Welcome back to the stunning conclusion to our tawdry tale of woe-begotten wallies. In this the final double-episode there will be revelations, intimations and in the end abrogation of aspirations as we let go of our desire to break out of the rut of 15 years solid routine and settle back into the comfortable buttock-groove of our sedentary natures.
Without further ado let's jump right into the first part of our finale:
Episode 5: Reasonable Precautions (plus Tea-time for Hitler)
Gathering up the small amount of luggage I had brought up to the house before the revelation of the brown water, we returned to the car, loaded up and, leaving the key under the BBQ hood, set out one final time in search of shelter, arriving finally, after 18-odd hours, at the place which we would call home for... well for a fairly short period of time at this point. As we pulled into the driveway next door I was once more struck by the beauty one can find in the absence of filthy, spider-infested trees.
The house was directly opposite the driveway and only minimally encroached by tree. It was a single story, wooden affair with a large central living, dining & kitchen area separating wings to the left and right; each containing 2 bedrooms, 1 bathroom and an en suite off one of the bedrooms. Best of all the Port Wing (in the absence of any idea of the direction the house was aligned to I'm going nautical) was that closest to the car park and virtually devoid of tree or shrubbery. We quickly decided upon sleeping in this section of the house and shunning the Starboard and, no-doubt, incursion-threatened wing. After checking all windows and ensuring all were closed and locked, I went back out to the car (which I had temporarily parked outside the house in the shade of the many-tree'd - but noticeably webless - section of the grounds) and began bringing in the luggage for what I prayed would be the last time.
While I was about this, Mari and Josie had the opportunity to begin exploring the house in greater detail and what wonders they did find. Firstly while the original house had been very modern-looking and very well kept, this house had an air of being much more "purpose-built". The purpose being to get a good return on investment rather than premium experience for the occupants. The floors were of varnished particle board (and pretty thin particle board at that) over joists raised above the ground. The kitchen wasn't yet completed; the gaping hole in the floor-cabinets awaiting the dishwasher that was surely on order and the skirting missing from one section of wall. The rough, unfinished wooden pillar in the middle of the living area featured a light-switch which did nothing (the 10 cent piece sized hole in the floor at its foot mute evidence of the vagaries of building contractors in the area or at least their electrician sub-contractors) and the double beds in the two main bedrooms turned out to be two singles pushed together.
Additionally the lighting while plentiful, was rather ineffective. After turning on all the lights I could find (about 12 would you believe in the living area alone) the place was only marginally brighter than your average coal mine. Looking out the back sliding, glass doors I found an enormous window complete with glass and metal frame leaning up against the back of the building and a bunch of half used paint tubs, bricks and other building errata laying outside the back door.
Clearly this one was a work in progress.
By contrast the house next door which we had originally been slated for was a palace and had obviously been bought by the retreat to offer at a substantial premium over their other... abodes. Presumably they had picked it up at a bargain price after the owners had fled the campaign of terror inflicted upon them by the horrors in the trees.
At the end of the day however (and given our desire to avoid still being in search of accommodation by the end of another day) it was a big, roomy house with a large living area you could relax and stretch out in. The high ceilings enhanced the feeling of space and ensured that if there was an incursion, the distance from us to the Abomination(s) would be maximized, and the wall of windows at the front of the living area ensured maximum sunlight in the 1st half of the day (the mountain at the house's back ensured gloom for the remainder) and afforded a picturesque view of the fields, river and mountain opposite. In a gargantuan act of mental agility to rival the laws of fluid dynamics I embraced the new environs and set about retrieving the last of the gear from the car, instructing Mari to ensure that she kept all bags closed to avoid nasty surprises (which she ignored, to my aggravation, for the rest of the weekend).
After leaving Mari and Josie to sort out all the paraphernalia we had brought with us, I took the car down to the car park, selected a spot exactly equidistant from the trees at either end and set about implementing a few "reasonable precautions". Retrieving the professional grade creepy-crawly killer from the boot, I set about spraying a meter-wide swath of arachnid death around the car, proceeding on to the gaps between the doors and the body of the car, the under-side of the body, the wheel-arches and the bottom edge of the entire frame. Satisfied with the protections now enswathing the car I moved onto the house where I sprayed the door and window-frames and the landing outside the door (which I now saw had an enormous gap underneath just begging to be violated by creeping horrors). Returning to the in of doors I found Mari and Josie relaxing on the couch, the one reading a "woman's magazine" and the other playing her DS.
Sweaty, grubby and insect poison encrusted, I grumbled my way to the bathroom where I proceeded to shower and change, making a mental division between the last 19hours and the next. The holiday from hell was over and a new day was to begin. Well, the late afternoon of a new day at least.
Emerging from my cocoon cleansed and in fresh threads I joined my lovely wife and progeny in the living room. Seating myself upon the second leather couch (at least the furniture in this joint was superior to the other place) I faced my family and waited for my presence to be acknowledged. Giving up after 5 minutes of oblivious magazine reading and game playing I said:
"So, what are we going to do now?"
"Relax"
"That's it?"
"That's it"
"We could have stayed in Sydney for that!"
"It's not relaxing at home. I feel like I should be doing housework"
"You don't do housework"
"Yes but I always feel like I should be"
"How about we go to dinner?"
"Sure"
"Ooooooookay, I'll just organise that shall I?"
"Yup"
This entire conversation occurs without eyes being raised from the thrilling adventures of celebrities played out upon the glossy pages of No Idea and Womens Weakly.
I must admit here that the crack about housework was entirely apocryphal and I was expecting an angry retort rather than the witty response I did receive. In fact while we do have cleaners come once a month the bulk of the rest of the housework is done by Mari. Too often including my jobs as well.
Since the info sheet with the number of the retreat people was in the car and I couldn't be bothered going out to get it, I rang information and got the number of the restaurant which had been the original reason for my organizing a trip to Wisemans Ferry in the first place. See, a co-worker of Mat's had heard him speak of the Swiss Eiger we go to regularly in Sydney and had mentioned a Swiss restaurant in Wisemans Ferry that was supposed to be very good. It was called the Forgotten Valley Swiss Restaurant and apparently had a B&B attached to it. So I did a search on www.whitepages.com.au for "Forgotten Valley", finding the retreat listed and booked via email. So I get the number from information and give it a whirl.
The line was answered after a brief period of overheard laughter by an amused lady who had obviously been having a joke with someone on their end. I asked if we needed a booking (how many people could there possibly be looking for a night out here!?) and was told, in a tone full of mirth, "oh yes, every time the phone rings my husband interrogates me." As she said it my eyes happened to fall upon the woodbox (for storage of, not made of, although it was) by the front door. And I noticed with alarm that it was covered in swastikas!
The words Swiss, interrogate & a swastika flashed in my minds eye repeatedly and, remembering an old routine of Robin Williams' I was momentarily thankful we did not own a BMW.
Slightly put off I stammered out a request for a table for 3 for 5:30pm and figuring, while I have her on the phone, I may as well ask for directions rather than wander around the grounds looking for the restaurant I inquired as to the location of the place. And was asked which bank of the river we were on. Like I had any idea. Realising that she had no way of knowing we were staying at the retreat and that she was likely thinking farther afield I informed her that we were guests of the retreat. And was told to catch the ferry to the other side of the river, turn right and go about 600m down the road. Turns out the Forgotten Valley Swiss Restaurant has nothing whatsoever to do with the Forgotten Valley Retreat. Not only that but once I explained the confusion she seemed quite amused that we were staying there and asked if there were many people at the retreat at the moment. In a tone that spoke volumes. An encyclopedic number of volumes filled with tales of woe and sadness and people to be pitied.
Thanking the lady vaguely I hung up and related the wealth of knowledge with which I had been impregnated in the short phone conversation. My long-suffering wife was less than surprised to learn of my incompetence anew at finding the correct accommodation and unsurprisingly alarmed at the decorations upon the wood box.
Thinking it must simply be some generic pattern that some young punk had scraped the paint off of the parts that resembled swastikas we took a closer look. And found that no in fact it was actually a generic pattern surrounding very clearly defined and purposely included swastikas. Thinking this quite odd, slightly disturbing but vastly less interesting than the rumbling in our stomachs, we exchanged shrugs and went to get the Spudlette ready for the journey to dinner.
Leaving the house I looked about the landing in the hopes of seeing some evidence that my defenses were working. Alas there were no bodies of Abominations upon the stoop to sate my blood lust. Making our way down to the car I instructed wife and the Spudlette not to touch the car (since it was covered only a few hours previously with insect poison) and opened the doors for them.
Our journey down to the ferry was uneventful now that we had had so much experience with driving around the general area. The ferry was just arriving as we pulled up and so we proceeded onto it without much of a wait and we all had our very first car ferry experience (well I went on the ferry to Tasmania when I was 3 but of course I dont recall it). It was quite pleasant and so smooth that we were surprised to see the scenery moving and had to look back to confirm that we were indeed moving away from the near shore. Josie was very excited by this but became convinced we were going to crash as we approached the far terminal.
Disembarking at the other end we turned right, as directed, and proceeded down the road where, true to form, we drove straight past the restaurant.
To be fair the restaurant was perched atop a hill about 4 storeys above the road way, the sign was on the other side of the road and the light was fading (since the mountains on the east and west of the valley meant late sunrises and early sunsets) so it was only once we were right up on the sign that we could see that it did indeed say "Forgotten Valley Swiss". But by that time of course the driveway was past.
