Bass Point Reserve, South Coast NSW.
I found a beautiful empty wineglass shaped strip of sand. I couldn’t swim because I had just had a Ghostbuster tattoo inked on my calf.
Bill Fucking Murray’s laconic face with a script saying ‘Busting Makes Me Feel Good’. I’m pleased with the tattoo. It has no deep meaning or story attached to it. It’s just a stupid, poorly thought out idea I followed through with.
Just like this trip I’m on.
I love it.
The sun cracked through and the wind stayed fast.
This is the lower end of the mid-north New South Wales coastline.
Seal Rocks. There’s Seals at the base of the headland.
South of Seal rocks you have Lighthouse Beach, which has a Lighthouse.
And south of Lighthouse Beach you have Treachery Beach. Where some shit must have went down.
It was spitting down all day. Spitting on all the families who had loaded up the campers and headed to the coast for the end of the holidays. Spitting on the windscreen as I rolled through town after town. Spitting on my arm hanging out the window as I turned down another coastal road.
It was muggy as hell. I felt a greasy slick on my skin. Driving makes me irritable. After a few hours I’m a hazzard.
I found a place to camp for the night. The spit turned to a shower and then a downpour. I swam in a grey looking ocean to clean up. To clear my head. The water was like ice on my skin but the surface of the water was glassy and calm. I grabbed handfuls of sand and scrubbed the dirty greasy feeling from my skin. Afterwards I bodysurfed into a few small waves in the shorebreak. A good way to end the day.
It rained for two more days and I was never dry. The car began to stink of damp. It was a bit of a downer.
It’d be sunny soon enough. Sure.
There’d be better times ahead. Of course.
And it was, and there were. And so on…
I set up camp in a dusty corner. I cant tie a knot. My father knew a slew of knots. He’s have scaffolding, planks of wood for boxing up driveways, ladders and all sorts bound to the tray of his ute with truckers hitch’s holding it all down. Those one’s used leverage for tension. Like a system of pulleys.
I know how to roll and truss a pork belly. Butchers knots. I know a couple. Sometimes they slip.
No good for camping, Butchers knots.
These things you learn.
Getting crazy on the waltzers but it’s the life that I choose
sing about the sixblade sing about the switchback and a torture tattoo
and I been riding on a ghost train where the cars they scream and slam
and I don’t know where I’ll be tonight but I’d always tell you where I am
in a screaming ring of faces I seen her standing in the light
she had a ticket for the races just like me she was a victim of the night
I put a hand upon the lever said let it rock and let it roll
I had the one arm bandit fever there was an arrow through my heart and my soul
and the big wheel keep on turning neon burning up above
and I’m just high on the world
come on and take a low ride with me girl
on the tunnel of love