Dubbo Zoo

In May my ex-husband and I took our daughter on a road trip, in his campervan, to visit Dubbo Zoo. Driving through regional NSW, a sketchbook balanced precariously on my knees, I made notes about the journey. I remember being fascinated by the changes in the landscape, how one minute you could be in what seemed like absolute wilderness, and the next slap bang in the middle of coal mining territory. Unfortunately I didn’t take any photographs of the trip; I have a large, rather ostentatious camera, and I don’t like looking like a tourist, even when I am one. It was also clear that many of the small towns we visited were struggling financially, and it would seem like bad manners to run around shooting a dying town. 

After we got back, Sophie discovered the sketchbook and began drawing in it, so many of the rough notes I made (hard to read anyway due to the motion of the campervan) have been partly obliterated by toddler art. As it seems unlikely that they’ll survive many more drawings, I thought I’d transcribe what remains here. 

1st May 2011

Sandy Hollow-Art and Espresso-next to public school. A passive/aggressive grey cat- a healing cigarette- Sophie screaming ‘it doesn’t have lines on it’. Superb scones/ wired on coffee. Assumed the art work was by a female.

Merriwa- ‘home of the ?’- like Bowraville, the same wide streets, sleepy feel. Wondered at the cost of real estate then noticed a big glossy land release sign. Driving out of town noticed an exquisite palamino pony sharing a paddock with a herd of black steers. Didn’t stop- strip of lime green- silver grey yellow- road camber and rain run off.

Willy Wally Gully- sun going down- the drip picnic area- Ulan- Golbourn River- 80s music- radio/cd Cliff Richard/Pat Benatar/Crissie Amphlett, honouring the spirt of the bus’ era.

Toddlered journal

2nd May, 2011

It made me realise, despite my nature loving pretensions, I’m a city girl : said to Sophie ‘that’s some kind of frog’. Something stole soap during the night, Aaron irate. I consoled him with ‘don’t worry, you’re not the only one frothing at the mouth’.

A million stars/tall trees/open fire- Wolf Creek paranoia. Next morning, top of dirt road, walking hitchhiker. “That’s a funny place to be picked up- maybe he stole my soap”. Abandoned car by the side of the road.

So cold that if your arm out of bed, elbow locked, arm froze.

Morning-cheese on toast- walk to the Drip Gorge (better than Kakadu) 2.8km return.

Within five minutes driving through a massive mining area- huge trucks/high tensile power lines/seemingly endless coal trains. The Whitlams. Counting Crows. Black and white tree trunks. Stop in mining town of Ulan to ask directions. Pretty abandoned weatherboard Catholic Church, flaking white paint.

On our walk, square wombat droppings prompted a consideration of what manner of sphincter muscle would produce such a shape.

Ancient superstition: naming calls.

The price of imagination is fear- crawling into someone else’s skull and trying to see the world through their eyes, including maniacs (84 left at Dunedoo)- Divided Heart argument, offensive, potentially to non artist mothers, suggested that….

‘Dunedoo- where people make the difference’- red brick building. Shattered windsock.

The White Rose Cafe- 50s- tiny railway station-fresh coat of cream paint. Deserted pie shop- nice food. Threatening to rain “all this long grass and no stock to eat it. They got rid of all their stock because of the drought. Then the rain came, and there was no stock there to eat it”.

Codeine freak from way back, wouldn’t sell it because “I don’t know you”. Wondered if he’d got the same answer if he’d been wearing a suit.

Aaron’s gift of talking to marginalised people, for all my social justice principles, a warmth that I lack. Humanity?

The old and the new in the town bakery: old men, prematurely old, aged by the drought, RM Williams, jeans, caps. Young people in bright clothing and funky hair cuts. A woman in a zebra top, 50s, barges in, ignores or doesn’t see the queue, walks up to the counter and orders a caramel tart. They leave at the same time as me and she lets the door swing back in my face, again oblivious to my existence.

Truck driver ordering hot chocolate with sugar, sweet tooth, Aaron is a former long distance truck driver “wants to stay awake”.

No photos, feel like I’m intruding. Old Tassie joke about mainlanders visiting the island with a tenner and clean shirt and not changing either. Always stop and buy something in small towns.

4th May, 2011

Wednesday night: Millthorpe- Basalt.

Wednesday: Jeff Minchin exhibition- Dubbo Zoo- tortoises, super playground in Orange.

The toddler strikes again!

5th May, 2011

Thursday morning: coffee in Millthorpe General Store. Yellow labrador. Two schoolchildren smiled at me.

All sorts of vague dream/plans swirling through my head. Move here and let Sophie complete her primary school education.

Sitting by a big fire, checked out of parenting mode, sipping a Glenmorangie single malt. Overpriced.. keyhole windows, stained glass. School kids running up morning flag. Lollipop woman, friendly, assembled a huge pile of leaves. Sophie kicking leaves, red hooded jacket that Aunty Rose sent her. Trees various shades of red and orange. Cold night. Chest infection.

Millthorpe- still country (Bellingen a bunch of people from Sydney dumped in country) “precious”- sharp divide newcomers/locals… (round a corner and….be “home”). Conversation with woman in Orange park, while our girls played together. Grown up in Orange, now lives in Brisbane, she said, sounding proud, says ‘yous’. Referred to Tasmania as home and surprised myself.

Animals in various states of depression- a few perky specimens: camels, elephants (those accustomed to long association with humans- a bad marriage)… the others….

Otter society is strongly matriachal. Adolescent females peel off from the pack, living a solitary life until “the time is right”. Returning, according to… males hunt and…care for a pile of communal faeces… a territorial behaviour… Housekeeping was also… at the caravan park. A kind of suburban competitiveness. Intensified…neatly…belongings…mats.

The morning at the start of the world, coming out of Millthorpe. Cold air, bright low sun, cloudless sky. Dark shadows, winter foliage. Super clear vision, probably last night’s whisky.

Use italics for memory sequences/creative ideas/conversations. This idea that travel… through layers of the mind/memory/time.

A belt of fog over the distant horizon, road vanishing into, quickly burned away. Stop for a brick toilet break, by the time we were back on the road, the mist had burned away. …Surprised how  happy I am just bumming around. Not having to be anywhere by a particular time.