Following a brief repeat of the u-turn discussion (see Part 1) I turned around, located the driveway and drove up the steep slope to the restaurant car park.
Whilst it was perched amongst the woods of the mountain, there was enough space cleared that there was no imminent danger of infestation by the Horrors. Upon exiting the vehicle I turned around and immediately saw to my later self-flagellation that the B&B that was attached to the restaurant was the top two floors of the same damned building! And, that there was a third floor that seemed to contain a single penthouse type room (it was a large building with a peaked roof) which would have offered absolutely stunning views to any competent enough to secure lodgings there. I pointed it out to Mari and received my well-earned look of disgust as reward.
As we approached the restaurant Josie went ahead and Mari, of course, began snapping photos of her. After a minute one of the proprietors came out and offered to take a photo of us all with the vista of the river and mountain afforded by the height of the location as backdrop. After taking the pic we entered and were seated at a nice table with a wonderful view of the valley beyond the window. We were just admiring the interior decoration and commenting on the differences between this place and the Eiger in Sydney when the waitress brought over the specials of the day and we nearly burst into gales of laughter. The days specials were almost identical to the specials the Eiger commonly offers and written in chalk upon a portable blackboard exactly as the Eiger people do. Complete with little illustration of Swiss origin.
I was sorely tempted to order my usual (Beef Burgundy half Spatzle/half Roesti) Eiger meal in order to compare the two but finally decided to instead partake of a meal the Eiger does not offer (Gypsy Roast Beef). For the first time I managed to resist the urge to get the Pea and Ham soup as entree (it always fills me up too much to finish my main) while Mari enjoyed her usual Swiss entree of fried Camembert and did have the Beef Burgundy for main.
The food was good, the child well behaved and the conversation of people around us yobbish. The music was very Swiss sounding but also very different from the Eiger where I seem to recall more polkas being in evidence. Dessert was Apple Strudel for me and neither of us can remember what Mari had (being that she has blocked out the whole weekend and it evidentally wasn't something I wanted some of). Finishing our meals we paid up, drove back to the ferry and crossed once more, in serene stillness, the calm waters of the Hawksbury river.
Driving back to our lodgings in the half darkness was quick and painless this time and while I couldn't see precisely where the outline of death was that I should park the car within, I trusted to the bathing the exterior had gotten to protect it from intrusion during the night. Entering the house I set about getting the TV/DVD situation sorted out while Mari took Josie for a shower and bedtime clothing change. I was pleased to discover that they had hooked up the foxtel with every channel available and settled back to watch some scifi channel before Mari emerged and tagged me in to handle the putting to bed of the little one while she went to organize the long-awaited spa-bath. Unexpectedly she lay still for her story reading and went to sleep straight after without the usual protracted attempts to refrain from doing so.
I emerged from the sleeping section and settled onto the couch next to a very grumpy looking Mari.
"What's up? We going to have a bath?"
"NO! @#$% waters brown!"
"Oh FFS!"
"Yup"
Shaking my head I asked her what she wanted to watch and started flicking channels while she wrapped up her magazine reading. While not actually stopping her magazine reading she proceeded to criticize every selection I made of the tv programs on offer and threaten to not stay up with me (and read her magazine) if I did not put on a DVD (that she had not had any input into the selection thereof and would undoubtedly not approve of). In the end I took the magazine away from her and tossed it accross the room at which point she agreed to properly contribute to the evenings entertainment choices. Now here's a perfect example of the differing (and unexpectedly so) natures of myself and my lovely wife. I suggested 50 First Dates as it is one of our favourite movies and a romantic, soppy one with a tear-jerking ending to boot and I thought it a perfect choice for our 10th Anniversary night movie. Mari chose Constantine, "cos I haven't seen it for ages" and wasn't moved in the least by my suggestions along the lines of the above in favour of 50 First Dates.
So, Constantine it was. Unfortunately 15minutes in Mari threw her magazine (she had retrieved it while I was up putting the DVD in the machine) down on the coffee table and stated "I'm sorry Tony, I'm just knackered. I've got to go to bed." I followed her in, tucked her into bed and went back out to the living room with an admonishment not to stay up too late. I returned to the living room, opted not to continue watching Constantine in a dark, creaky house in the middle of the pitch-black woods and instead began flicking channels on the foxtel, discovering in the process that the movie channels were not hooked up to the retreats tab and nor were the "adult channels". I watched a couple of scifi channel shows, an NBA game and the last 45minutes of a movie on the free movie channel I can't for the life of me recall before stumbling across an interesting-looking movie on SBS about a woman stranded in the desert of North-Eastern Africa when her husband dies after dragging her, her mother and her daughter out there for some stupid reason. It's called House of Sand and an intriguing mechanism they employed was that at 2 or 3 points in the narrative a significant amount of time elapses (10years, 20years) and the actresses playing the mother and the protagonist shift down one place (so the actress originally playing the protagonist is now playing her daughter - now grown to womanhood herself - and the actress originally playing her mother is now playing the part of the protagonist). I liked the movie very much. It was very well acted and shot and very sad and poignant. I have a masochistic tendency which draws me to the bitter-sweet stories of love won but lost or of the endurance of the harsh struggle through the vagaries of circumstance leaving only the few short twilight years to share what should have been a lifetimes companionship. Happiness sometimes overshadowed, sometimes sharpened by regret.
Finally at 2am I retired to my throne with The Deathly Hallows before heading wearily to bed. On the way I stopped in to check on Josie (as I had done about 6 times already) and what do you know but theres a bloody spider on the curtain in her room. Luckily far away from her bed and also luckily not a big, hairy one. It's a large, thin-legged, thin-bodied one kind of like the arachnid equivalent of a stick-insect. I retrieve Josie from her bed and deposit her in with her mother before doing a tour of the house to check the doors and windows before bed. Checks complete I retire to bed and fall asleep remarkably quickly despite the spider in the other room. Only the big, hairy ones bother me especially.
Episode 6: River Cruise To Nowhere (The Journey Home)
Next morning we rose (well they rose and I slept in), packed and leaving the baggage in the living room headed out for a final outing to see if we could track down the river cruises advertised on a large banner attached to the mountain wall along the road into town. After driving up and down the main street a few times we spotted an information sign outside a building featuring various offices and a nick-knack shop. We turned into the driveway and proceeded to the back parking lot where we saw another information sign nailed to the wall outside a restaurant tucked away at the back of the block. Mari went in to find out if they knew where the cruises left from and came back out and said that they said information was to be gotten from the nick-knack shop out the front. Why they had an information sign on their wall was a mystery at this point.
We pulled back out of the driveway and parked on the street outside the shop. Mari headed in and came back out saying that the cruise was leaving right now but that the guy in the shop was calling the captain to see if they had left yet as they often didn't leave for 10mins after the official time to wait for stragglers and that I should go in and pay as she had left her wallet back at the house. I went in and after 5mins of waiting for the phone to ring the guy decided we'd better just go down to the dock and tell them Brian said we could pay after the cruise. If we were to make it in time that is. We headed on down to the dock but could not spot a cruise-sized boat and proceed on to the public ferry dock right next door to inquire of the staff there if the ferry had left. They pointed back toward the private dock and said "yeah there it goes now". We turned around to see a cruise-sized boat leaving the dock we had just departed. Looking at each other we decided that this was indeed a fitting way to end our disastrous anniversary weekend and headed back up the main road. As we neared the information offices I suggested we have lunch in the restaurant we had found out back and securing consent I turned in and parked once more out back.
Settling ourselves at a table out on the back veranda we were pleasantly surprised to find it two storeys off the ground and open to a beautiful view of the valley. The weather was the best it had been all weekend and the air was clean and fresh. We wiled away the late morning in pleasant conversation while the Spudlette played her DS or did some coloring in. I drew a pony for her. Mamma drew a mutant Yak for her (also meant to be a pony). Immediately upon being seated I noticed the cruise ship standing anchor in the river only about 50 meters up river of the dock it had left from and every now and then I would turn around and look out over the river and see that it had not moved an inch. Pointing this out to Mari we were suddenly glad that we had not taken the River Cruise To Nowhere and had instead landed here on this pleasant veranda overlooking the valley. When I think back on that weekend now the first memory that springs to my mind is not the disasters or the horrors or even the eventual meal at the Swiss place that was the origin of the choice of location. The first memory is of that morning/afternoon we spent on the veranda in the bright morning sunlight and cool mountain air overlooking the valley. It was our little family at its best. Sitting relaxed and well fed in lovely weather enjoying each other's company. I really couldn't ask for more than that at this stage of our lives. Maybe I will want something more adventurous when Josie tears my heart, beating from my chest and leaves home but for right now I just want to sit and relax in the company of my wife and child.
If this were a movie that would have been the perfect image to fade out on. But life is seldom as well directed as a movie and so it was that the weather turned and it began to rain sending us scurrying inside with the remains of our mains. Boom boom. But it was a pleasantly hard rain that brought with it a nice strong breeze that further cleared the air. Customers came and went, the place never more than half full, and we were content to remain and idly chat and play with Josie as time seemingly passed us by.
Finally we rose, paid our bill, returned to retrieve our stuff from the retreat and left Wisemans Ferry contented and happy in the end just to be together.
