The Creek at the End of the Road

At the end of the road, there is a creek. 

A little waterway which wends narrow and sings joyous and clear around rocks, widens into calm, almost-still pools, and runs muddy and ferocious when the rains fall.

This post is a list of observations of the worlds which intersect at this creek. Many of them seemingly random, or that I have no explanations for. Let's draw on my anthropological past and call it an ethnography of the creek. Or a collection of daily ethnographies of the creek.

The creek has one little footbridge, coloured red-brown.

At the edges of the creek are combinations of trees, stones, grasses, lots of elephants ears, weeds, thickets and bushes, and in one spot, a large clump of bamboo.

After these, there are more trees. Scattered. Or in family groups of 3 and 5. Perhaps they are the original trees from when this area was originally developed in the 1970s. 

After the trees, there is grassy/parkland, some boggy patches of land and several more trees spaced further apart. On one side of the creek, a grassy area holds a basketball court. On the other side, there are two picnic tables - one is tucked into a gazebo, the other isn't.

On the side with the picnic tables, there are a couple of kids' playgrounds next to each other. They are ankle-deep in woodchips. One playground has the traditional, recognisable swing, slide, seesaw combinations. The other playground is a thing of futuristic designs - all hexagonal cubes, triangular surfboard seesaws, and a combination of thin, interconnected tubes, ropes, and speckled with lots of impossibly-tiny footholds like the ones rock-climbers use. 

A number of different suburban streets end where the grassy areas begin, on both sides of the creek.

It's a typical Brisbane suburban area. I suppose. I don't know that many local suburban areas. So I'm going to assume it's typical. 

This was my first visit to the area.

Springtime, serene and bright.

This creek, and all around it, is an almost-daily feature of our "pram-walks" - the daily post-work strolls I take with LittleOne and Indi-Girl. 

I've seen the creek in many different moods now - most of them in late afternoon, when paid work has ended, when the heat and humidity of the day is more bearable and when the sun is low and shadows are growing long. 

Without the sun, the creek usually looks darker. Solemn, and with wordless undercurrents. Whether this is the energy of the area or the energy left by people or both, I'm still not sure.

This was also the spot where Woody went missing!

We've seen plover birds here. They successfully raised a family here before we arrived and now it seems to be mainly the parents who still groove in the parklands and in a couple of select houses' gardens. 

We've also seen kookaburras here. They seem to get harassed by other birds a lot, so it's nice to see them unbothered, still and settling to sleep near dusk. 

A new sign at the bridge went up a few weeks ago, saying there are platypuses in the water, and to be careful and help protect them. This apparently caused some discussion on the local social media page, with some long-standing locals declaring they'd never seen any evidence of platypuses locally. Still, it's something to look out for when we walk in the afternoons. 

But we have seen water lizards soaking up the warmth from the footpath, and dashing into the undergrowth when people appear. 

There have been trees lit with late, golden afternoon light at just that point in autumn when the sun is properly angled to kiss them goodnight, just right. 

We've walked in cooling afternoons after hot days, when the sun-baked warmth rises deliciously from the grass and settles into your senses like the most satisfying memory you'll never remember - until you smell that same scent again. And then you will remember, and it'll feel special and long-ago and gone-forever and just-yesterday.

We've seen the creek rise after heavy rains, including the recent rainbomb (hoping desperately we're not in the middle of another one as I write this), and flood the surrounding grasslands heavily. We've seen kids walk down to said-flooded grasslands with boogie boards. We've seen the roots of the elephant ear plants wrapped around the bridge posts, around tree trunks and picnic tables when the waters receded.

During the rainbomb (above) and after (below)

I've had a mozzie (mosquito for non-Aussies) land on me that was as green as grass, with a translucent body that had gone nearly all crimson from the blood it had surreptitiously extracted from me. That mozzie didn't make it. I've seen other green mozzies since then, so I know it wasn't a figment of my imagination. But I've never seen them before Brisbane. Green. Translucent. 

There have been large, round spider webs which span the length of my arm, and which remain absolutely invisible except for the odd, errant leaves stuck to them. Recently I thought I saw a trapped butterfly sitting in silent misery. I couldn't leave it there of course. Emboldened by last year's dragonfly rescue, I gathered Indi and LittleOne and bumped and bobbled the pram over the longish lumpy grass and twigs and went to make sure it wasn't anything that was still alive. Fortunately it revealed itself to be two leaves sitting side by side to make an 'x' shape, lit up in the beautiful, still, gold colour of the late afternoon sun. 

There have been lots of strange human encounters compared to the previous place we were in. And honestly, I don't know whether the creek has attracted the weird, has been the cause of the weird, has been poisoned by the weird, or is oblivious to the many random weirds. 

