Coming Home

Wonboyn has had its ups and downs in the short 10 or so years we have been here.  We have seen the horror of the recent bush fires and this photo will give you an indication of how close it came to us with our mate Wayne losing all his possessions and his annual site right next to us.  But now Wonboyn has recovered - with the bush regenerated and life goes on!                                                                Coming Home

Last year, forever on the move, I began to wonder when l would ever get back home to the special place that pulls at my heart.  I feel a little lost when I leave – very lonely when away – and at great peace when I return.

Wonboyn Lake works that magic on me.

It was my husband’s decision to come here. 

He identified that heart pull long before l felt any connection – his love of fishing prompted the move.  This greatly surprised me as his traditional fishing meccas were the Edwards, Murray and Darling rivers – all inland waters.

Now, it seems, salt water runs in his veins.

Very uncertainly l agreed to come here – then had to admit he was right.

At Wonboyn Lake lush forest meets the sea in breathtaking vistas of natural beauty.   All day a medley of bird-calls provide music.  Wildlife here is intriguing and the bush-garden of spring flowering native plants sends my senses reeling.

The pull of my family almost took me away from here, then, after much soul-searching, Wonboyn won out – I simply cried my way home.  The thought of being away much longer was just too much it almost tore me apart. 

I’ve noticed how, as a nation, we now move about changing homes like hermit crabs.  As we outgrow the first home we instantly look for another – and rarely look back.

In my mother’s family the home on Woodman’s hill was a constant – her parents lived there almost till their death.  My father’s family migrated from Holland after the war and fell in love with Australia making Clunes their home.

 Times have changed quite radically.  For us in our big bus, home is where-ever we park it.

For some time it’s been parked at Wonboyn Lake.  We do our exploring in the small “book mobile” van with its bed in the back and a few cupboards for our gear.  So simple – but it works.

When I’m on the road promoting new books l travel in the little van – much like a moon orbiting around a home planet – the gravitational pull of Wonboyn Lake brings me back each time.

We’ve seen this lovely place change with the seasons, draped in a variety of dramatic personas.  We’ve been flooded in many times as the river and creek on Wonboyn road runs high with water flowing off surrounding hills rushing in haste to the sea.

Sitting on our little deck we’ve watched lightning bolts slash and illuminate the night.  Recently the smoke-filled sky glowed red from bushfires edging closer.  We’ve woken to mornings white with frost followed by nights of hooting boobook owls, howls from the dingo packs and screaming greater gliders calling to starry skies.  Day and night we hear the surf pound on the beach at Disaster Bay just three kilometres away.        

At first light bird-scream is my alarm-clock.  I wake to bell minors, kookaburras, lyre-birds and their feathered mates suggesting l greet the new Wonboyn day – natural perfection!

And now as we head into Eden for the next cruise ship - setting up our book stall at the Tourist Centre we start to prepare for a book signing trip into NSW and Victoria for two weeks at the end of October and into November - always coming and going and returning back to Wonboyn to regroup and enjoy the beauty of our special home base.

The book of bush fire stories is still waiting on funding which we hope will eventuate.