It’s 1pm on Friday and I’ve reached my limit. After four weeks of stress and pressure I’m about to explode. I need to escape my desk, my life and my mindset. An hour later I’m standing on the top desk of the Strader oke Island Ferry with my camping gear in a bag at my feet. I’ve left my motorbike on the mainland and am on a spontaneous microadventure inspired by an Alastair Humphreys Vimeo clip I watched earlier this week.
Before long the mainland is barely visible on the horizon behind me. I feel myself start to slowly unwind. By the time I disembark, I can almost handle the phone call with the real estate agent that ends with him helping me out by getting someone out to inspect the issue that arose in yesterday’s building inspection. He assures me that if the issue is not structural our buyer still wants to go ahead and that if it is the sale will go ahead if we can rectify the defect. I can only wait for tomorrow’s report.
I walk to Bradbury’s Camp Ground. I booked it from my desk at 1:05pm. It’s not wild but it’s on the water and pleasant enough. I pitch my tent on the soft unmown grass. It’s been two months since my last camp. That’s just far too long.
I wander into tiny Dunwich to look for food. I grabbed some things at work but don’t fancy baked beans, tuna or porridge for dinner. My exploration takes me past Island Fruits (or something like that). It’s divine. I buy a chocolate brownie, and a small haloumi and pumpkin curry to take back to camp. At $10 in total it’s a good buy.
Back at camp I lay on the beach writing some thoughts in a book. It’s a good release and I start to unwind. The sand between my toes helps. The brownie is delicious.
As the sun sets over Moreton Bay I set off to explore the tidal flats. Soldier crabs march along, leaving their balls of sand along the beach. I listen to their humming as the rainbow lorikeets screech in the nearby trees. I slowly unwind some more and realize this period of transition will go more easily if I go with it rather than trying to force anything or grasp too tightly. I must be patient like the ocean’s tides and the changing seasons.
I stop to pay my respects to the old people who walked here before and asked them to guide me with their wisdom.
And then I returned to camp in the darkness to heat and eat that scrumptious food I bought earlier.
I can’t rush what’s happening and I can’t live for tomorrow. My life is now, no matter how awkward or sad now might feel.