the way it is so changeable, from calm turquoise on a sunny day, to white caps and blue-grey waves that crash on the shore and the rocks. I rest on the beach for a while, watching the swell, but the weather is turning bad again, so I head home just in time to avoid a mammoth downpour. The rest of the day proves too cold, wet and miserable to venture out, so I read a little of Patti Smith’s book, then take a nap on the purple couch with quiet classical music playing in the background.

When you spend time alone like this, you think a lot. You also realise that there’s no conversation; it’s so quiet. I pick up Clive James’ Dante and start to read aloud, just to hear the sound of my own voice. Interestingly, I find it easier to understand poetry if I read it aloud. Poetry is meant to be spoken, not read, how else can you hear the dance of the rhythm and rhyme?

I had picked some of the flowers from the garden yesterday and put them in vases; scarlet, white and yellow roses and red geraniums; the roses are now dropping their petals on the table; but I’m not cleaning them up till I leave.

I turn on the TV to watch the Margaret Attwood special. I am so inspired by these older women, her and Patti Smith, and the workload they have taken on in their seventies. They both go on tour around the world talking and performing on a punishing schedule, and seem to thrive on it. I envy their energy.

I wake in the middle of the night to rain pounding on the roof and the wind lashing the trees outside. After a while I fall back to sleep, hoping some of this rain is falling at home.

In the morning after breakfast I decide to head out to Kennett River to see if I can see some koalas.

The car is making a strange noise and I discover that something is hanging down near the front right wheel, so I go in search of a mechanic to have a look. I find an RACV centre and the mechanics put it up on the hoist and reattach the loose cover over the oil filter. I am relieved it is no big deal and head into town to buy some warmer clothes, as I didn’t pack enough. Now I am sporting an Apollo Bay windcheater, tourist clothes. I decide to have a coffee and some pancakes at The Bay Leaf Café where I am recognised by the waiter; I’m becoming a regular.

Next off to Kennett River, but the sea along the way is so magnificent, I have to stop and take some photos of the waves crashing on the rocks; the power of the sea is so immense, you can really feel it today. It occurs to me that whatever we humans do to destroy the earth, that it will survive; the ocean will take us back; it will have its revenge in the end. It’s a comforting thought.

I find the road that leads to the area where koalas can be seen, at the bottom there are a few tourists feeding birds, but I drive past them and wind up the hill, where its quieter and there are fewer people. I see several koalas along the way, nestling in the crook of branches, mostly having a snooze. One or two are awake and I stop and take photos. On the way back I stop to help two girls whose car has become stuck in the ditch beside the road. I am not much help, but I give them the number of the RACV in Apollo Bay where I had been in the morning. Down near the main road the river forms a wetland area, so I walk along and photograph some Great Cormorants and Australian Wood ducks with ducklings.

I head home, read a little, do some writing and then eat some roast chicken and salad I picked up at the supermarket.

I watch a crazy movie on SBS about a 100 year old Swedish man who escapes from his nursing home and goes on an adventure, accidentally ripping off some gangsters and ending up in Bali with his (their) millions. Amusing.

Next day I decide I will make the long drive to the Cape Otway lighthouse and the Twelve Apostles. The weather is ominous, driving rain and wind all along the road. On arrival at the lighthouse, I find that there is an admission fee and that the power is off, so their EFTPOS does not work. What to do? Too bad, I go back to the main road and head towards the twelve apostles.

It’s interesting how the landscape and vegetation changes. On the cape the trees are stunted and contorted by the unrelenting Southern Ocean gales, back inland a bit you are suddenly in rainforest with straight tall candle barks and tree ferns.

The carpark at the Twelve Apostles looks pretty busy, so I continue on to the Loch Ard Gorge and stop there. I walk down to the Thunder Cave viewing place. The waves are awesome. It’s so wild. I love this. There are no toilets here, so I head onto Port Campbell for a stop. I eat lunch in the car while watching the waves crash over the pier. The port area is a narrow opening in the sandstone, where the water thunders into a small sandy beach. It’s hard to believe that this is a port, on a day when the waves are so treacherous, you could not bring a boat in here anywhere.

Back to the Twelve Apostles, now it seems a bit quieter. What they have done with the kiosk and carpark and paths to the lookouts is quite good. The walkway has an underpass under the road, and the paths are wide and paved, so that they are accessible to all. The wind at the lookout is unbelievable. I feel glad there are handrails as I fear I will fly off like a tossed plastic bag. The Apostles do not disappoint, especially as the waves are so fierce today, it makes a great spectacle. There are quite a few tourists, but its not too crowded. I take some photos then leave, watching a helicopter take people off for a joy ride; doesn’t seem like a great day for a ride in this wind; the windsock is vigoruously flapping horizontal. Braver than me.

The wise one decides to return from Adelaide and takes a flight to Avalon where I meet him and we drive back to Sunnyside cottage.

The next day we have a gentle morning stroll and breakfast in town then head out to the lighthouse for another try. This time all is well, and we take the walk out to the old lighthouse, which you can climb inside of and see the light. We walk out onto the walkway around the top section of the lighthouse, taking care to hold onto anything loose as the wind on the west side is intense, so much so that you can’t stand it for more than a few seconds. We head back to the little café they have there, whose board outside advertised scones with jam and cream; however, we are disappointed as they are sold out.

We head back home then out for dinner at one of Apollo Bay’s best restaurants; La Bimba. Upstairs overlooking the main street and beach, the food was lovely Spanish style.

The next day we say goodbye to Sunnyside cottage, but vow to come back another time, as its such a lovely home away from home.