If you don’t know me at all, you may be surprised to learn that my flight to the other side of the planet was a bit spontaneous; and if buying the ticket was unplanned, the rest of the trip remained just so. I didn’t plan ahead at all. I didn’t know where I’d be staying when I arrived. I didn’t know which direction I’d be heading in after getting off the plane. I certainly didn’t know how I would manage to survive long term in this foreign country; a place I’d never been, where I knew no one, had no connections or work, or solid ideas for how to find such things. If you don’t know me at all, my making such a leap may well come as a surprise to you. If you do know me, then you’ve probably a slightly different perspective on this whole affair.
My taking this risk comes down to two things. Firstly; however strange and difficult my relationship with God is, and has been especially for the last couple of years, deep inside myself I do trust that wherever I go, I will somehow be taken care of, because there is someone looking out for me who has true control, and cares for me. Secondly; I think people are largely good-natured, generally happy (or at least willing) to lend a hand to someone in need, and given that there are so many of them around, finding means of subsistence can’t be all that hard. And not to spoil the rest of this post, but these two convictions have still held true in my life. However, that doesn’t mean I am unwilling to adapt when circumstances require it.
So I’d like to share a story.
On Monday the 20th I arrived in Devonport via the Spirit of Tasmania, and through circumstances which I may detail at a later date, found myself Tuesday morning in Ulverstone, Tasmania. (Thank you, Tim and Zarlee, for the couch, and the McDonald’s.) After leaving my hosts’ home in the late morning, I made me way toward the centre of town, deciding to stop on a little port area where some boats were docked, and sit down to write in my journal a bit. Within a few minutes, an older man came by, greeted me kindly, and began washing the windows. After another minute, he struck up a conversation with me, and we talked about what had brought me to Australia (particularly to this part of it), the area round about, the things worth seeing, his previous travels, how he became a window washer years ago, all sorts of things. The man’s name was Neil, he was sixty-eight years old, though didn’t quite look it, he’d been a vegetarian for some forty years, and lived in Tasmania for close to a decade. Neil was a wonderful conversationalist, and he and I chatted for some thirty minutes or so, while he cleaned the windows. After his business there was done, he gave me some window washing tips, said g’day, and went on his way. I sat down again at my table with my journal, and reflected on this lovely interchange. Not two minutes later, I struck up a conversation with an old lady who was sitting nearby, asking her opinions on places to eat or have a coffee nearby. She showed me round the corner where we could look up the hill to where a good cafe was, and then we walked back to the bench where she was sitting and continued talking. A few moments later her husband came back and joined us. Their names are James and Nicki. We continued chatting for a bit, and after their meal of fish and chips was brought to them they insisted on my sharing it with them, as it was too much for them to eat on their own. After a bit, James and Nicki got up and went on their way, and gave me the box of the remaining chips. So I didn’t end up needing to buy lunch after all.
After this I headed off toward the cafe which had been recommended to me, but finding that it had closed, I walked further down the street to a bakery, ordered myself a cappuccino, and did a bit of writing. Then I got up, and went walking about town a bit — particularly in search of a place where I might pick up another book to read, as I’d nearly finished with Pride and Prejudice at this time. On the way to the Salvation Army store, I happened to come upon a used book shop, and so I went in there instead. After asking the opinion of the shop owner, Pete, I picked out a book and sat down on the floor to see if I liked it. Within a few pages I’d decided I did, so I placed the book on the counter for purchase, and then asked Pete’s opinion on traveling Tasmania by either the west or east coast. He gave his opinion, showed me some maps, and informed me that if I went westward I could take a bus from Burnie all the way down to Hobart. After this helpful exchange, I purchased my book, left the shop, and headed out.
Really I simply began by walking westward along the road, assuming that I’d hitch a ride from someone at some point. Not a few miles down I came upon a couple of ladies standing upon the sidewalk (or “foot path”) looking at a red grocery basket which was lying on its side, covered by what seemed to be a welcome mat, and a bath towel. On the ground nearby lay a square-headed shovel, and partially burrowed into the ground to the side of the path where there was a little wall built up with flowers along the front part of someone’s property, was a terrified echidna. It seems that this animal had somehow got out here onto the side of the road, and was in real danger of being run over, and so these nice ladies had pulled over and begun trying to coax it into the basket in a rescue attempt. I had come along at the perfect time. We talked a bit about the situation, and I offered my help. So, after a bit of struggle and some reassuring words to the little ant eater, we managed to pull him out and get him into the basket. I went inside with the old lady who had emerged from the house, filled my water bottle, then went back outside and found that the ladies were volunteering to take me to Penguin, the town to the west that I’d been making for. So I hopped into the car, and off we went. Firstly to find the echidna a new home, and secondly to bring me to my next stop.
And now we come to the crux of the story.
It was late afternoon when I arrived in Penguin. The sun was on the descent, and the little town was rather quiet, even for such a place as this seemed to be. I walked along the beach, and looked out at the water. I put my pack down on the sand, and stood still as the wind buffeted my clothes about me, and tickled my skin. It is a magical thing, being on the edge of the ocean. Such vastness, such immeasurable power, strength and mystery. It is humbling to behold. Yet even given this intense magnetism, I knew I must be moving on, and figuring out the next step. For the time being, this meant walking about the town more, and hopefully meeting people. Somehow this act in my case always leads to interesting encounters, that usually lead in turn to finding a place to stay. But not this time.
