Just Walking

There are older stories within the country through which we have travelled, and people whose relationships with it extend far beyond our brief visits. Where those encounters prompted questions, I have allowed the questions room. I can share what I noticed, heard and thought without pretending that walking a marked track gave me possession of everything the place meant.

There was no urgent need for us to cover Singapore on foot before the conference. We could have filled the spare day more gently, seen selected places and arrived back with sufficient dignity to enter our room in the usual manner. Instead, something in the prospect of being there drew us out and kept us interested beyond the point where comfort would have suggested we had done quite enough.

What matters is that we have been there, among the buildings and people and businesses that make Melbourne what it is. We have seen parts of the city that have endured and others that are still emerging, and Robyn has had the opportunity to revisit a place she once knew in another stage of her life. We have also had the pleasure of doing it together, with enough time to notice the things that caught our attention along the way.

I thought again about how little planning had brought us there. A Christmas trip to Condobolin had become a New Year’s night at the zoo because we had looked for something special to do on the way home, found it surprisingly affordable and decided to give it a go. The tents alone had exceeded our expectations before the giraffes began accepting carrots.

That was the small trick in the remembering. Nothing about my recollection of winning had to be wrong for its prominence to give a slightly uneven account of what mattered. The tray had stayed in view, and the story attached to it had therefore remained close at hand. Other things had to wait for a morning when I was doing very little in particular, walking along an avenue and allowing one thought to lead to another.

The people who advised us against stopping could not have known which parts of the place would become ours. They had their experience, and Robyn and I were fortunate to have stayed long enough to acquire something different. We came away with more than an assessment of whether the town was worth the detour.

I have certainly walked like that. Familiarity gives the mind permission to get ahead, perhaps to the next hill or the things waiting at home, while the feet deal with the present stretch of road. We can cover a considerable distance without acquiring much more than confirmation that the route is still there.

Robyn had considered Caves House for dinner, and earlier in the day that had sounded a reasonable possibility. Once we were back, neither of us could summon the appetite for another meal, and we ended up on the lounge. There were new things to eat and drink put away in the van, gifts to take home, and a whale somewhere among the photographs. For the moment, all of them could wait while we sat down together.

I had no great conclusion to offer about existence, and the day had been enjoyable without producing one. There was pleasure enough in having been able to wander through a small part of that country, see what someone else’s patience had revealed and return with more to wonder about. Our own share of time included this evening together, which was sufficiently close at hand to appreciate.

After dinner, our attention moved upwards. There was little competing light, and the night sky gave us plenty to look at. We had phone apps to help identify what we were seeing, along with the monoculars from the van. The phones that had been less than helpful with the day’s communications could at least earn their keep in another capacity.

I still think of the view growing larger as we climbed, and of the seat that allowed us to appreciate it at leisure. Beyond that climb were flowers, water, gum trees and a succession of turns that kept revealing more country. There was room to be impressed and room to be ridiculous, which suited our family rather well. The canyon could accommodate both without any assistance from us.

From a distance, we may still look like two idiots dangling lines into water where nothing is biting. I can live with that assessment, especially if it leaves us free to continue for another drift. Julian is beside me, there is no shortage of water, and sooner or later one of us will have something to say. With any luck, it will be me announcing a fish.