The End.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Anniversary the 10th: A Bisaster of Epic Proportions Pt4
Previously on National Lampoon's Hill Family Vacation:
Back after a short hiatus for sweeps week we rejoin our intrepid family of adventurers as they arrive back home after a considerably shorter drive than the one which got them to their destination the night before. What could POSSIBLY happen next folks?! Read on and we shall find out as we roll right on into...
Episode 4: The Drive Up... Again (A Chance For Redemption)
Having finally worked out the proper directions through trials and tribulations previously described, the drive back home was far shorter at 1hour 30minutes than the four plus hours of the previous night. There was a hairy moment there when we passed, once more, through Hornsby and I felt my sanity retain its grip on the cliff-edge of my mind by a fingernail at best, but otherwise the journey home was uneventful.
With P!nk rocking my world through one earbud (so as not to wake the kiddies - both young and old - in the car with me) I navigated our way through countryside to outer suburbs, on Sydney's major tollways, harbour tunnels and finally the local roads of the area I was born and raised in and only recently returned to. After a decade in the Lower North Shore and only a year back in the Eastern Suburbs, this night was the first on which I felt... comforted... upon returning. The first time it felt like coming home.
Dragging ourselves from the car we carried the munchkin (leaving the luggage in the car for the trip back on the morrow) into the house and after depositing her into her bed, collapsed into our own bed and sank swiftly into the deepest of sleeps. It was 4:30am.
The next morning my wonderful wife took the early morning duties of parenthood and left me to continue the slumber of the braindead. At 10:30am she sent the little treasure in to rouse me to action once more. After a quick shower we were out the door again and ready for round two of our battle with fate and the vagueries of circumstance.
First stop on the schedule was Coles from whence I set out alone on my quest to acquire new weapons with which to arm myself for the coming continuation of our struggle. These took the form of professional grade outdoor surface spray spider and insect killer, latext gloves & Aeroguard spray. My new weapons secured I returned to my beloved family and we set out once more on our epic journey. A new day. A new set of follies to follow no doubt.
Once again the drive proved simple and short now that I was acquainted with the proper route (though I did have an irrational urge to close my eyes to protect my fragile psyche whilst we drove once AGAIN through Hornsby) and once again I travelled alone with only P!nk to keep me company as my girls had once more fallen asleep very shortly into the journey.
The countryside slipped quietly by, the mountain descent and subsequent ascent on the other side of the valley were now picturesque in the daylight where the night prior they had been nightmare scenes of encroaching darkness and the unknown.
Arriving back in Wisemans Ferry we, this time, proceeded directly to our lodgings although upon reaching the first entrance, on a hunch - or perhaps a finely tuned sense of the irony with which I am routinely slapped as I go about my business, I decided to go in and take a look around in the day time to see what opportunities this part of the retreat offered that the night had hidden from us when last we were here.
And oh but what view didst meet mine eyes!
A gravel carpark devoid of trees and only thick grasses at the back of each spot which while surely harboring some crawling things, even some of the lesser Abominations, would undoubtedly be clear of the brutes which so filled my nights with visions of terror. A car park 100 yards down the road from the scene of my unmanning of the previous night. I grimaced and shook my fist at the surrounding woodlands, wishing that I was head of a large, multi-national logging venture, poised, ready to lay waste the refuge of The Hated Ones.
Turning the car around I returned to the road and proceeded to the scene of the crime. In the warm light of a magnificent country valley day... it didn't look any better a prospect than it had the night before. And now I could see all the webs enclosing the grounds like some arachnid-enchantresses shield cast over the house. However, determined to make the most of the daylight and the sense of possibility and hope it offered, I concentrated on maintaining a positive outlook and set about identifying problems and diving solutions to them.
I saw now in the light that the drive path leading off the the left which we had, the night before, assumed lead to another property did in fact simply stop at another parking spot the same distance from the main driveway as the one right in front of the house. Whereas the night before we had believed we must park the car in the spot right in front of the house and under the Abomination infested tree, I now determined that I could park the car on the main entranceway to the two spots, steeply inclined though it was. I pointed the car nose down and toward the road, stumbled out of the car, nearly fell down the incline and onto the roadway, recovered and set about retrieving the child and the luggage and delivering them both up to the house.
Traversing the grounds leading up to the house was like walking through an obstacle course of terror but the house itself was fantastic. Alot of light, high ceilings, open plan living, dining & kitchen. Spa bath! Fabulous! And now, armed as I was I could set about setting up my defences for the coming night.
But before I could even go back for a second load of luggage, the cruel hand of fate once more intruded itself upon us. And in the cruelest way yet.
Mari came out of the hallway leading to the back rooms, ashen-faced, walking with the stunned gait of one caught in a waking nightmare. I feared the worst; a daylight incursion by one of the sun-hardenned bretheren of the Abominations.
But before I could cast about for my weaponry she spoke the words that will haunt me to the end of days: "The water is brown! Coming out of the taps. We can't use the spa bath!!!!".
This last came out in a wail so haunting and terrible it caused the hairs on the back of my neck to not only rise but shrivel and turn to ashes - thin little hair ashes - upon my back. Regardless of the activities and entertainment offered by any destination we may offer our patronage, the most important thing is the spa bath.
For Mari is so enamored of them.
A planned trip to the Gold Coast later in the year, driving for two days, staying in a beach side apartment on the 29th floor is really just an elaborate way of giving Mari something nice to look at while she sits in a spa bath.
And now that which had enabled my dear wife to endure the hardships our combined incompetence and my unmanliness had inflicted upon us in the past 16 hours had been most cruelly snatched away from us in the moment of our perceived triumph over adversity. And Josie too had been keen to go for a swim in the huge but now useless bathtub.
Oh woe were we.
Ever the quintessential pitbull (actually I think of her more as a tenacious terrier), Mari sprung into action and rang the lovely people who had stayed up so late to provide directions and guide us to their, albeit spider-infested, door, to demand a refund so we could move to the motor inn which would undoubtedly have reliable plumbing (and which, we had found online before we left, also had spa baths). It turned out to be lucky that I had not yet gotten any way into retrieving the luggage as I was informed upon the conclusion of the conversation that we were moving not to the motor inn (how I had yearned for it in the brief moments of hope just past) but to another of the houses offered by the retreat. At least this one was right next to the carpark that would offer even better protection from incursion for the car than its present precarious perch astride the steep incline of the drive.
Tune in next time when we move over to the other house ("Enchantment"), get settled in, discover some dark and disturbing hints about the inhabitants of WF and set out in search of the Swiss restaurant that was the reason I chose Wisemans Ferry in the first place. Don't miss:
Episode 5: Reasonable Precautions (plus Tea-time for Hitler)
Back after a short hiatus for sweeps week we rejoin our intrepid family of adventurers as they arrive back home after a considerably shorter drive than the one which got them to their destination the night before. What could POSSIBLY happen next folks?! Read on and we shall find out as we roll right on into...
Episode 4: The Drive Up... Again (A Chance For Redemption)
Having finally worked out the proper directions through trials and tribulations previously described, the drive back home was far shorter at 1hour 30minutes than the four plus hours of the previous night. There was a hairy moment there when we passed, once more, through Hornsby and I felt my sanity retain its grip on the cliff-edge of my mind by a fingernail at best, but otherwise the journey home was uneventful.
With P!nk rocking my world through one earbud (so as not to wake the kiddies - both young and old - in the car with me) I navigated our way through countryside to outer suburbs, on Sydney's major tollways, harbour tunnels and finally the local roads of the area I was born and raised in and only recently returned to. After a decade in the Lower North Shore and only a year back in the Eastern Suburbs, this night was the first on which I felt... comforted... upon returning. The first time it felt like coming home.
Dragging ourselves from the car we carried the munchkin (leaving the luggage in the car for the trip back on the morrow) into the house and after depositing her into her bed, collapsed into our own bed and sank swiftly into the deepest of sleeps. It was 4:30am.
The next morning my wonderful wife took the early morning duties of parenthood and left me to continue the slumber of the braindead. At 10:30am she sent the little treasure in to rouse me to action once more. After a quick shower we were out the door again and ready for round two of our battle with fate and the vagueries of circumstance.
First stop on the schedule was Coles from whence I set out alone on my quest to acquire new weapons with which to arm myself for the coming continuation of our struggle. These took the form of professional grade outdoor surface spray spider and insect killer, latext gloves & Aeroguard spray. My new weapons secured I returned to my beloved family and we set out once more on our epic journey. A new day. A new set of follies to follow no doubt.
Once again the drive proved simple and short now that I was acquainted with the proper route (though I did have an irrational urge to close my eyes to protect my fragile psyche whilst we drove once AGAIN through Hornsby) and once again I travelled alone with only P!nk to keep me company as my girls had once more fallen asleep very shortly into the journey.
The countryside slipped quietly by, the mountain descent and subsequent ascent on the other side of the valley were now picturesque in the daylight where the night prior they had been nightmare scenes of encroaching darkness and the unknown.
Arriving back in Wisemans Ferry we, this time, proceeded directly to our lodgings although upon reaching the first entrance, on a hunch - or perhaps a finely tuned sense of the irony with which I am routinely slapped as I go about my business, I decided to go in and take a look around in the day time to see what opportunities this part of the retreat offered that the night had hidden from us when last we were here.
And oh but what view didst meet mine eyes!
