Listening Earth Blog

Firstly, many thanks to those of you who wrote after our recent blog and newsletter, expressing condolences on the passing of my mother. It was comforting for both Sarah and myself to read your kind and reflective thoughts.

We have now returned from several weeks in Western Australia, specifically to scatter mum’s ashes on Rottnest Island, where she had happy memories of summer holidays as a child. We also spent a week in Perth, catching up with mum’s extended family and friends, and being hospitably passed from household to household. It was an opportunity to renew ties, and for them to say their goodbyes too.

The scattering itself turned out to be an easier occasion than we had anticipated.

Sarah and I caught the ferry over to Rottnest, which lies about 18km off the coast of Perth. It is a beautiful island, however we’d been warned that it had become quite commercial. Whilst the development was obvious, we didn’t find it off-putting (although we weren’t there during the summer peak season!).

The settlement itself is heritage-listed, and we found the colonial-period limestone cottage where mum spent her summers was much as she would have remembered it. Cars are not allowed on the island, and it was interesting to observe that this seemed to foster a safe, holiday atmosphere. Gaggles of kids walk the streets and everyone cycles, creating a relaxed ambience refreshingly free of noise.

One of the highlights of Rottnest are the Quokkas (Setonix brachyurus), the very cute little native marsupials which abound there, and after which the island was named (being a derivation of the Dutch for ‘Rat’s nest’… well, Quokkas do look a bit ratty). These little critters are everywhere (there are an estimated 12,000 on the island), and whilst largely nocturnal, can often be seen during late afternoon and early morning, grazing quietly by pathways and hopping among bushes.

Shortly after we arrived, Sarah and I hired bicycles and rode up to The Basin, a sheltered swimming beach about 1km from the main settlement. As soon as we arrived, we knew this was the place mum had spent so many happy days in her childhood. We recognised it from her holiday photos, including one large rock she and her pals had been photographed behind, changing their bathers, mum bare-bummed and looking cheekily over her shoulder.

The following morning, we arose at first light and cycled up there, mum’s ashes carried in a small trailer behind. We joked to ourselves that her funeral cortège consisted of two bicycles, with me playing hearse, and a guard of honour consisting of contented Quokkas.

The tide was going out, the air was still, and we had the beach to ourselves. As the first rays of sun peeked over the horizon we said our goodbyes, and I sprinkled her on a retreating wave. We set her free. Sarah then spontaneously tossed in a string of seaweed, recalling the picture we had of her as a lanky 15 year old, garlanded like a mermaid.

As you can probably sense, it was a lovely occasion for us to remember, and a beautiful end for someone we love so much.

On our return journey through Western Australia and over the Nullarbor plain, we camped out, photographing and sound recording. A return to our old life, or the beginning of a new phase? We’ll have to see…