Now, where do I begin. I spent a few days in the Snowy Mountains this week in a remote part of the Kosciusko National Park at a place called Currango. Cold nights in a homestead that has no heating other than by fire, where the stove top is by timber fire, where we boil water in a huge pot with a spout, where the shower is a can you raise by rope after boiling the water first. The only luxury is two flushing toilets.
I have my city friends but over the years I have come to have my friends in the
Snowys. It started when a woman 14 years my senior seduced me one afternoon in
a mountain restaurant and the six months we spent on and off again both excited
me and concurrently broke me at the end of it. But in the process I met so many
people from the mountain, her friends to begin with, and from there I branched
out and I have not looked back.
These days I get invited out on one of their annual trips, something so
special, something so rustic and against the digital age that it is as close to
camping as one might get but with a roof over your head.
My friend Jodie leads the group and she is a most excellent chef and prepares
so much great food and wine prior to heading out there that we eat and drink
like kings and queens, play backgammon, sleep, read books, eat some more
cheese, play some more backgammon. In the evenings a fire pit not 20 metres
away, bordered by logs to sit on, accompanied by those outdoor collapsible
camping chairs, serves as a pre-dinner gathering to drink and occasionally I
bring some light edibles and so begins the sunset with some music over a small
speaker playing classics - anything from Lou Reed to Arlo Guthrie.
One of their greatest joys of becoming closer to these people over the years is
watching them all, especially the horse riders, adopt our silk scarves. In the
beginning only one friend, Tony, was the early adopter and as you may know we
made a scarf design dedicated to him after he lost his horse Bob.
These days scarves are worn by most of the riders and this year I got on my
first horse with them. Normally I was relegated to cycling only because my
weight, so said Tony, would break his horse until I came under 100 kilos -
thank you Mounjaro. So now, mounting my steed at the old 1850’s homestead I
took a trail ride with 9 other riders as we moved along the thick grasses of
the plain, crossing brooks and embankments, navigating between scrub and
thickets as we headed across varying country.
And at night, when group moved from sunset drinks into the main house, the room
was prepared, backgammon boards moved, the communal puzzle placed off to the
side, and the table was set for a most excellent meal, the conversation not
tempered by anyone fact checking each other on AI, general merriment, people
with genuine stories, no pretence. I am lucky to have these people in my life,
even if we don’t spend that much time together, I am the outsider, to be
included is a big privilege.
And so, during these days as they passed I first indulged in a bigger than Ben
Hur novel called Belle Seigneur, but when I got stuck on pages boring me with
bureaucracy I turned my attention to my second book, The Count Of Monte Cristo.
My God, I was turning those pages and looking forward to bed time when under a
sleeping bag I set my pillow as high as I could, turned on my red light on my
head torch and read until I could read no more.
I left the mountains a little lighter, looking forward to my work more. I have
been in a funk to some degree. I had a racy year last year, a lot of movement,
a lot of travel. This year seems far more sobering. Country life seems to be
good for sobering up.
I have an interesting life, between town and country, from having lunch when I
am in Paris with Jean-Claude from Charvet, to boiling a billy over a campfire
to make tea, they are big contrasts. And so are my clothes that accompany me,
from a NIDA event last week where I wore a suit, shirt, bow tie, with a white
cashmere overcoat, to the cashmere cap, gilet, scarf and jeans I wore on my
ride across the plains of Snowy country.
And that’s all I have for you today.
Talk soon.