A gravel carpark devoid of trees and only thick grasses at the back of each spot which while surely harboring some crawling things, even some of the lesser Abominations, would undoubtedly be clear of the brutes which so filled my nights with visions of terror. A car park 100 yards down the road from the scene of my unmanning of the previous night. I grimaced and shook my fist at the surrounding woodlands, wishing that I was head of a large, multi-national logging venture, poised, ready to lay waste the refuge of The Hated Ones.
Turning the car around I returned to the road and proceeded to the scene of the crime. In the warm light of a magnificent country valley day... it didn't look any better a prospect than it had the night before. And now I could see all the webs enclosing the grounds like some arachnid-enchantresses shield cast over the house. However, determined to make the most of the daylight and the sense of possibility and hope it offered, I concentrated on maintaining a positive outlook and set about identifying problems and diving solutions to them.
I saw now in the light that the drive path leading off the the left which we had, the night before, assumed lead to another property did in fact simply stop at another parking spot the same distance from the main driveway as the one right in front of the house. Whereas the night before we had believed we must park the car in the spot right in front of the house and under the Abomination infested tree, I now determined that I could park the car on the main entranceway to the two spots, steeply inclined though it was. I pointed the car nose down and toward the road, stumbled out of the car, nearly fell down the incline and onto the roadway, recovered and set about retrieving the child and the luggage and delivering them both up to the house.
Traversing the grounds leading up to the house was like walking through an obstacle course of terror but the house itself was fantastic. Alot of light, high ceilings, open plan living, dining & kitchen. Spa bath! Fabulous! And now, armed as I was I could set about setting up my defences for the coming night.
But before I could even go back for a second load of luggage, the cruel hand of fate once more intruded itself upon us. And in the cruelest way yet.
Mari came out of the hallway leading to the back rooms, ashen-faced, walking with the stunned gait of one caught in a waking nightmare. I feared the worst; a daylight incursion by one of the sun-hardenned bretheren of the Abominations.
But before I could cast about for my weaponry she spoke the words that will haunt me to the end of days: "The water is brown! Coming out of the taps. We can't use the spa bath!!!!".
This last came out in a wail so haunting and terrible it caused the hairs on the back of my neck to not only rise but shrivel and turn to ashes - thin little hair ashes - upon my back. Regardless of the activities and entertainment offered by any destination we may offer our patronage, the most important thing is the spa bath.
For Mari is so enamored of them.
A planned trip to the Gold Coast later in the year, driving for two days, staying in a beach side apartment on the 29th floor is really just an elaborate way of giving Mari something nice to look at while she sits in a spa bath.
And now that which had enabled my dear wife to endure the hardships our combined incompetence and my unmanliness had inflicted upon us in the past 16 hours had been most cruelly snatched away from us in the moment of our perceived triumph over adversity. And Josie too had been keen to go for a swim in the huge but now useless bathtub.
Oh woe were we.
Ever the quintessential pitbull (actually I think of her more as a tenacious terrier), Mari sprung into action and rang the lovely people who had stayed up so late to provide directions and guide us to their, albeit spider-infested, door, to demand a refund so we could move to the motor inn which would undoubtedly have reliable plumbing (and which, we had found online before we left, also had spa baths). It turned out to be lucky that I had not yet gotten any way into retrieving the luggage as I was informed upon the conclusion of the conversation that we were moving not to the motor inn (how I had yearned for it in the brief moments of hope just past) but to another of the houses offered by the retreat. At least this one was right next to the carpark that would offer even better protection from incursion for the car than its present precarious perch astride the steep incline of the drive.
Tune in next time when we move over to the other house ("Enchantment"), get settled in, discover some dark and disturbing hints about the inhabitants of WF and set out in search of the Swiss restaurant that was the reason I chose Wisemans Ferry in the first place. Don't miss:
Episode 5: Reasonable Precautions (plus Tea-time for Hitler)
Friday, March 07, 2008
Call for comments
Hey ppl,
I'd just like to encourage our readers to add their comments to the blog regularly.
We started the blog as a way of communicating with our friends that we began to see less and less often as our lives took us in different directions and work and parenting took up more of our time. Hearing from you in response to our posts brings us great joy and makes the distance between us (for some literal distance) seem less. Best of all would be if we could get some conversations going within our comments.
Cheers guys,
AnTony
I'd just like to encourage our readers to add their comments to the blog regularly.
We started the blog as a way of communicating with our friends that we began to see less and less often as our lives took us in different directions and work and parenting took up more of our time. Hearing from you in response to our posts brings us great joy and makes the distance between us (for some literal distance) seem less. Best of all would be if we could get some conversations going within our comments.
Cheers guys,
AnTony
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Anniversary the 10th: A Bisaster of Epic Proportions Pt3
Previously on National Lampoon's Hill Family Vacation : We roared with mirth as the Hill family failed to properly use a GPS resulting in a groundhog-day-like recurrence of visits to Hornsby and then rode through the night with them along the dark and lonely, endless-road; our souls shrinking back from the precipice of the void into which they passed. Finally, turning back from the edge of utter oblivion which surely would have engulfed them had they continued along that dark path, they returned once more to the light of civilization and located the haven cruel fate and even the celestial powers had sought to deny them.
We go to a dark place tonight folks. A place where a man's soul is rent asunder and hard questions with no answers which haunt the mind for years to come are raised. Tonight we explore a harrowing world of fear, brutal armed combat and a frantic flight to safety. So put the kids to bed, strap on the waterproof underwear and sit back for:
Episode 3: Battle! Hell Unleashed (And A Hasty Retreat)
Having finally arrived at our long sought destination we drove in through the main gate and found that the house (of which there are 3 in the complex) we were assigned was not in-fact located there but was down the road to the next driveway. Turning around, we were unable to see much in the darkness other than that the houses looked a little on the worn side. The driveway disappeared rapidly into the dark in the general direction of the "exit only" sign by the road-side. If only there had been lighting along that drive, the night would have turned out much different and this accounting might well have stopped here, but for the briefest of sketches outlining the mundane activities that one embarks upon on a holiday in the country where there really is nothing substantial to do. But alas it was not to be. The night harbored twists and turns yet unthought of and, some will say before this tale ends, unthinkable.
We proceeded down the road a double-handful of meters and beheld with horror (at least on my part) a well made, nice looking, timber house on stilts perched on the side of, and nestled right into, the side of a steep and densely wooded hillside. Webs connected every gap between the trees and bushes. Not the intricately patterned webs of the smaller, common garden spider, oh no. These were the thick, steel-cable web lines of the predator who doesn't sit waiting for insects to fly into their nets, flung wide, but travels from place to place within it's hunting range taking victims off the street by main force.
These were the work of my nemesis. The hated abomination called Huntsman.
The driveway rose swiftly on an incline of at least 45degrees and swung right to a flat area right outside the long, steep, bush encrusted stone stairway leading up to the houses own wooden staircase (and right to the foot of a large tree known to give shelter to the Abomination) which opened onto a veranda sporting a bbq, wood box, two large windows which would welcome ocean waves of gentle light into the living area beyond and finally a new-looking front door.
There was no way in the 5 hells that I was getting out of this weekend without one of the horrors stowing away in the car with us if I parked there for any length of time. I would have to find an alternative. I tried frantically to calculate the walking distance to the motor inn we had stopped at in ages past. Could I conceivably unpack the car, drive back and park there and then walk back to the house at 2am without being attacked by some rabid wild animal or yobbo? I knew there was fishing here, indeed we had seen a couple of blokes on their way back from such an outing when we had first set tire upon The Lonely Road, so perhaps I would not be quite so alone out on The Road even at such a late hour. It was my only even vaguely achievable option at this point so I stowed it in the probably filing folder in my mind and got on with the task at hand: maneuver the car into a position as far from the hated tree(s) and bushes as possible without it tumbling off the edge of the hillside and killing us all, and get the wife, child and luggage (anyone who knows us well will know the likely extent of our luggage for a two night holiday) into the house and in the child's case, back to sleep (she having awoken while we were in the void out on The Road).
This brings up a side note actually, which both myself and Mari noticed in the previous episodes. There has been virtually no mention of Josephine so far. The reason for this is that this was the first trip we have taken (having driven previously to Canberra, Wollongong, The Gold Coast & Dubbo) that Josie has simply played with her DSLite, eaten her food and gone to sleep with barely any attention spared for us. Even though most of the action occurred after her normal bedtime, usually on these trips she fights falling asleep as long as she can (on the trip to Dubbo she became spooked by the darkness of the road and decided she wanted to go home so getting her to calm down enough to go to sleep took until 11pm!) and seeks to engage us in conversation. I must say I did not like this new turn of events. For the parents out there: it may be annoying at times but you will dearly miss the constant seeking of attention when it is suddenly reft away from you. And it happens without warning. Make the most of the time you have with your babies before it does.
Anyway, back to the action.
I parked the car and retrieving the child, carried her up and into the house, Mari having gone before to open the door and light the way. I put the child to bed as Mari wandered around investigating the place, and went down to get the first load of luggage from the car. Returning I deposited the load onto the coffee table in the living area and, hearing Josie's voice, went to investigate why she was not asleep. Finding Mari lying with the child calming her to sleep I headed back to the living area en route to the car for the next load of luggage.
I'm not sure what premonition made me look up toward the wall above the curtains over the front windows as I entered the room but it saved me from certain death at the hands of the Abomination that clung there upon the wall or possibly from choking upon my own tongue in a spasm of revulsion had it fallen upon me, as it surely would once I was within range of its evil ways.