The weirds have included: 

The family with super-long mullets. The dad with the waist-length, sleek, blond mullet, had the same mini-me haircut inflicted on son 2 (aged maybe 10) and son 3 (aged maybe 6). Son 1 (15 or 16) was the outlier with brown and curly un-mullet-able hair. He demonstrated his family loyalty by having his hair at shoulder length. Son 4 (aged maybe 2) was still in nappies and didn't have much by way of hair, but you could see by the long wisps that they were trying to grow his to match the rest of clan. They don't seem to be around any more. Besides the hair, the main reason I remember this family was the Saturday afternoon when sons 1 and 2 ran purposefully through the park, past the playgrounds where we were. They were carrying something that looked like a machete or some other kind of long blade. I don't know what they were trying to do with it, but I was glad I had Indi-Girl with us. Sons 3 and 4 tried to run after them but got sent back with brotherly rejection and derision. There were sulks from son 3 and toddler tears from son 4. Shortly after that, I noticed that several trees in the park had had their papery barks cut (see photo below) so that the trunks were thinner from the height of my knees to the top of my head. Several trees, same thinning, at the same starting and finishing points. I don't know if there's any kind of connection between the machete wielding and the trees, but anyway. Glad they don't seem to be around any more. 

Then there was the guy who, in the summer, for 3-4 days in a row, came to the playground in the late afternoon - usually as we were ending our pram walks - and sit on the swings and wait. Waiting for who or what, I don't know. But on day 4 or 5, he approached us in the playground, his expression diffident and quizzical. I was with LittleOne's Gran, and had Indi with us, so we had the strength of numbers. I keep assuming people know how to read dogs - and to recognise Indi is the opposite of friendly - and to not get too close. But obviously, people don't. As he got closer, I stared at him with increasing incredulity and frantically gathered Indi's leash shorter, before he finally stopped some 2-3 metres away and said, "would you mind if I take a photo of your dog?" Or words to that effect. I barely managed to reply "she's not friendly" before Indi exploded into a volley of barks, bared teeth and tried to lunge forward with the force that drags me off my feet if I'm not braced and ready. She made her unfriendliness very obvious indeed and the guy retreated. I don't think we've seen him since ...Describing this now, everything sounds a bit more sinister than it felt at the time.

Not to forget the very skinny dude who, a couple of times during the hot summer afternoons, would ride his electric scooter through the park, clad in full a motorcycle style leather jacket and black helmet. I have no idea what was going on there. 

Then there was the guy dressed in fishing-type gear who, along with his mate, also in fishing gear, walked across the bridge and into a nearby thicket. They sat there, side by side, on some rocks inside the thicket and analysed their fishing gear for a while. Then one chap exited and while he waited impatiently for his friend, he decided to have a bellowing conversation with me across the grass to the playground. About Indi. Him: "Nice dog, good breed." Me: "she's not friendly." Him: "you feed him red meat every for 3 months, you watch him go." Me: "yeah." Me: Turns firmly to talk to LittleOne and end this strange conversation, thanks.

I guess I should also mention the stuff dumped and littered in the gazebo during the summer. An odd collection of bills, warranties for an iron and a playstation, a novel, kids' school photos among other things. The best I can think is that someone stole a box of stuff out of someone's garage and went to the park and pawed through the box and left everything there. It stayed there for 4-5 days before everything was cleaned up. Creepy. Oh, and the four bras dumped in the grass near the car park. Yes, really. Depressingly creepy.

I might just stop with the weirds there, lest it seem that this park is only ever frequented by super-psycho-weirdos. 

Let me also emphasise that we have encountered many normal, nice families walking, and whose kids play at the park. But yes, it must be admitted, the weirdos seem to have that extra level of weird. But they're in the minority. Honest.

We have, for example, met Ted the milk-coloured Labrador dog who is very friendly and who came over to eagerly smell the leftover crisps flavours on LittleOne's hands. His brother, the chocolate-coloured Lab, is not as friendly so we haven't met him. Ted's dad goes to the playgrounds and takes them off the leash and throws a tennis ball for them to take turns chasing. If we have Indi with us, then Ted and his family go somewhere else to do their tennis ball chasing. Ted's mum has been expecting their first baby, and we were pleased to see them all out walking recently with a pram - which means that baby has arrived safely! 

We also once crossed paths with a big dude in a high-vis orange shirt. He was talking on a mobile and he had a tiny pug-like dog ambling off-leash behind him. He saw us veer off the path (my normal practice when walking with Indi to prevent her snarling and lunging at other dogs - I think I've mentioned Indi isn't friendly to strangers, haven't I?). He picked up his dog with a nod to me and then stood in the middle of the path, looked up at the sky and continued his phone conversation. I didn't understand why he was standing there in particular until then next day when I looked up at the trees he'd been looking at. Then I saw that one of the possum houses high in the trees was covered in bees! A couple of days later, a second possum house appeared lower in the tree. A couple of days after that, it looked like the bees were expanding to the second possum house. And a couple of days after that, both houses - and the bees - were gone. I hope they managed to handle the situation without needing to kill the bees.

See? Not just weird moments. Well, unless you're a bee in that last ethnographic snapshot, I suppose.

Then, there's the graffiti in the playground, which we saw on our first visit to the area, which is surprisingly ... touching.

See what I mean? Heart-felt. 

Not what comes to mind for your average playground graffiti.

Then there's this one, at the edge of the creek footbridge. "We are never alone." It sums up the vibe, really.

Thoughtful. Mostly.

And btw, yes, the title of this post was inspired by Neil Gaiman's book, The Ocean at the End of the Lane. Thank you Mr Gaiman 🙏 But maybe I should have gone with The Case of the Creepy Creek. Or Wending the Weird by the Weir. 

Nah. The Creek at the End of the Road is fine. Mostly.

Du fond du coeur x