“My daddy’s going to miss you”

Shadow Lines

We were always so safe. We climbed hundreds of crags too numerous to recall.
But they were all classics.

Tombstone Wall, Flake Crack, Eternity, Faith, Hope & Charity for a laugh.
The Carthagenian, and Pyschopath, Psychodrama all on hyacinth days, our dreams were pure azure.

It was all ahead of us. Venturing into Cosmic County above Little Hartley Vale while Dawn recuperated in her rustic farm cottage hundreds of meters below us on the valley floor.

The screeches of Yellow tailed Black cockatoos, and the early migration of Pardalotes and Silver Eyes.

How was the day we climbed with Jules in 60 knots of wind, gum trees crashing into the valley below as we sought shelter in the laminar flow inches from the cliff face – what were we thinking, but god we howled with laughter.

We shared our techniques, aspirations, our concerns and spoke of our loves, and the small disappointments. Blood was spilt, and skin was lost, but the days were magic.

Returning home, you never stopped yabbering, but we soared on focused adrenalin – it was intoxicating.

The climbs went further Mt York, Corroborree Wall, falling off Narrow Neck – the stench of fear that remained unacknowledged.

The granite walls of Tarana – and the absolute embarrassment of having stepped in ones poo and being shadowed and tormented by it for the rest of the day by this unescapable stench.

Then in the pub with all those old fossils secretly listening to Pauline as she regaled about her days of dancing and having to shave.
I laughed so hard I was sure I was going to throw up.

The cliff faces off the Joey and North Head. Point Perpendicular.

The Warrumbungles – what a pantheon of problems.

Caught on Belougery Spire with a severed rope and a retreating light. It was always controlled, never irrational.
The problem was methodically worked. “Work the problem” was the mantra.

It was safe, and yes it was scary, but we could not admit that.
The crime was not facing it. Although we would grudgingly confess over a beer, hours later with laughter freed.

What about our canyons – the Wollangambie, Deep Pass Canyon, Christy’s creek, Butterbox, Serendipity, Claustral, Bell Creek, Bungonia, The Slot, Yileen, Wheengee-Whungee.

Man we had some great trips.
The Green Room, Firefly canyon, Explorers Brook, glowworms, Hole in he Wall, and Kalang.
And the Wollomi pine in Murdering Gully - no one believed me.

The forgettable back country skiing trip.

You fell over in the car park and broke your finger!
I thought using the glove to splint your finger was pure genius, but we didn’t factor in the pain. The ice climbing at Blue lake, and camping under the stars – we could have been anywhere.

Then there was the Wolgan and your constant chatter about surfing.
You never stopped talking, except when you were eating.
Funny though, I hadn’t surfed in 15 years, and I started dreaming again.
Dreams, how we dreamt of new adventures so I bought a board and flew to Bali with Sam.

The next phase started – Curly was always the beacon, the Bower at 8 foot.
Then we rediscovered North Narra, the Gardens, the Butterbox, and Longy 5 foot and cranking. The day we discovered Rock Pools with no one out double overhead, nasty, and fast. Bungan with Ted, the pool, the Peak, the Wedge, the Joey but this time we weren’t climbing.

The day we spent 3 hours searching for a wave on the Northern Beaches, and decided to blow Sydney off by driving 3 hours North to the Ruins.
What a call – 3 sessions, 6 hours in the water and then you wanted to go surfing with a shark! “Mate, what would you like me to say to Dawn?” “Yeah dumb idea”.

What a haven – Wallabi Point, Boomerang, Blueys, Cellitos, Seal Rocks and the back beach. Remember that day with Ben, You and I and that guy on the longboard.

It was another perfect day. It was 4 –5 foot, crystal clear, deep blue skies, not a whisper of a cloud to be seen, and a gluttony of waves.

We surfed until our arms nearly parted company.

And the night we surfed Seal Rocks n that perfect cyclone swell till 9 o’clock- “just ONE more wave!”.
The fish had been in the car all day, and Charlie and Sam were back at the house.
Yes we were shitting ourselves, but we laughed, albeit nervously.

Then there was Treachery, the Pass, Lennox, Noosa, Black Rock and Green Island.

Then you got Gerard and the Walkley.
Mate I was so proud.

You told of discussions with Burge and the Jakarta posting.

I secretly wished Belinda would derail those plans and retain you in Sydney.

The day you came to Willoughby and declared you jagged the Jakarta posting and Izzy my 6 year old saying the words I was only just learning how to utter.

My daddy’s going to miss you”.

My god I did.
When Sam suggested I head over to Java to go surfing – I was off.

Cemaja that first day was awful.
That evening on a setting sun and a rising moon, walking through the padi fields to that perfect left hander at Loji – I thought I was on drugs.
Then Sawarna – 8 foot and deadly.
I got the grand tour of the reef on 4 occasions to your constant laughter, and then it clicked.

Five hour sessions in the middle of the Indian Ocean – 8,000 miles between us and land to the south west.
It was corduroy, deadly corduroy as far as the eye could see, and as much as you could charge at.
And charge we did for 9 days with Ev. What a tour.

Then at Christmas surfing off Bungan – shit it was cold.
But we talked for hours.

It was the happiest I have known you.
You seemed to have found your sweet spot.
Talk of Nila, the buzz of work and surfing the southern Javanese coastline.
I was envious and restless for more adventure.

Mate what happened? What were you thinking?
Why did you leave your body behind?
Camille painted you a picture today.
Mate, you can’t have it unless you come and pick it up.

And Izzy has kept asking “But WHY Daddy”.
That has been the only thing that has resonated this last week.

I have bellowed long and hard whispering away my misery.

I look to the front page and see coffins draped in flags and I can’t read a word.

Drought? I could irrigate the soil from the misery that still spills over my cheeks.

Morgs what happened, what fucken happened!

“One crowded hour”. I enjoyed a lifetime of them with you.

Vale Morgs.

Dominic O'loughlin