As Glamorgan SpringBay Council and the Tasmanian Government and Opposition continue to abrogate their responsibilities to LYONS voters, I spent some time today researching some very ‘inconvenient truths’.
This is my bay.
It also belongs to many other people – the people of Tasmania. These are State waters, a beautiful sea that has provided occupation, recreation and ambience for many lifetimes of both indigenous people and newcomers.
When I talk of occupation, I talk of professions. I talk of fishermen – generations who have caught wild fish for a living. I had an uncle who was a professional fisherman. He would take his boat out and fish between the continental shelf and the shore of Tasmania, catching all manner of fish for the markets. But he fished sustainably and treated the ocean and what lived in it with respect, knowing that to over-fish would be cutting his nose to spite his face.
Today, a young family friend is also a professional fisherman, but thanks to climate change and an ecology altering by the day, his catch is sporadic and difficult.
Times have changed…
Sometimes life is for escaping from.
Sometimes it’s for escaping to.
Today was the latter…
Very early this morning, the men decided to go fishing and being totally uninterested in the hunter-gatherer thing, I asked if they could drop me at Maria Island.
The rain is hitting the window like iron nails and the wind howls banshee-style around the eaves. It’s perhaps not a night for walking.
Every night my husband and I take our dog and walk for 30-45 minutes. Most often, we look up at a black velvet sky with swathes of starry ways, even the occasional shooting star…
“Click go the shears boys, click, click, click,
Wide is his blow and his hands move quick,
The ringer looks around and is beaten by a blow,
And curses the old snagger with the bare-bellied yoe…”
It’s very quiet in the shearing shed, the day before shearing. Especially on a quiet winter’s day where the light sparkles. It’s something special after almost a year of drought, to gaze out upon green paddocks and pasture beginning to grow…
There is an internationally recognised art facility in town – MONA, the Museum of Old and New Art.
Till now, my husband and myself have always found other things to do than visit this fine collection. People would say ‘You haven’t been yet?’ and we’d sheepishly say, ‘No…’