Abhorrent!
Sickening!
Abomination!
It could not be borne, this incursion by the beast with eight legs and the soulless, malevolent, hundred-eyed gaze. A beast born surely of the very depths of hell itself! I cast about in the kitchen for a suitable weapon with which to arm myself for battle with such a foe. But this was obviously a dark place of unspeakable evil and cruelty. I saw now that the trials we had suffered were no accident of circumstance. This foul place was designed to drain hapless adventure seekers of their spirit via the clouded and shifting route and the endlessness of The Lonely Road, in order that they be weakened sufficiently to be overcome and devoured by the foul, loathsome beasts of the pits. In no other but such a place, surrounded as it was by bush and tree, surrounds infested with the Abominations, would I expect to find no insect spray!!! None to be found anywhere! And all the while the beast sat upon the wall and fixed his malevolent gaze upon me. I could feel the dark amusement at my futile efforts to find a suitable weapon emanating from the foul creature in waves that washed over me, hot and smelling of putrescence. It was breathing at me!
Finally, salvation!
I had found the laundry and inside, no doubt placed to trick the newly arrived into thinking the dwelling a place of simple domestic existence, was... a broom! Taking up my oft-favored weapon in the fight against the Abominations (many are the tales of battle, down through the long years which have found me beset by my ancient enemies. Too numerous to relate here, they must await another time of The Telling) I returned to the room in which the beast had chosen to face me and called Mari from the other room that she may be forewarned of the impending conflict and make ready to flee should I fall in the coming battle. Coming into the room she was horror struck, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle the scream which must have leapt to her throat upon catching site of the awesome, horrifying visage of the beast. Raising my weapon and shaking it meaningfully, our eyes locked and nodding she understood fully the implications of this night and the trials she might yet face, alone but for the child, if I were overcome in the bloody battle that was surely to follow.
I threw every ounce of feeling; of love and companionship, of appreciation of the time we had had and regret for the time we might lose, were I unable to defeat my ancient enemy, into a last look upon the face of my first true love and turned to meet my fate as Mari turned and fled the room to guard our precious child and make ready her escape if the worst should come to pass.
Raising my weapon into a ready position before me I advanced upon the beast. Coming within range even of my lengthy weapon was dangerous as the loathsome creatures are known to leap upon their prey from a great distance and so I was upon my guard and stayed light upon my feet, ready to dance aside at the first hint of movement in its vile limbs.
It twitched and I hurled myself backwards and to the left. Diving and rolling back toward the right I sought to confound it and forestall any attempts to get a bead on my position for a strike. Coming up again onto my feet I began a long, slow stalking right to left across its line of attack and just as I crossed the line I took my chance and struck with the bristled end of my lance.
Disaster!
My thrust had gone wide and the creature had skated behind the drapery with a speed and agility that I freely admit caused me to quail momentarily and contemplate flight. But the thought of my beloved wife and child waiting in the other room, depending on me to bring them through this hellish journey, safely snapped me back into action.
I harassed the beast with the broom head until it made it's first mistake of the contest and poked its head and several foul appendages out from behind the curtain (presumably to see if it could do anything offensive to make me back off my relentless attack upon its foul person).
This was the opening I had been waiting for however and I reacted instantly, sweeping the head of my weapon downwards to knock the abomination from its excellent defensive position high upon the wall and behind cover onto the floor where it would be at my booted mercy (though while disadvantaged to be sure, still not to be underestimated as these creatures have been known to race with lightning speed up the trouser leg and sink their stinking, rotted teeth into the manhood of those with which they do battle and even to strip a sizable chunk of boot-leather from the feet of their adversaries should the blow be not swift or powerful enough). Not wanting to come within testicular danger range I continued to press my attack with my bearded lance while holding the boot in reserve for just the right opportunity. I struck true several times but the beast was strong and the broom head bounced harmlessly off on all but the most powerful strokes I was able to muster.
Finally however the creature, tiring of the battle and fearing now for its life, where so short a time ago it had been sure of victory and an easy meal, made a break away from the skirting board and into open territory between the wall and the door (which I now saw had an enormous gap underneath it - no doubt placed there apurpose by the dark creators of this wicked place). Seeing my chance for victory I brought my weapon down upon the beast with all the strength within my mind, body and soul! The head broke from the end of my lance and clattered away but I saw that I had mortally wounded the beast and, abandoning the broken weapon, I moved in for the kill.
Bringing my ancient boots of the Blund Stone down again and again in crashing waves of destruction I smote my enemies ruin upon the floor of the house upon the mountain.
Finally, as the blood haze cleared from my vision I saw that the beast was indeed defeated, yea it was barely recognizable for the dark and malevolent entity that had sought battle with me so brazenly only mere minutes before.
The thrill of battle and victory ebbing away leaving me shaken, my limbs heavy and my mind disturbed by an encounter with such darkness I knew we could not stay in this place and hope to live out the night unmolested by further incursions. You see it was fear and loathing of mine ancient enemy that drove me to frenzied battle, not longing for such an encounter, or the honor and glory that comes with victory in such. I was badly shaken by this turn of events and while I could have tolerated the need to defend the borders of the dwelling from incursion by the filth with eight legs, I could not endure the thought of being, unexpectedly in such close quarters, with one of the foul creatures as we would undoubtedly be forced to be, should we leave the car in the vicinity.
Seeking out my family I informed Mari in shame that I could not stay here. We would have to leave and seek shelter at the motor inn. It was very late by this stage but it had been late when we had last been there and reception was manned then. There was hope that it was manned 24hours.
Knowing well my loathing of the Abominations, Mari accepted the need to retreat with the kindness, patience and understanding that can only be born of the deepest love and affection.
That love was put to the test however when we arrived at the Motor Inn to find that the reception desk was locked up for the night and a phone call which roused someone from their, no doubt spiderless, slumber confirmed that there was no one on duty at this time to see to our needs.
Not knowing what to do, we sat in the car park trying to think of a viable option. Mari knew what was on my mind but even her love could not bring her to sanction the action that was plainly written on my face: flight.
Though it had taken us so many hours to get here I knew, now that I knew the way, that I could get us back home in 1hour 40mins max. Probably faster at this time of night, devoid of traffic as it was. I had mentioned to Mari on the way up that if worst came to worst and the GPS didnt get its act together we could head home and try again in the morning with Google maps and etc at our disposal. Thusly did she know of my thoughts as we sat in the car in the car park of the safe but unattainable haven. The only alternative we could see was to either park the car and walk back to the house (which I was not keen to stay in until I could get my hands on some reasonable protective measures) or sleep in the car in the car park and then decide whether to cancel our booking at The Hell House and get a room at the motor inn. With a supreme act of compassion for me, Mari consented to return home and to come back on the morrow.
And so it was that the first stage of our adventure ended in defeat, after countless trials overcome and fought through, snatched from the jaws of victory. And my ego having taken a severe battering. I had bested my enemy but he had bested me all the same. My physical victory nothing compared to the mental and emotional pummeling he had inflicted upon me.
The drive back was uneventful, Josie fell asleep after 20mins and Mari 20seconds after that. I drove on in silence but for the voices in my head. A long and lonely journey through the darkness. My soul left blackened and beaten upon the field of battle.
Tune in next time for:
Episode 4: The Drive Up... Again (A Chance For Redemption)
We go to a dark place tonight folks. A place where a man's soul is rent asunder and hard questions with no answers which haunt the mind for years to come are raised. Tonight we explore a harrowing world of fear, brutal armed combat and a frantic flight to safety. So put the kids to bed, strap on the waterproof underwear and sit back for:
Episode 3: Battle! Hell Unleashed (And A Hasty Retreat)
Having finally arrived at our long sought destination we drove in through the main gate and found that the house (of which there are 3 in the complex) we were assigned was not in-fact located there but was down the road to the next driveway. Turning around, we were unable to see much in the darkness other than that the houses looked a little on the worn side. The driveway disappeared rapidly into the dark in the general direction of the "exit only" sign by the road-side. If only there had been lighting along that drive, the night would have turned out much different and this accounting might well have stopped here, but for the briefest of sketches outlining the mundane activities that one embarks upon on a holiday in the country where there really is nothing substantial to do. But alas it was not to be. The night harbored twists and turns yet unthought of and, some will say before this tale ends, unthinkable.
We proceeded down the road a double-handful of meters and beheld with horror (at least on my part) a well made, nice looking, timber house on stilts perched on the side of, and nestled right into, the side of a steep and densely wooded hillside. Webs connected every gap between the trees and bushes. Not the intricately patterned webs of the smaller, common garden spider, oh no. These were the thick, steel-cable web lines of the predator who doesn't sit waiting for insects to fly into their nets, flung wide, but travels from place to place within it's hunting range taking victims off the street by main force.
These were the work of my nemesis. The hated abomination called Huntsman.
The driveway rose swiftly on an incline of at least 45degrees and swung right to a flat area right outside the long, steep, bush encrusted stone stairway leading up to the houses own wooden staircase (and right to the foot of a large tree known to give shelter to the Abomination) which opened onto a veranda sporting a bbq, wood box, two large windows which would welcome ocean waves of gentle light into the living area beyond and finally a new-looking front door.
