Picture Perfect Australia

Picture Perfect Australia

Two months. Two whole months just for me and my surroundings. Had I done the right thing, leaving all behind and going off on my own?

I arrived at Perth Airport utterly hassled by the overrated busyness of an everyday life everybody seems to live these days. After a couple of days exploring Perth by bike, my mind settled and started to get used to the idea of those two months ahead of me. 

I picked up my rental jeep: A sturdy looking Toyota, fortunately not too big, Women seem to have difficulty in parking, even in a vast country as Australia although I dare to disagree. Figuring out the workings of the car (remember, I am still a woman) it struck me that I had completely forgotten to look at a map. Where was I actually going? I decided to just keep going and ten minutes later I hit a junction: Left or right? Right would take me to the coast, left would take me inland which probably meant: mountains.

Mountains it had to be, of course. Mountains are majestic, they trigger awe and respect; they reach up to the stars in heaven and make you aware of the world you live in. I breathe in mountains, they are the thing I so sorely miss in my flat home country. So, Stirling Range turned out to be the choice for the day. 

The trip took a considerable amount of time as I had some stocking up to do first: wine, water, coffee not necessarily in that order but all vital things to have.  Following the sun slowly turning its eternal path to the west I drove into the quiet nature reserve Stirling Range Park, skirting around quite a large snake on the dirt road. Australia: one of the most beautiful countries containing also the most deadly species of spiders and snakes. I am scared out of my wits for both.

Without any warning, the road stopped.  No sign, no explanation, nothing. The lady at the Stirling Range Retreat had said to call if I was in any trouble or needed directions. She warned me to be sure to arrive before nightfall. Seeing the sun setting rapidly, I decided not to be the tough, cool one and just call. Besides, females understand each other perfectly when they are lost.

Arriving at the Retreat the camp was almost deserted except for two campers parked with their noses to the sunset I just missed. She happily offered me to crash anywhere I liked: sleep in my car, pitch a tent or treat myself and take a small cabin, bare but with a shower. I took the latter and after a glass of fine Australian Pinot Noir accompanied by a turkey sandwich, I dreamt of into the Dreamland I was in.

The next day Bluff Knoll had to be climbed. Its rugged summit dominated the view from the retreat and I started off early in the morning to avoid the heat. This is what I came for wasn’t it?

The climb was a good one, not too difficult or exhausting although trying to stay in shape back home, does help. On my way up I reminded myself to renew my subscription to the tennis club back home. Oversized black lizards lazily turned their eyes on me when passing and colorful birds accompanied me along the way. After two hours I reached the top and was rewarded with a stunning view, silencing my thoughts to cherish the here and now: free to do as I pleased in an oversized country full of exquisite nature for the coming two months. On that summit I realised the Irish poet Yeats was right: “the world is indeed full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper”. 

After returning, the afternoon was a lazy one: pouring over my guidebooks, looking at road maps and just gazing at my surroundings. Nobody to answer to, nobody to worry about and a phone utterly out of reach.     

The sunset I missed the day before, was one I had never experienced and maybe never will. It was picture perfect, fit for a postcard nobody would believe to be real. I made around twenty pictures to be sure I had not dreamt it all.  The night fell quickly and turned into a carpet with thousands of stars winking at me, saying: you came to the right place. Gazing at this otherworldly sky I remembered another line of Yeats: “When one gets quiet, then something wakes up inside one, something happy and quiet like the stars.”  It did. The road took me to the right place.

About the author ​Cécile Riphagen

As General Manager of an international non-profit organisation for international taxation with members across the globe, I have to travel extensively which I consider one of the most beautiful gifts I could get in a job. It has brought me to several places I visited again at leisure. It has also taught me to use my time wisely: Travelers have a prioritized agenda to work on in the event of an unscheduled disruption. For the real traveller there is no such thing as dead time. That is how the writing of stories began.

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