Leaving The Area

11.30AM and the chores are done. As if bumping into two extraordinarily unpleasant people I’ve met, fully flourishing with this relative Australian backwater’s lawlessness, wasn’t enough, nor the physical ills this week, a ranger stopped by to tell me where best to park, and in doing so asked if I was camping there.

Happened I’d not, so the early morning ablutions somewhere else paid off.

All messages it’s time to go. I’m not well enough to travel, but hanging around will only make it worse.

In one of the pockets of sleep during a long, but quiet night, my dream nemesis came. The great white shark. I warned others swimming at the water’s edge, and I couldn’t lift my legs out of the gravely sand, stuck in a deep-sloped shore section just as I’ve swum down here recently.

The shark came in and eyed me, face to face. It was very real.

It’s about facing my fears. I could die from a diabetes issue here on. But I’ll start sensibly. North a bit.

And always, always alone.