Penguin has a hostel, just one. I went into this building as the sun was getting ready for sleep, sending out her last horizontal golden rays over the hills to the west. I enquired at the bar, and found that the place was booked, in fact quite full for the rest of the month. I shrugged my shoulders, assured the bartender that it wasn’t a problem, and ordered food, figuring I would simply proceed to the next step, which was having a proper meal, which I hadn’t done for some time. I sat down, and my food was brought to me. There were other people round about, also eating, but I didn’t talk with any of them. Nothing came up. I finished eating, paid my bill, and left the building, still confident that something would come about. Somehow I would have a place to sleep.
I walked about the town more, saying little more than hello to the few late stragglers I met with, eyeing the park, and the cricket field. The longer I walked about, the clearer it became to me that I wasn’t going to find a place indoors where I could rest my head. So, eventually, I made me way back to the beach, and set my pack down upon a bench which was to one side of the path, up above the tide line upon a wall. I walked down the length of the twilit beach, came back to the bench I had selected, took off my glasses, and lay down. I may have managed a short nap or two before realizing that I simply was not going to be able to sleep in this spot. The wind was very obvious here, and it was getting into the fifties. So, about midnight, I got up, and started walking, thinking that I could at least warm myself up somewhat in this way, but also that I could surely find a more sheltered spot to lie down. So, walking on again, I found myself at the park, and once again decided against it as a too open place, where I would likely get in trouble and be asked to move before I’d had any decent rest. So, as I usually do in times of need, I began walking toward a church that I saw on Google Maps. It was up a hill away from the beach, off of the main road, and the walk as I drew near was quite dark — honestly I found it rather creepy, even with my phone for light. Making it to the church, which was a lovely old stone building, I walked round to the front door, and found that it was covered over by a large vestibule, which would serve nicely as a windbreak for me. So, again putting my pack down, this time upon the ground outside the door to the house of God, I lay myself upon the floor, and did my best to get comfortable.
I spent the night trying to keep my body close enough to itself to stay warm, yet positioned in such a way on the pavement so that I could still be reasonably comfortable. I slept on and off until the sky began turning from black to grey, then grey to blue. I then got up, and started walking again, still quite tired, though not very sore, surprisingly. The town was still asleep as I went back to the main road and began moving westward again, sticking my thumb out for a ride whenever the occasional car came by.
Why does this story matter? Because, though I slept outside, and was cold, and uncomfortable, and woke without being able to have any breakfast; though I still didn’t know where I would spend the next night, when I would get to the next town or what I would do when I did; though all of this was true, somehow my heart was more at peace now than it had been through all my journey up to this point. When I was wandering around Penguin without having found a place to stay, I wasn’t worried. When the lady in the hostel told me she didn’t have a spare bed, I wasn’t worried. When I laid down on the bench, and when I got up to go for a midnight stroll for a warmer spot, I wasn’t worried. In all of this, I was calm, and I talked to God, and thanked Him for what I did have. Somehow I could be thankful now, when I hadn’t been on my arrival in Sydney, where I had a hostel to stay in and food to eat, and where it was warm enough that I could have slept outside in comfort. When I was there, I was unkind to myself, I was ungrateful, I didn’t want to talk to God, and I wanted to go home. Yet this night, when I was cold, and had no place to go, I was thankful, and trusting, as I don’t know that I’ve ever been before.
It is amazing how quickly things can change. And how a simple adjustment in mindset, in habit, can so profoundly affect your situation. That adjustment for me has looked like talking to God, simply, giving thanks to Him, and choosing to believe that things will be all right; reading my Bible again, and looking for the love of Jesus in its pages; believing in my worth, that I am valuable, that I have things to offer the world, and I can make an impact on those around me, simply by loving them in the little ways I know how. As I rode the bus toward Hobart today I looked out the window at the trees and the hills, and felt like crying, as I realized that I was happy. Ten thousand miles away from all of those who I love most, and who love me, surrounded by uncertainty, yet I am hopeful in the truest sense I’ve ever been.
I realized at some point in 2019 that I had never yet come to a place when, if offered the choice by God, to stay, or to leave it all, that I would choose to stay. For me, to keep going has always just seemed like struggle, and little else. Internally, I’ve always wanted rest from it all, and never been able to find it. For the first time that I can recall, in the middle of struggle, I am finding rest. And I want to keep going. I am learning how to love myself, and how to have hope. I am being given peace in my trials, beauty for my ashes. And I’m accepting it gratefully.
I hope you know that you are loved. I hope that if you are where I have been, you can come also to where I am going.
with love,
— Joel
Geeky Things
Camera: Google Pixel 2
Location: Ulverstone & Penguin, Tasmania
Notes: I’ve chosen to include only mobile images in this post. One reason for that is that I’m simply not quite finished processing the images from my X-Pro2 that I made during this adventure; another reason is that I want to remind everyone that making good images doesn’t require a “big camera,” but is something that can be done with whatever tool you have on hand. Use what you have, and enjoy the process. I do shoot in raw with my phone, then import into Lightroom to adjust tones and exposure — the curves tool is really helpful for this. I then export JPEG copies of the images, import those into VSCO, and apply the last colour and basic tonal and sharpening effects. Most of the these shots were edited with M5 in VSCO.