The Entrance
Well, I said that I'd blog, so I may as well do some blogging. Once again, I'm typing at somebody else's desk at work. I'm like a hermit crab; once somebody has something better to do than sit at their desk, I move in on their old territory. So what's my excuse for wasting time at work this time around? Well, everybody else is out of the office, and I've hit a plateau with the work I'm doing... so time wasting, here I come.
I've titled this entry as "The Entrance", so it would be logical for me to write about our weekend there. Unfortunately, I missed out on staying on the Friday night and hearing Owen's snoring (but luckily for me, Andrew recorded his snoring so I got to experience it second hand). I did, however, get to see Sina again at his super-belated birthday party on the Friday night. Anyway, it was the hole digging from the weekend that stood out. It wasn't the biggest hole I've ever been involved in (it only got up to around my shoulder height) but it was a good team effort and it was enough of an event to draw a crowd of bored drongos. I introduced the towel method of hauling sand out of the hole to my friends, and it worked well. I was happy to see the towel become so saturated with sand that it changed colour, stretched to a disproportionately large size and become heavy to hold. This, of course, was an expected consequence of employing the towel-technique, but it was nice to see a new group of people being introduced to an honourable sand-worker towel for the first time.
I also suggested that we walk to Shelly Beach from The Entrance, and after some convincing, a few people decided that I wasn't completely off my nut. Or perhaps they decided that I was off my nut but thought that some mild insanity would be somewhat worthwhile. Once we headed off, they seemed to think that the slight drizzle and the threat of heavy rain was a bad thing, but I think that it added to the sense of adventure. Perhaps they did too, but thought that threatening to throw me into the ocean if it rained would be more well received than complimenting the ominous atmosphere. Nevertheless, I don't think anyone could have denied that there was indeed a sense of adventure when we set out. We didn't really know how long the walk would be, we didn't really know if we could get around the rock-faces between the different beaches, we didn't know if it would be dark by the time we got back... it was good to do things with a bunch of relatively non-risk takey indoors people. They made the rain seem more exciting, the rocks feel more intimidating and the dark seem more threatening.
However, a lot of that was offset by a bit of a sense of restlessness which reared its head during the walk and started to become infectious. It was not as though everyone was weeping from boredom, but I felt that a walk on a lonely beach at dusk on a drizzly day deserved a more subdued atmosphere. I don't know if anyone else noticed how pretty the salt spray looked in the air, or if anyone else let the melting of the crashing waves into the sandy shore be of some inspiration to them... so the beautiful atmosphere actually contributed to a slight sense of oppression. I wanted to just be silent and take it all in, but there was laughing and joking going on, and any halt in this banter felt more awkward than contemplative. I contributed to this just as much as anyone else, and I do like laughing and joking. But it was unfortunate that I let this spirited mood in the group make me self-conscious about just taking the walk in, without having to worry about anyone else.
After a couple of hours of walking, the group began to get tired and the silence that grew felt weary. I tried to let go of this restlessness that was not entirely mine, and for some amount of time all of the odd dynamics that arise when amognst a group of people died down into absurdity, and all that I did was walk. When I was once again drawn into coversation, it was a shame that I could not entirely take this simple clarity with me.
It was also a little unfortunate that I didn't bring my camera with me, though it does sometimes become a bit of a disruption when I'm actively looking for shots. However, Winnie was nice enough to lend me her camera for one photo:
The Entrance Photo
I've titled this entry as "The Entrance", so it would be logical for me to write about our weekend there. Unfortunately, I missed out on staying on the Friday night and hearing Owen's snoring (but luckily for me, Andrew recorded his snoring so I got to experience it second hand). I did, however, get to see Sina again at his super-belated birthday party on the Friday night. Anyway, it was the hole digging from the weekend that stood out. It wasn't the biggest hole I've ever been involved in (it only got up to around my shoulder height) but it was a good team effort and it was enough of an event to draw a crowd of bored drongos. I introduced the towel method of hauling sand out of the hole to my friends, and it worked well. I was happy to see the towel become so saturated with sand that it changed colour, stretched to a disproportionately large size and become heavy to hold. This, of course, was an expected consequence of employing the towel-technique, but it was nice to see a new group of people being introduced to an honourable sand-worker towel for the first time.
I also suggested that we walk to Shelly Beach from The Entrance, and after some convincing, a few people decided that I wasn't completely off my nut. Or perhaps they decided that I was off my nut but thought that some mild insanity would be somewhat worthwhile. Once we headed off, they seemed to think that the slight drizzle and the threat of heavy rain was a bad thing, but I think that it added to the sense of adventure. Perhaps they did too, but thought that threatening to throw me into the ocean if it rained would be more well received than complimenting the ominous atmosphere. Nevertheless, I don't think anyone could have denied that there was indeed a sense of adventure when we set out. We didn't really know how long the walk would be, we didn't really know if we could get around the rock-faces between the different beaches, we didn't know if it would be dark by the time we got back... it was good to do things with a bunch of relatively non-risk takey indoors people. They made the rain seem more exciting, the rocks feel more intimidating and the dark seem more threatening.
However, a lot of that was offset by a bit of a sense of restlessness which reared its head during the walk and started to become infectious. It was not as though everyone was weeping from boredom, but I felt that a walk on a lonely beach at dusk on a drizzly day deserved a more subdued atmosphere. I don't know if anyone else noticed how pretty the salt spray looked in the air, or if anyone else let the melting of the crashing waves into the sandy shore be of some inspiration to them... so the beautiful atmosphere actually contributed to a slight sense of oppression. I wanted to just be silent and take it all in, but there was laughing and joking going on, and any halt in this banter felt more awkward than contemplative. I contributed to this just as much as anyone else, and I do like laughing and joking. But it was unfortunate that I let this spirited mood in the group make me self-conscious about just taking the walk in, without having to worry about anyone else.
After a couple of hours of walking, the group began to get tired and the silence that grew felt weary. I tried to let go of this restlessness that was not entirely mine, and for some amount of time all of the odd dynamics that arise when amognst a group of people died down into absurdity, and all that I did was walk. When I was once again drawn into coversation, it was a shame that I could not entirely take this simple clarity with me.
It was also a little unfortunate that I didn't bring my camera with me, though it does sometimes become a bit of a disruption when I'm actively looking for shots. However, Winnie was nice enough to lend me her camera for one photo:
The Entrance Photo
posted by Gene at 11:21 am
Hurrah for Gene's blog. As one of the "relatively non-risk takey indoors people" I have to admit that it did turn out to be a pretty nice walk, and we got back just before dark as well. I'd probably feel differently if it had actually rained though, but somehow everything seemed to work out. However, I think everyone generally liked the idea of throwing you into the ocean.
Hmm, but I don't know about non-risk takey. Although, I guess no one would actually think of themselves as being a non-risk taker.
Oh, and I like the stuff you have on deviant-art.
--jun
Hurrah for Jun!
I used the word "relatively" in front of "non-risk takey" as a bit of a disclaimer. I guess you're right about most people not thinking of themselves as non-risk takers. Different people probably percieve the same thing as having different levels of risk, and different people probably act upon things that they percieve to be risky in different ways. I like the word "relative", it throws everything back onto some sort of an even playing field.
(Sorry for talking so much crap. Tends to happen when I start typing)
Glad you like the deviantART stuff :)
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