Back to nature

I can't remember the last time I escaped Sydney. She wraps me up in her pulsating breast and I happily suckle. I throw myself into her upbeat pace of things to do, places to see and friends to visit, then one, two, three months down the track I wonder why I'm feeling so exhausted. 

That's not to say Sydney doesn't have her pockets of paradise where I can step back and breathe again. I live near Bondi Beach, after all. And it's gorgeous – in winter. However, on a warm day, it seems the whole of Sydney flocks to its golden sand and you can no longer see it. All you can see is a great sprawl of people, playing, reading, sunbathing and flirting under the perfect sky.

It's a stark contrast to the secluded spot on Wallis Lake near Forster in NSW that we boated to today. Not another soul around, only our small party, a curious pelican that floated near to see who was there, and three graceful dolphins, diving breezily through the water. A swim in the lake under the bright blue sky and here I was, heaven on Earth.

I'm back at the camp site now, happy to be on dry land. A kookaburra laughs in a tree nearby, a bush turkey runs past, an open fire burns in front of me, and a lamb stew boils and bubbles in the coals. The air is dry and brushes cool against my face. It's a damn sight better than the evening I thought may be before me when the boat got caught in the shallows on the way back, far out in the middle of the lake, the reeds an unwelcome sight as they waved to us from below.

That's the thing about nature, it can surprise you at every turn unless you know your shit. In hindsight, it probably would've been a better idea to find out BEFORE we went out that 80% of the lake was only knee deep.

Yet, here I am to tell the tale and none the worse for it. A few drinks and a smoke later and I'm laughing along with the kookaburras. Just look at that bush turkey run, its large black body atop tiny thin legs that seem to defy gravity, a blur as they rush past.

Not that I want to romanticise nature too much, like my sister's friend who attempted to feed a gonna. The gonna happily accepted the offering and bit into half her finger as well. When she tried to pull it out of the goanna's mouth, the goanna wouldn't let go, clearly not happy that he had to forfeit the tasty hors d'oeuvre he'd been given.

Yet it's difficult not to romanticise nature when you see the stars on a clear night. In the city, it's hardly worth the neck strain to look up unless the moon is particularly spectacular. Yet, here, away from the lights, the whole galaxy smiles down at you, and you can't help but smile back, an insignificant speck in the bosom of Mother Nature.