Rivers and mountains, mountains and rivers

Crossing mountain ranges is one of life richest metaphors. I left Glenn, Bingara and the bush behind today. I had an amazing time in that little sleepy country town with its rows of neat houses, kangaroos in the gardens, and sheep in the backyard. Where the predominant hair colour was a blue rinse and hours passed by like lifetimes, and lifetimes were discussed over coffee by gaggles of grey haired little old ladies with papery skinned hands and walking canes. My mind and body holds those memories, especially my body, even now, where my inner thighs are still strained from a two hour horse ride (I delude myself that the pain has somehow firmed and toned my legs) on Sunday. We followed the Gwydir River, which flowed serenely past as the mid afternoon created dancing pools of light on the water and the green mountains full of Gum trees and Cyprus Pine in the background, felt as if they were giving Bingara and me, a big hug.

I’ve been horse riding before but this is the first time I ever felt like I’d ever really ridden a horse. “Up, down, up down, come on, squeeze your knees and lift that bum out the seat” called out Cathy Wade, a vivacious blonde wearing a full make up as she taught me to trot. “You want to get horse’s rhythm”.

Queenie my horse was dancing to a four four beat, whereas my derriere hitting the seat in three four timing – hence the arse-ache. Suddenly though Queenie and I felt like contestants on ‘Dancing with the Stars’ as our timing came together. “I think I've got it,” I screamed in jubilation. Cathy cracked a big smile, say “Yee Hah” she yelled. I let out a throaty exhilarated “Yee Hah” in response, that pierced the valley and was picked up by hearing aides across the valley.

I was at one with Queenie who responded by going faster and faster. The best moment was cantering with John, Cathy’s husband of 30 years, who still had a naughty schoolboy twinkle in his eye. He roped Queenie to his horse and then took off, I felt as if I were riding the winner of the Melbourne Cup I was going so fast. “Park your bum and relax,” said John. It felt like I was flying and the grin stretched across my face was as wide as the river we were following. I’m still paying five days later walking like, well; I just got off a horse.

Back on the road away from ‘out west’ as the locals call it, I followed the mountains up and up, and over through country and one horse towns. It was an amazing sight, seeing the dry plains and the ghostly white gums disappearing in my rear vision mirror whilst the rolling hills of rich green pastoral land materialized in front of me.

I tried to remain positive, however something about all that space and emptiness around me made me feel lonely, as again, it was me and my little red car loaded up with possessions on the road to who knows where. “I’m alone,” I said to myself in a moment of self-pity. “I’m truly alone”. I plugged my iphone into my cigarette lighter hoping music would ease my soul but it made me sadder, as the lyrics spoke of love found and love lost.

I fought the urge for two hours to call my ex for some comfort until it overwhelmed me, he didn’t pick up –not that I blame him for wanting to move on but I was really missing him. The music; Cat Power, Angus & Julia Stone (I had switch it off, it got too sad), Radiohead’s Amnesiac, Kings of Leon and Thom Yorke and the mountains urged me to keep following the road until I got over the towering Dorrigo State Forest where I’d spent some time when I was writing The Mag Hags, nearly three years ago. Note to self: finish one of the three books you’re writing.

I’m now staying 20 minutes outside Bellingen with my friends Mandy, Mark and their two daughters Layla and Larnie. I have known Mandy since my Picnic Point High school days when she was my best friend Lisa’s neighbour. I’ve always adored Mandy and although she is younger than me (a year but school years are like dog years) she has always been a wise caring soul with a big open smile and heart. Mark, her partner, has recently been diagnosed with cancer and is in the middle of chemotherapy, not that you know it from his mental attitude. He remains buoyant, positive and quite the inspiration. Staying with them has taught me a lesson in gracefulness and in acceptance of what is, even if it is painful and that you just have to get on with life, whatever it gifts you.