Ch 5 continued. Fictitious Facts I

Ch 5 continued. Fictitious Facts I

They drove many miles south past Naretha, turned east, and continuing their journey along a dirt road lined with ‘Spotted Gum’ and thick scrub. At the roads end was a place called Skishon which was situated in a large bay named; Visarg Bay. It was there they parked. The street was long and wide and lined with old but functional retail outlets. Behind the shops presented a marvellous ocean scenery upon which moored a fleet of fishing trawlers. While Ted was questioning a local shop keeper regarding who was able to authorize his intent to camp on the foreshore, everyone else got out of the car, took a deep breath of fresh air and stretched their legs in play. Ted returned with good news; they were allowed to camp anywhere they wished for a small fee payable on-site to a Council ranger, when and if they made their rounds. The campsite they chose was on an elevated bank overlooking the vast blue waters of the bay. Only another two tents were in view and they were placed far enough away to afford the Scotsdon’s complete privacy. The land virtually encircled the bay, reaching nearly to the centre on one side, and in the distance perched high on the end of the headland was a lighthouse; it looked to be lonely and isolated like it sprouted in a forsaken land. A small island to the far right of the bay likened itself to images of paradise. It was empty and secluded and yet near enough to fantasize how great it would be to settle on it for a reclusive lifestyle, familiar only to the rich and famous; the setting was inexpressible and warranted many admirable and silent stares. They remained speechless while their senses adapted to the beauty and freedom the townsfolk and the wildlife inhabiting this area so nonchalantly enjoyed. The helical threaded eggs of the ‘Port Jackson’ sharks scattered the beach, and the clean grains of sand swept in and out with the roll of each wave leaving a perfect reflection of the clouds in the wet smooth glistening surface. At first Don beheld the same appreciation to the scenic setting as his family, he thought it to be the biggest and best bay in the world, but as all children his admiration soon wavered into decline and it did not take long before his boredom and restless nature began looking to annoy someone. All tried to ignore his disruptive conduct, instead focusing on relaxation and absorption of the splendour around them. Ted was contemplating the possibility of being marooned on that little island: ‘It would allow perfect isolation to dodge the problems and predicaments of work, finance, housing, and life in general.’ His mentations led to a mixture of extraordinary adventures lending fabrications only possible within storybooks; ‘It’s nice to dream,’ he thought. Rene and the older two children went about organising the site while chastising Don.

Over the following few days they explored as much of the area as possible. Regrettably the essence of time meant they had to move on because Ted wanted to make the best of his planned schedule to involve seeing as much of the wider region as he could before returning to work; this meant it was time to pack up the gear. All chipped in, but not without gripe and objection. Leaving a place with such magnetism brought on heavy hearts, yet they knew deep down the infeasibility of staying. A continuation of their journey was out of Skishon by return of the same road as already travelled inbound. When they got to a point where the road met the main highway at Wirrageen a decision was called for. Here at the junction two petrol stations rest adjacent to one another; one on each corner. Don and his siblings expected their father to head north for the return home but Ted adjudicated otherwise and made a sharp left turn. When a few miles further south he looked at the map and positioned himself about two miles short of the next town named, Tongerma. At first he was going to stop there to refuel, but a glance down at the petrol gauge found the needle near empty so he chose to pull into the first ‘service station’ in view; it was a ‘Golden Fleece’. Besides he had to stop because members were complaining of their bladder issues needing instant attention.

BUY BOOKS:         http://www.amazon.com/author/dennisdurant

GOOGLE BLOG:    http://dennisdrnt.blogspot.com

MY WEBSITE:       http://dennisdrnt.wix.com/fictitious-facts