Hightide

Despite the imagined competition between the stars, to see which one could shine the brightest, darkness reigned over our little party of traversers. The tide was high and the stone path which led over the mud and mangrove swamp was flooded with ankle high water. You had to step carefully ,so as to not tip over and fall into the watery and muddy swamp.
It was late and we had been travelling for several hours. Since 4.30 in the morning. Mother had given us a ¼ seasick tablet the night before as we were always immensely elated before our holiday in Gould´s Bay on the Hawkesbury River. Water was the medium. Although during the droughts the creek was as dry as a teatowel.
We jumped from the small ferry onto the pier, loaded our luggage the same way.We waited until the ferry chugged and drew out from the bridge, waved and then all was quiet.
“step carefully girls” our mother said and we were on our way along the stone path.
You had to watch every step. The stones weren’t slippery and we had gumboots on so we didn’t get wet. At least not very!
Them we reached the bottom of the hill - climb to the houses. The Main House and the Goat House and Rat Cottage. Goat House was where we 4 girls slept. Mother usually slept there too, unless she slept with Uncle John which was a bit of a surprise one morning . We all woke and set out to look for Mummy.She wasn't in any of the familiar places. We found her in the Main House, in the main bedroom in the 4 poster bed with mosquito net over it. There she was and by her side was Uncle John.
Heavens we must have been about 14 to 6 years old. There was almost less than 2 years between each of us.
We got to the Main house, found the key in the old canoe on the verandah and opened the back door which led to the large kitchen.
There was no sense in setting the generator running tonight. It was late and everyone was very tired. Mother had to get us to bed so the generator had to wait until next morning. This was the source of electricity and was driven by kerosene I seem to remember. It was in the outhouse by the loo not far from just one of the huge water tanks ( the third one was built in our time). In dry times water was rationed. No major baths and watch out when you brushed your teeth. We used to look out for all signs of rain when the drought set in . The worst part of the dry times was the bushfire hazard. Once we fought off the flames which were very close to the main house. We used wet sacks and everyone was occupied, even little sister.
Breakfast: eggs and bacon on toast. You fry the bacon and eggs,dip the bread in the frying fat and toast them slightly on the pan and it tastes just scrumpious.
We went to say hello to the goats who at least once wandered into the Goat House and woke us in the morning, hence the name. Down to the creek which at this time of year (winter) was overflowing, water cascading down the rocks from high up the mountain.It was rainwater.
A short walk to the henhouse which almost always was empty. A gouana liked to eat the fresh layed eggs. It would be outside the wire mesh fence in a tree and then it would just slide into the chicken yard and steal the eggs. You could see the egg on its way down the gouanas throat as it slithered away.
Mr Oliver would eventually show up and say goodday. He had his dog Laddy with him everywhere.
Mr Carter had his house hanging on the cliffs right down to the river and he had a sailing boat. We hardly ever spoke to him. But he was a kind elderly gentleman.
Mr Oliver lived in a tiny tin shack on the farther side of the pecan nut field and we were always mesmerized by the can of Milo chocolate sitting there on one shelf as you peeked through the sack doorway.
We loved cuddling the goats and they could even eat the paper wrapping on an empty baked beans can.
The cacaphonic sound from the birds, the grasshoppers and the cicadas. The Jacaranda in full bloom, the ferns and the mangrove swamp which was at a standstill, being it winter.
We seldom went further up the creek unless the grown-ups were with us . Then we would make a day trip out of climbing up the mountain and swimming in the rock pools along our way. The liar bird we never saw. It could imitate every bird in the rain forest. We often took this trek with the grown-ups. Once we saw a brown snake all curled up on a rock basking in the warm sun. It was a poisonous one of course. There weren’t any snakes that weren’t poisonous.