6/12 Last Walk at Pambula

I stayed behind at Jigamy while the rest of the Land Arts group stayed at Davidson. It was good to spend some time with some of the great people we met from the Field Studies program. On the last full day at Jigamy, I decided to take a long walk around the estuary, retracing my walk with Cedra from several days earlier and then going from there as far as possible. I walked on the soggy lake bed at low-tide, trying not to trample groups of scampering sand crabs. Then I walked past the Bell birds' distinctive "ping" calls coming from the tops of the eucalypts (it sounds kind of like a submarine sonar signal). Then past the masses of straw-like material washed along the edges and past the red rocks where we broke for lunch before. Beyond this was new territory. After another hour and a half, and never getting close to the ocean (it was my initial goal), I decided to take my walk into the forest, which is largely made up of big red gums and other eucalypts, as well as areas with thick fern growth. Eventually, I stopped to draw something. It was my intention to cut through the forest to a part of the estuary where I was earlier, and I was navigating by the position of the sun, taking into consideration its westward arc and the fact that in this part of the world the sun at its peak is due north. Feeling fairly confident about my location, I stayed longer than I should have to finish my work, even though the sun was rapidly descending and was actually eclipsed by the mass of land behind me. Continuing on with a renewed urgency, even running at times, I sought the edge of the estuary. Beginning to feel a little panicked, I knew to keep descending, because that would surely lead to water, but incline/decline was now more random. The forest seemed as thick as ever — I could not see a clearing in the distance that would indicate a lake. Basically, I knew I'd be screwed if I were still in the forest after dark (though in retrospect, even under these circumstances, I'd likely be okay). The fact that this was a foreign environment, about which I knew virtually nothing, started to play in my mind as I clumsily, and with increased desperation, made my way. Eventually, I came to a finger in the estuary and knew I'd at least made it to water. But I was still a ways from camp, probably an hour at normal walking pace. So, moving considerably faster than normal walking pace I raced against the descending darkness. The toughest part would be the quarter of a mile or so just before reaching the campsite, which is thick with razor-sharp sedges (a type of tall, grass like plants, with large blades that inevitably leave paper cuts on the hands). The vegetation is so thick at this part of the estuary that you just have to force your way through. This was not an option in the near total darkness now. This meant I'd have to walk into the estuary, which was now at high-tide. My imagination went a little wild as I immersed myself waist deep in the dark water, moving among the now submerged mangroves. In the movies, whenever someone does this, they get eaten my a mutant crocodile or something. Closer to reality, I did remember talk of sting rays in the lake, but there was really no other option. I was not going to attempt to fight the dense overgrowth on land in this darkness. After just a few minutes (which is a really long time in this situation) I saw an abandoned shed, signalling the edge of camp.

Even though I was probably a little stupid for waiting so late to begin my return to camp, I also knew that this experience helped me to have a more direct interaction with the wilderness. Some pics of the trip.

6/11-12 Davidson Whaling Station

Most of the Land Arts crew spent the last days at Pambula Lake in a historic whaling station. The text below is from Cedra about the station (also posted in A Letter from Cedra). Her pics of Eden/Pambula and the whaling station can be found on her Flickr set.

The station was a drafty, rambling old wooden cabin dating from the 1880s. Sometime in the last fifty years it had gotten some limited electrical wiring, which could be brought humming to life for a couple of hours at a time by starting up a generator in a nearby shed; and there was a tap connected to the cisterns full of rainwater that got channeled off the roofs of the buildings, and a drop toilet just a few seconds' walk down the hill; and there was a wooden couch and a gas fireplace. In other words, it was complete luxury compared to our previous days' conditions! More importantly, though, it was beautiful and creepy and strange, and a great place to photograph and wallow in the history of. There were black and white photos of the families that have inhabited the place over the years, and of slaughtered whales; and there were wild profusions of rambling gardens, and frogs that sang exuberantly all night, their voices bubbling up through the cracks in the floorboards; and there was a long series of steps that led down to a little sheltered stretch of beach, where everyone was drawn to do performative actions and documentation.

6/10 Beach Near Pambula

On Friday, I spent the day at a beach near camp. The pics speak for themselves about what I saw there. There were some spots there with layers of color that were revealed in my tracks. I liked the simplicity and directness of just stepping into the sand and revealing surprising underlayers. Full album

 

6/7-9 An Introduction to Jigamy and Pambula

Pambula Lake is 231 km south of Kioloa (about 144 mi). It is actually an estuary to the Tasman Sea. There are multitudes of oyster farms in the lake, which would become more or less exposed depending on the tides.
 
We had lots of rain at Jigamy (the name of our campground), which rendered art-making difficult. Sitting and talking in Yoshi's tent became one of the more productive and enjoyable activities, along with mingling with the Field Studies artists, some of whom will be featured on this blog in ensuing days.

Some side trips included investigating a logging site, attending a geological tour and staying overnight at a historical whaling station.

A few of the locals that acquainted ourselves with us during our time at Jigamy included a pony and a dog, which Cedra named "Sneakers O'Toole" (subsequently, the pony has hence become known as Seamus 'Scarface' O'Toole).

Click here to view some pics of the first few days at Jigamy.

Sydney to Kioloa to Pambula

Our camp on Pambula Lake

Pambula Lake at low tide early morning

6/6 En Route to Pambula Lake/1st Night Camping

On the way to our camp on Pambula Lake, just north of the town of Eden, we stopped to check out some amazing locations along the Far South Coast. When we arrived at Jigamy Farm, the location of our camp, we met up with artists participating in the Field Studies Eden Project. For Land Arts participants, this was our first night camping, and we got the first real taste of its being early winter in this part of the world. Ice droplets formed on my tent during the night, and I was too cold to sleep soundly through the night. The next morning was brisk and clear (that would drastically change by evening).

Forest somewhere between Kioloa and Eden

Yoshi, Bill and John on craggy cliffs

Early morning Joseph on Pambula Lake at low tide