There was no way in the 5 hells that I was getting out of this weekend without one of the horrors stowing away in the car with us if I parked there for any length of time. I would have to find an alternative. I tried frantically to calculate the walking distance to the motor inn we had stopped at in ages past. Could I conceivably unpack the car, drive back and park there and then walk back to the house at 2am without being attacked by some rabid wild animal or yobbo? I knew there was fishing here, indeed we had seen a couple of blokes on their way back from such an outing when we had first set tire upon The Lonely Road, so perhaps I would not be quite so alone out on The Road even at such a late hour. It was my only even vaguely achievable option at this point so I stowed it in the probably filing folder in my mind and got on with the task at hand: maneuver the car into a position as far from the hated tree(s) and bushes as possible without it tumbling off the edge of the hillside and killing us all, and get the wife, child and luggage (anyone who knows us well will know the likely extent of our luggage for a two night holiday) into the house and in the child's case, back to sleep (she having awoken while we were in the void out on The Road).
This brings up a side note actually, which both myself and Mari noticed in the previous episodes. There has been virtually no mention of Josephine so far. The reason for this is that this was the first trip we have taken (having driven previously to Canberra, Wollongong, The Gold Coast & Dubbo) that Josie has simply played with her DSLite, eaten her food and gone to sleep with barely any attention spared for us. Even though most of the action occurred after her normal bedtime, usually on these trips she fights falling asleep as long as she can (on the trip to Dubbo she became spooked by the darkness of the road and decided she wanted to go home so getting her to calm down enough to go to sleep took until 11pm!) and seeks to engage us in conversation. I must say I did not like this new turn of events. For the parents out there: it may be annoying at times but you will dearly miss the constant seeking of attention when it is suddenly reft away from you. And it happens without warning. Make the most of the time you have with your babies before it does.
Anyway, back to the action.
I parked the car and retrieving the child, carried her up and into the house, Mari having gone before to open the door and light the way. I put the child to bed as Mari wandered around investigating the place, and went down to get the first load of luggage from the car. Returning I deposited the load onto the coffee table in the living area and, hearing Josie's voice, went to investigate why she was not asleep. Finding Mari lying with the child calming her to sleep I headed back to the living area en route to the car for the next load of luggage.
I'm not sure what premonition made me look up toward the wall above the curtains over the front windows as I entered the room but it saved me from certain death at the hands of the Abomination that clung there upon the wall or possibly from choking upon my own tongue in a spasm of revulsion had it fallen upon me, as it surely would once I was within range of its evil ways.
Abhorrent!
Sickening!
Abomination!
It could not be borne, this incursion by the beast with eight legs and the soulless, malevolent, hundred-eyed gaze. A beast born surely of the very depths of hell itself! I cast about in the kitchen for a suitable weapon with which to arm myself for battle with such a foe. But this was obviously a dark place of unspeakable evil and cruelty. I saw now that the trials we had suffered were no accident of circumstance. This foul place was designed to drain hapless adventure seekers of their spirit via the clouded and shifting route and the endlessness of The Lonely Road, in order that they be weakened sufficiently to be overcome and devoured by the foul, loathsome beasts of the pits. In no other but such a place, surrounded as it was by bush and tree, surrounds infested with the Abominations, would I expect to find no insect spray!!! None to be found anywhere! And all the while the beast sat upon the wall and fixed his malevolent gaze upon me. I could feel the dark amusement at my futile efforts to find a suitable weapon emanating from the foul creature in waves that washed over me, hot and smelling of putrescence. It was breathing at me!
Finally, salvation!
I had found the laundry and inside, no doubt placed to trick the newly arrived into thinking the dwelling a place of simple domestic existence, was... a broom! Taking up my oft-favored weapon in the fight against the Abominations (many are the tales of battle, down through the long years which have found me beset by my ancient enemies. Too numerous to relate here, they must await another time of The Telling) I returned to the room in which the beast had chosen to face me and called Mari from the other room that she may be forewarned of the impending conflict and make ready to flee should I fall in the coming battle. Coming into the room she was horror struck, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle the scream which must have leapt to her throat upon catching site of the awesome, horrifying visage of the beast. Raising my weapon and shaking it meaningfully, our eyes locked and nodding she understood fully the implications of this night and the trials she might yet face, alone but for the child, if I were overcome in the bloody battle that was surely to follow.
I threw every ounce of feeling; of love and companionship, of appreciation of the time we had had and regret for the time we might lose, were I unable to defeat my ancient enemy, into a last look upon the face of my first true love and turned to meet my fate as Mari turned and fled the room to guard our precious child and make ready her escape if the worst should come to pass.
Raising my weapon into a ready position before me I advanced upon the beast. Coming within range even of my lengthy weapon was dangerous as the loathsome creatures are known to leap upon their prey from a great distance and so I was upon my guard and stayed light upon my feet, ready to dance aside at the first hint of movement in its vile limbs.
It twitched and I hurled myself backwards and to the left. Diving and rolling back toward the right I sought to confound it and forestall any attempts to get a bead on my position for a strike. Coming up again onto my feet I began a long, slow stalking right to left across its line of attack and just as I crossed the line I took my chance and struck with the bristled end of my lance.
Disaster!
My thrust had gone wide and the creature had skated behind the drapery with a speed and agility that I freely admit caused me to quail momentarily and contemplate flight. But the thought of my beloved wife and child waiting in the other room, depending on me to bring them through this hellish journey, safely snapped me back into action.
I harassed the beast with the broom head until it made it's first mistake of the contest and poked its head and several foul appendages out from behind the curtain (presumably to see if it could do anything offensive to make me back off my relentless attack upon its foul person).
This was the opening I had been waiting for however and I reacted instantly, sweeping the head of my weapon downwards to knock the abomination from its excellent defensive position high upon the wall and behind cover onto the floor where it would be at my booted mercy (though while disadvantaged to be sure, still not to be underestimated as these creatures have been known to race with lightning speed up the trouser leg and sink their stinking, rotted teeth into the manhood of those with which they do battle and even to strip a sizable chunk of boot-leather from the feet of their adversaries should the blow be not swift or powerful enough). Not wanting to come within testicular danger range I continued to press my attack with my bearded lance while holding the boot in reserve for just the right opportunity. I struck true several times but the beast was strong and the broom head bounced harmlessly off on all but the most powerful strokes I was able to muster.
Finally however the creature, tiring of the battle and fearing now for its life, where so short a time ago it had been sure of victory and an easy meal, made a break away from the skirting board and into open territory between the wall and the door (which I now saw had an enormous gap underneath it - no doubt placed there apurpose by the dark creators of this wicked place). Seeing my chance for victory I brought my weapon down upon the beast with all the strength within my mind, body and soul! The head broke from the end of my lance and clattered away but I saw that I had mortally wounded the beast and, abandoning the broken weapon, I moved in for the kill.
Bringing my ancient boots of the Blund Stone down again and again in crashing waves of destruction I smote my enemies ruin upon the floor of the house upon the mountain.
Finally, as the blood haze cleared from my vision I saw that the beast was indeed defeated, yea it was barely recognizable for the dark and malevolent entity that had sought battle with me so brazenly only mere minutes before.
The thrill of battle and victory ebbing away leaving me shaken, my limbs heavy and my mind disturbed by an encounter with such darkness I knew we could not stay in this place and hope to live out the night unmolested by further incursions. You see it was fear and loathing of mine ancient enemy that drove me to frenzied battle, not longing for such an encounter, or the honor and glory that comes with victory in such. I was badly shaken by this turn of events and while I could have tolerated the need to defend the borders of the dwelling from incursion by the filth with eight legs, I could not endure the thought of being, unexpectedly in such close quarters, with one of the foul creatures as we would undoubtedly be forced to be, should we leave the car in the vicinity.
Seeking out my family I informed Mari in shame that I could not stay here. We would have to leave and seek shelter at the motor inn. It was very late by this stage but it had been late when we had last been there and reception was manned then. There was hope that it was manned 24hours.
Knowing well my loathing of the Abominations, Mari accepted the need to retreat with the kindness, patience and understanding that can only be born of the deepest love and affection.
That love was put to the test however when we arrived at the Motor Inn to find that the reception desk was locked up for the night and a phone call which roused someone from their, no doubt spiderless, slumber confirmed that there was no one on duty at this time to see to our needs.
Not knowing what to do, we sat in the car park trying to think of a viable option. Mari knew what was on my mind but even her love could not bring her to sanction the action that was plainly written on my face: flight.
Though it had taken us so many hours to get here I knew, now that I knew the way, that I could get us back home in 1hour 40mins max. Probably faster at this time of night, devoid of traffic as it was. I had mentioned to Mari on the way up that if worst came to worst and the GPS didnt get its act together we could head home and try again in the morning with Google maps and etc at our disposal. Thusly did she know of my thoughts as we sat in the car in the car park of the safe but unattainable haven. The only alternative we could see was to either park the car and walk back to the house (which I was not keen to stay in until I could get my hands on some reasonable protective measures) or sleep in the car in the car park and then decide whether to cancel our booking at The Hell House and get a room at the motor inn. With a supreme act of compassion for me, Mari consented to return home and to come back on the morrow.
And so it was that the first stage of our adventure ended in defeat, after countless trials overcome and fought through, snatched from the jaws of victory. And my ego having taken a severe battering. I had bested my enemy but he had bested me all the same. My physical victory nothing compared to the mental and emotional pummeling he had inflicted upon me.
The drive back was uneventful, Josie fell asleep after 20mins and Mari 20seconds after that. I drove on in silence but for the voices in my head. A long and lonely journey through the darkness. My soul left blackened and beaten upon the field of battle.
