19 Mar 2011
There was a disturbing clatter as my camera dropped from the van’s passenger seat onto the concrete curb below. This was followed by an intense inspection of the LCD screen on the back, noting a few minor scratches but nothing that couldn’t be lived with. This was then followed by an intense string of profanities as the next step in the inspection process, the flip of the On switch, brought only the lens trying unsuccessfully once, twice, three times to extend out from its bent casing. Say it isn’t so. Say our one and only camera here with us in Tasmania isn’t busted. Say anything except that word that starts with “S” and ends in “T”.
What to do in such a situation? Ask directions. Not directions on how to put the hopelessly fractured thing back together but directions to the nearest Target, K-Mart, Big W, or Harvey Norman. The blog cannot go on without its visual aids. And don’t fret about the cost, even though everything in Australia costs at least three times what it would in the States, even though you chose to leave behind a paycheck a few months back, even though you’ve been traveling (another word for “spending”) for the past four months. Nope, don’t fret, just move forward with the purchase of a new (as cheap as possible for a still reasonable quality) camera knowing that you have saved the day, saved the blog, and saved a few more memories to color and ink. The blog must go on.
And on it goes, now from the quaint historic town of Stanley on the northwest coast. I heart Stanley. I heart the name this wee town shares with My Man Stan, the best darn dog that ever lived in Bellevue. I heart that the heart of Stanley is “The Nut”, a big slab of rock behind town that didn’t erode away like all of the rock previously around it, to put it in less than technical terms. I heart that one can hike The Nut, walking exactly vertically up its side, the incline so steep that one’s knuckles literally drag along the path in front of one and so steep that long-legged folk like Gina must dance a mighty jig to descend, a sort of Electric Slide meets the Hustle because to do otherwise, to try and face herself forward and walk like a normal-legged person, would plummet her head over cartwheeling heels, her center of gravity being far too high above the sloping path below. The only thing I didn’t heart about Stanley and The Nut, besides the dusk-frisky wallabies and wabbits darting menacingly across our paths? That the battery for our new camera was still charging, so no color and ink memories to share from the top, that beautifully sunny, scenic view from the top.
What we can share? The fully-charged photos from the following day. No blue sky, but still a pretty scene.
