This will be a little post because I only have a small scrap of paper to write it on, and send home to one of my Track Angels to scribe up. It comes from my hand through her hand to you, with the love, vigour, fragrance and magnificence of the Karri forest, down on the floor of which I have been walking for a few days now. The whole northern section of the track – that is, the first three+ weeks for me, was through Jarrah woodland which is usually quite open with a few trees over thirty meters and a robust understory of grass trees, banksia, zamia, casuarina (and many other plants I don’t know the names of). And all of a sudden, there is a tight transition of a kilometre or so, and there are the Karri trees, unique to this tiny corner of the world, giant, graceful, almost other-worldly beauties with flawless straight silvery trunks and a canopy that towers sometimes sixty even seventy meters above. They are breathtaking – or maybe breathgiving. Truly beings to aspire to resemble in any symbolic, spiritual, metaphorical way we might.
The understory of the Karri forest – at least the path taken by the track – are closely hedged by Karri Hazel, water bush and other spindly things and make long, cool green tunnels. It’s like circulating through an artery of the forest. Or sometimes I feel like an ant looking up through grass stalks, really feeling the living, green cloak that holds and shields our fertile and vivid places to live. The trees are precious. They are our aunties and they want us to gather round and listen to their stories.
P.S. I am taking a short break from the Bibbulman to walk the Cape to Cape trail on the Indian Ocean, a little way to the west. I’ll be back in Pemberton Thurs 25.11 to resume, only slightly behind schedule…