Tune in next time for:
Episode 4: The Drive Up... Again (A Chance For Redemption)
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Anniversary the 10th: A Bisaster of Epic Proportions Pt2
WARNING: Tonights episode of National Lampoon's Hill Family Vacation features strong language, themes of hopelessness and despair and a confronting look at the cruel hand that fate plays in all our lives. A hand that sometimes slaps.
Welcome back folks.
When last we left our intrepid family they had survived trials and tribulations to arrive finally in the vicinity of their destination and having secured clear and simple instructions on how to get to the actual location of their accommodations were ready to set out on what surely would be the final leg of their journey. Let's rejoin our heroes now as they once more set forth in search of shelter.
Episode 2: The Road Goes Ever On... And On...
Just to quickly refresh your memories the instructions were:
"Turn right out of the driveway here *points to driveway*, go to the top of the road where the pub ends and turn left onto Singleton Rd. It's about 3kms down Singleton."
And so it was with a last longing look back at the well manicured grounds of the motor inn and their silent promise of a complete lack of spider incursion that I turned the car towards the heavily wooded (and with out any shred of doubt in my mind, lacking in even a scrap of hope for getting through the weekend without at least one - likely multiple - horrifying spider encounters) Singleton Rd and started to become seriously concerned that I had made a grave error in my choice of venue.
But I didn't have time for worrying about that right now, I had to find this God-forsaken road and travel its length in search of our final destination. Quickly, if I didn't want my wife to make it more final than I would like. When Mari becomes tired, she either becomes extremely cranky (well actually, Hitler was cranky, Mari is more like what Cate Blanchett would have turned into in Lord Of The Rings if she had taken up the One Ring) or completely loopy and hysterical (in a good way). Fortunately God smiled on me this night and she became the latter. For what transpired next was definitely a 'laugh or throttle your husband' type of thing.
We got onto Singleton Rd and I reset the trip meter once more so that we would know when we were approaching the distance at which we were assured our target was located. About 1km along the road the moon broke gloriously from behind a mountain on the far side of the Hawksbury River and I gazed at it in awe. Pointing it out to Mari, she cried "Stop the car, stop the car! I will take a picture!". I slowed down and found a spot to pull off to the side of the narrow road and she took several pictures in which the moon was completely indistinguishable from a tiny spot of lint.
Realizing the futility of trying to take a picture of the moon without an SLR, tripod, time for a long exposure etc we gazed upon it in rapture for a half a minute, sighed at the tranquility of the moment in the middle of the whirlwind adventure we had thus far suffered, and I pulled the car back onto the road to continue our quest for shelter.
As I drove off I spied a sign just ahead and to the right of the car next to a driveway curving back from the road and away into the darkness, it read "Exit Only". I thought to myself "Wow, someone must have a big house if they have incoming and outgoing driveways!" and continued on down the road looking left and right for our destination.
3kms came and 3kms went and the Forgotten Valley Retreat did neither as far as we could see. But no matter, it was after all, only a rough estimate. Press on!
And so we did.
We pressed on... and on... and on some more.
And long after, it was apparent that we must have missed it. But it was too late by then as we had both succumbed to that addictive psychosis of "Just one more bend. Just one more set of driveways. Maybe this one will be it." We passed a "No through road" sign and though "ahh the road will end and we will be free from this torture to turn around and start looking backwards!".
But the road went ever onward.
The sign lied.
We wondered if it stretched all the way back to Sydney. Surely we would at least make it back to Hornsby soon... again. We fantasized that it was in fact the night before out trip and we were asleep, dreaming or rather having a nightmare about the coming weekend.
Suddenly, up ahead! Is that an urban looking wall?! It is! It MUST be the Forgotten Vall... no it's not. It's just some city folks who moved to the country and said "bugger this crappy wooden, falling down fencing thing. We're building a wall baby! With shiny new red bricks!!!". I bet they cleared the damned spider infested trees from around the property too! *8'(
At the 12km mark I tore myself free from the grasp of the need to see just beyond the river bend, stopped the car and got Mari to ring the proprietors once more (at 1am). Turns out they're 500m from the start of Singleton Rd.
So after an extended bout of apoplexy I turned the car around and headed back the way we had come, lo those many years ago. After what seemed like a second eternity but was merely another 20 minutes in reality (small road, not very even, not doing top speed, you understand) we approached the spot about 500 meters from the start of Singleton Rd (according to the car's trip meter) and upon finding the landscape thereabouts hauntingly familiar, a thought most terrible entered my brain and nested there like... you guessed it... a big... fat... hairy... EVIL!!!... spider. And began to chitter at me.
Slowing to a crawl I saw, to my left now, the "Exit Only" sign. The very same sign I had wondered on eons before. Passing it I now saw, just beyond, the back of a much larger sign... and my eye began to twitch. Passing it I stopped, put on my reverse lights, steeled myself and looked in the rear view mirror.
Horror.
HORRORRRR!!!!
"Forgotten Valley Retreat" read the ENORMOUS sign.
Turning my head and looking back over my other shoulder, away from the sign, I silently cursed the moon that had so long ago given with one hand, only that it may kick me in the bollocks with the other foot. A blow I would not feel for many leagues to come.
You see, the appearance of her majesty from behind the mountain (sooooo long ago) had caused me to turn my head to the left JUST at the right moment to completely miss the fucking sign I needed to see, to not drive 12 fucking kms down the God-damned road to nowhere!!!! Oh yes! Round one to you you celestial bitch! But just you wait until we get our moon program back on track! We're gonna mine the crap out of you.
Gonna cut you DEEP baby! Oh yes!
Well that's it for this episode folks. Tune in next time for :
Episode 3: Battle! Hell Unleashed (And A Hasty Retreat)
Welcome back folks.
When last we left our intrepid family they had survived trials and tribulations to arrive finally in the vicinity of their destination and having secured clear and simple instructions on how to get to the actual location of their accommodations were ready to set out on what surely would be the final leg of their journey. Let's rejoin our heroes now as they once more set forth in search of shelter.
Episode 2: The Road Goes Ever On... And On...
Just to quickly refresh your memories the instructions were:
"Turn right out of the driveway here *points to driveway*, go to the top of the road where the pub ends and turn left onto Singleton Rd. It's about 3kms down Singleton."
And so it was with a last longing look back at the well manicured grounds of the motor inn and their silent promise of a complete lack of spider incursion that I turned the car towards the heavily wooded (and with out any shred of doubt in my mind, lacking in even a scrap of hope for getting through the weekend without at least one - likely multiple - horrifying spider encounters) Singleton Rd and started to become seriously concerned that I had made a grave error in my choice of venue.
But I didn't have time for worrying about that right now, I had to find this God-forsaken road and travel its length in search of our final destination. Quickly, if I didn't want my wife to make it more final than I would like. When Mari becomes tired, she either becomes extremely cranky (well actually, Hitler was cranky, Mari is more like what Cate Blanchett would have turned into in Lord Of The Rings if she had taken up the One Ring) or completely loopy and hysterical (in a good way). Fortunately God smiled on me this night and she became the latter. For what transpired next was definitely a 'laugh or throttle your husband' type of thing.
We got onto Singleton Rd and I reset the trip meter once more so that we would know when we were approaching the distance at which we were assured our target was located. About 1km along the road the moon broke gloriously from behind a mountain on the far side of the Hawksbury River and I gazed at it in awe. Pointing it out to Mari, she cried "Stop the car, stop the car! I will take a picture!". I slowed down and found a spot to pull off to the side of the narrow road and she took several pictures in which the moon was completely indistinguishable from a tiny spot of lint.
Realizing the futility of trying to take a picture of the moon without an SLR, tripod, time for a long exposure etc we gazed upon it in rapture for a half a minute, sighed at the tranquility of the moment in the middle of the whirlwind adventure we had thus far suffered, and I pulled the car back onto the road to continue our quest for shelter.
As I drove off I spied a sign just ahead and to the right of the car next to a driveway curving back from the road and away into the darkness, it read "Exit Only". I thought to myself "Wow, someone must have a big house if they have incoming and outgoing driveways!" and continued on down the road looking left and right for our destination.
3kms came and 3kms went and the Forgotten Valley Retreat did neither as far as we could see. But no matter, it was after all, only a rough estimate. Press on!
And so we did.
We pressed on... and on... and on some more.
And long after, it was apparent that we must have missed it. But it was too late by then as we had both succumbed to that addictive psychosis of "Just one more bend. Just one more set of driveways. Maybe this one will be it." We passed a "No through road" sign and though "ahh the road will end and we will be free from this torture to turn around and start looking backwards!".
But the road went ever onward.
The sign lied.
We wondered if it stretched all the way back to Sydney. Surely we would at least make it back to Hornsby soon... again. We fantasized that it was in fact the night before out trip and we were asleep, dreaming or rather having a nightmare about the coming weekend.
Suddenly, up ahead! Is that an urban looking wall?! It is! It MUST be the Forgotten Vall... no it's not. It's just some city folks who moved to the country and said "bugger this crappy wooden, falling down fencing thing. We're building a wall baby! With shiny new red bricks!!!". I bet they cleared the damned spider infested trees from around the property too! *8'(
At the 12km mark I tore myself free from the grasp of the need to see just beyond the river bend, stopped the car and got Mari to ring the proprietors once more (at 1am). Turns out they're 500m from the start of Singleton Rd.
