The swimming hole
Another heavy day. We’ve got camping more or less organised right now (touch wood), brewing up tea on the stove (beautiful stuff) + filling ourselves up with muesli + milk, bread + jam – a fine breakfast. Strolled to the next beach along to throw the Frisbee, but obviously we were up + moving far earlier than we had been yesterday – the beach was deserted + the tide well in. And then walked on to the second shop. They have a swimming-hole there, a bend in the river where the water is a little deeper, + the water was so sharp, cool + refreshing. And fun too – they’ve fixed up a swing rope, so one can hurl oneself into the middle. Magical. Like a TV commercial for toothpaste, or male deodorant. Swimming holes are very popular up here in North Queensland – during the summer months the sea is infested with particularly nasty + vicious jellyfish, called stingers, so people are driven inland from the beaches to freshwater swimming. Still, not being particularly aquatic people, wew tired of the attractions of the place, + spent the rest of the heat of the day sitting outside the shop in their deckchairs on the grass, under the shade of a tree.
Strolled back to the tent, once more obtaining a ride for a good chunk of it. Cooked a curry – we’re becoming most adept at one-pot wonders – then set off along the beach to find some company. There were a few people sitting around a fire, so we sat down with them, + it seemed we’d chanced upon the right venue, since in the next half-hour or so the place really filled up. At its height there must have been getting on for 20 people there. There was certainly a major attraction. Val + I had been commenting earlier in the day that there hadn’t been as much as a whiff of the wicked weed, surprising in view of the reputation of Cairns + the far north as a centre for the stuff. But this was made up for quite easily, since vast joints began to be passed round the circle, in both directions. And another guy was occupying himself in stripping the leaves from a plant + roasting them in a frying pan on the fire. The stems, presumably deemed useless, were simply cast upon the fire. Remarkable. But I wouldn’t say we had a specially wonderful evening. I was very stoned, for sure, but for that to be a nice experience one should be in a warm + friendly atmosphere, + somehow I felt distanced from the whole gathering. There were doubtless some fine people in the assembled company, ,but, as I suppose is likely to be the case, my attention was drawn to 2 or 3 to whom I took an immediate dislike. There were 2 particularly drippy English girls, public school + narrow-minded, wide-mouthed, + constantly + deliberately drawing attention to themselves. There was a guitar being played, which could have been so pleasant, but the 2 guys who took it in turns to play seemed only to like or possibly know, Neil Young’s “After the goldrush”, + I found it all rather tedious. Val did give us a little interlude on the penny whistle, + that made a pleasant change, but she was a little hesitant + nervous, + it showed. We quit the party early, + made our way back home thro’ the trees. In the state I was in, it was something of a nightmare journey… but interesting, I suppose.
Pretty much the sort of party I have been looking for, so it’s a shame it did not turn out to be as enjoyable as I had hoped. Still, at least the swimming hole was fun.
You never can tell with someone else’s weed which way you’ll go–either up into ecstatic realms of love or down into the depths of paranoia and despair. On the rare occasions I partake these days, I prefer gummies–perfectly measured and quite predictable. But I don’t suppose “recreational” THC is available yet in the UK. Vive California!