So after an extended bout of apoplexy I turned the car around and headed back the way we had come, lo those many years ago. After what seemed like a second eternity but was merely another 20 minutes in reality (small road, not very even, not doing top speed, you understand) we approached the spot about 500 meters from the start of Singleton Rd (according to the car's trip meter) and upon finding the landscape thereabouts hauntingly familiar, a thought most terrible entered my brain and nested there like... you guessed it... a big... fat... hairy... EVIL!!!... spider. And began to chitter at me.
Slowing to a crawl I saw, to my left now, the "Exit Only" sign. The very same sign I had wondered on eons before. Passing it I now saw, just beyond, the back of a much larger sign... and my eye began to twitch. Passing it I stopped, put on my reverse lights, steeled myself and looked in the rear view mirror.
Horror.
HORRORRRR!!!!
"Forgotten Valley Retreat" read the ENORMOUS sign.
Turning my head and looking back over my other shoulder, away from the sign, I silently cursed the moon that had so long ago given with one hand, only that it may kick me in the bollocks with the other foot. A blow I would not feel for many leagues to come.
You see, the appearance of her majesty from behind the mountain (sooooo long ago) had caused me to turn my head to the left JUST at the right moment to completely miss the fucking sign I needed to see, to not drive 12 fucking kms down the God-damned road to nowhere!!!! Oh yes! Round one to you you celestial bitch! But just you wait until we get our moon program back on track! We're gonna mine the crap out of you.
Gonna cut you DEEP baby! Oh yes!
Well that's it for this episode folks. Tune in next time for :
Episode 3: Battle! Hell Unleashed (And A Hasty Retreat)
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Anniversary the 10th: A Bisaster of Epic Proportions
A.k.a National Lampoon's Hill Family Vacation
Destination: Forgotten Valley Retreat, Wisemans Ferry, NSW
Expected Journey Time: 1hour 45minutes
Actual Journey Time: 6hours
That's 4 hours to get to Wisemans Ferry and 2 hours to find the retreat in an area roughly twice the length and width of Eastgardens Shopping Centre. Let's find out how we managed that shall we?
Sit back and strap yourselves in folks; it's going to be a long and bumpy ride. Catheters are recommended.
Episode 1: The Drive Up
We begin our tale of tragedy and triumph, of victory and bisaster, at 8pm this past friday night when we finally got underway and hit the road on our 10th Wedding anniversary family weekend vacation. After dropping Becka home, detouring via Mari's parents place to pick up some russian snacks (containers full of chicken schnitzels and rissoles) and then to Uncle David's to pick up the GPS (which I have come to know as That Bloody Stupid Female Canine for reasons that will become apparent as we go on) we were an hour into the journey and not yet out of Sydney. It was a sign of things to come.
Having been to the area we were heading to (Wisemans Ferry) before Unc offered to setup the GPS (@#$%#^!) with the destination and evaluate the route it proposed. This is where we hit our first obstacle; the road on the accommodation confirmation was not in the GPS. However after about 10mins perseverance Unc got it sorted enough so that it would "get me to Wisemans Ferry and from there it's good luck mate"; good enough for now, thanks Unc!
At this point since Mari had wanted me to get home from work earlier and to get going at least an hour earlier than we had done she was in no mood for any further delays or other developments not unknown to crop up on one of my operations; at this point Mari had no idea where we were going as it was meant to be a surprise. Given this need for secrecy Mari's traditional job as navigator was a bit restricted as she was not allowed to look too far ahead. This didn't last too long however, as you'll soon see, and given the way the night developed I'm glad she got not quite fair but at least some warning.
It started out fine however, the GPS directed us to get onto the Pacific Hwy and (according to Mari) remain on it for 67kms. Given that the GPS had only charged for 30mins (the Schotts got late notice we wanted to borrow it) we figured we should conserve the batteries even though it was supposed to be such a short drive. To that end once the nice lady (having not yet shown her true colors) advised us to stick to the same road for so long we switched her off and zero'd the trip meter on the car. Traffic was light for a friday night and the drive up Pacific Hwy was uneventful until we got to Hornsby and I missed my first turn-off where Pacific Hwy has an identity crisis and decides to turn onto a completely different road while the one you're on reverts to whatever it was before it was possessed by Hwy Numero Uno. It does this with alarming regularity. Alarming if you've switched off your GPS in the naive belief that staying on the same road actually entails staying on the same (physical) road. After a complicated set of right hand turns necessitated by my refusal to do an illegal u-turn and a semi-legal 3-point turn necessitated by bloody stupid No Right Turn signs affords us the opportunity to :
- observe teenage girls practicing to become street walkers (given their attire and the fact that they were leaning into cars to talk to boys who were at least smart enough to (a) dress more warmly and (b) not bother getting out of their cars when they dropped by the local hang-out/hooker-training-camp)
- teenage girls desperate to become tomorrows sexual assault headlines (given their attire, the time of night and the area they were traversing - don't get me wrong, I place the blame squarely on the offenders in these cases but just because I think you have the right to walk about at 10 o'clock at night on semi-deserted streets in shorts so short I can tell if you have piercings in interesting places doesn't mean I think it's a smart move)
- have the following marital exchange:
"Do a U-turn"
"No"
"Pull into a driveway and do a 3-pointer"
"I'm trying but I can't find a driveway"
"Driveway... driveway....... drivew-"
"I know! But by the time I see them I'm past them!"
"Slow down?"
"Yes dear"
"Driveway"
"@#$%!"
"Look here's an empty 10 car parking bay, do you think you can make that?!"
"Dunno let's find out, hang on"
"Jesus!"
We get back onto Pacific going in the right direction and make the turn we missed 15mins ago.
So we continue on our merry way, heading down the Pacific Hwy (looking for the love getaway indeed). At about the 50km mark I decide it's time to check in with TBSFC and confirm we are still following her instructions and low and behold what do we find, but that there are now TWO blue lines; one on the Pacific Hwy and one on the freeway. Looking ahead Mari finds that it is leading us to an entrance to the freeway around Brooklyn which will leave us heading BACK to Sydney.
"Impossible!", I proclaim. "I'm sure she is leading us around to the other side of the freeway to continue north!"
Alas it is as Mari says and we find ourselves heading back to Sydney along the F3. After 5 mins I pull over into a breakdown lane and check TBSFC myself and Mari decides that she can't navigate properly if she doesn't know where we are going. I tell her and she rings the place to get directions from where we are, all faith in TBSFC having long since departed.
While she gets directions I discover that TBSFC is in fact leading us back to Hornsby so that we may take the left turn we missed at around the 37km mark onto Galston Rd. While Mari and I debate whether or not to follow the new instructions of the Retreat Proprietors or the GPS's new route the operators ring back and after I inform them we are in fact heading south and not north, proceed to give me exactly the directions the GPS is giving us. And so faith restored in the GPS we get under way once more and make our way back to Hornsby (again) on the F3. We get back, turn around, manage not to miss the turns we missed the first couple of times through, find the turn off to Galston Rd and soon find ourselves descending a densely wooded mountain in a series of tight switch-backs that have Mari constantly telling me to slow to a crawl and freaking out because the trees are "spooky!". Once down the mountain we regain a measure of civilization and proceed to the end of Galston Rd, turn right and proceed for about half an hour down the Old Northern Rd at the end of which we once again find ourselves descending a steep, densely wooded mountainside via a series of tight switch-backs which Mari once more finds unnerving and spooky. At the bottom of the mountainside we spill out onto the main drag of Wisemans Ferry very much as if we had been hammering on a door which someone has suddenly opened spilling us unceremoniously to the floor.
Now, we still do not know where our accommodation is to be found and it is now midnight. However, WF only has one road so we feel fairly confident that it can't be too damned hard to find. Oh how little did we know.
We turned right on the main drag and proceeded slowly along it, looking at all the locations along it's length until abruptly we found ourselves at the end of the road staring at a very dark, closed ferry dock; glad that we had not taken the alternate route north via the F3 which would have had us arrive on the wrong side of the river with no ferry 'till morning. Turning around we proceed even more slowly (assuming we have missed our accommodation somehow on the previous pass) along the main drag looking for our place. We find, right up the other end near the foot of the mountain, a place called "Retreat at Wisemans Ferry" and, hope springing eternal, begin to concoct stories about how the "Forgotten Valley" part must have been removed from the name of the place since we booked. Entering the car park we find it is a fairly standard (and quite substantial) motor inn type affair with all the facilities promised by our accommodation (golf, tennis, pool, etc) and in a cruel twist of fate, aimed squarely at me, sports a parking lot guaranteeing I wont have to worry about dirty great, hairy spiders stowing away in my car.
Cruel because alas it is clearly not the place we are looking for. It looks nothing like the pictures in the brochure. With a heavy heart I turn the car around and make to depart the place, however we stop for a moment for Mari to see if she can get any mobile coverage on either of our phones (mine wins, ha!) and calls the proprietors again. While she's talking with them, the proprietor of the place who's carpark we are currently idling in walks up to the drivers-side window and asks if we need a room. I tell him where we are looking for and he gives us directions (and an offer of a room should we decide to stay) which, much like the 67kms on the Pacific Hwy thing, will turn out to be just slightly wrong enough to send us down the long and lonely road to nowhere. For what will seem like forever.
Tune in next time for :
Episode 2: The Road Goes Ever On... And On.
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