Childhood Sanctuary.

When I was in primary school my father would drive with me and 2 or 3 siblings to Cottage Point, on the way we would call into his friend’s house to pick up the tinny on it’s trailer. The car was laden with supplies for 4 or 5 days, we would lug everything down to the wharf and fill the small boat: then it was just us kids with Dad at the helm. The trip down Coal & Candle creek seemed to go forever, tracking up the deep blue waters, leaving civilization behind and finally arriving at our treasured getaway, the old house in Smith’s Creek.

The rules were that we must leave all our technology behind, no watches, clocks or transistor radios. I loved the feeling of freedom, timelessness, and the serenity. Today we call it a technology detox.

There was no power, “we” (Dad) built a fire to boil the kettle, cook dinner, warm water for a quick wash – ‘top and tail’, Mum said that would be fine for a few days. When the wood ran out it was bush walk time and we kids would run around collecting branches and twigs to make the firewood stack huge again.

The house in Smith’s Creek was called TRANQUILLO.

There was a simple rock wall at the waters edge, made with some cement and local rocks and a wire fishnet stretched from the end of the jetty to the shore making a small swimming pool. There was a short steel post cemented on the end, it was our wharf as well. Years later I found out that the pool was actually an aboriginal fish trap. We would jump in and around, just like the fish, swimming either side of the fence.

My brother would row us girls out deep in the tinny and we’d try and catch fish, ‘cause Dad said we might run out of food so we better catch some fish for dinner. I remember how patient we all were, doing our duty, filling a bucket with Bream, Leatherjacket, (‘be careful of the dangerous spike’) and squid. We had small prawns for bait, they were very smelly but that was good, the fish loved them. We were pretty skillful with our hand lines for a bunch of suburban kids in the bush. I still love fishing from a boat.

At sunset, Dad would make himself a drink of scotch whiskey and fill an old vegemite jar with his homemade salmon pink cocktail sauce. Sitting on the rocks at the waters edge with Dad, he would collect oysters straight from the rocks with his special knife, dipping them into the delicious sauce and feeding us like baby birds. I didn’t want to look at the oyster, or touch it, but I would eat them, I just hoped that one day I would like them, Dad said them were so yum, but I just liked the salty flavour and the cocktail sauce, one swallow and it was gone!

We would sleep, all us kids, on mattresses on the floor of the open verandahs with candles to keep us company until we fell into the deepest slumber, finally oblivious to the wild animals all around. The kitchen had to be possum proofed but the carpet snakes still got in sometimes. We knew that Dad would keep us safe, funny that now I can’t even remember where he slept. Those holidays hold precious memories of a time when we slept in time with the sun, were free to roam, and row, and fish and go on swimming adventures like wilderness explorers.

I still seek out that Tranquillo Place in my life. The house is now gone, when the Kuring-gai National Park was declared all dwellings were demolished, such a shame – the ruins are still there and my memories.

These days I feel tranquil when:

• on the deck at home looking out to the horizon
• floating behind the breakers in the warm sun
• gazing across the vastness from a lookout
• mesmorized by underwater currents swishing seaweed beds when I’m snorkeling
• slipping onto fresh linen in my comfy bed
• listening to the kookaburra laughing towards dawn even before there is the first light

When and where do you find a tranquillo place? I’d love to hear from you – have you a peaceful childhood memory to share, or a recent tranquillo experience? Add your comment below.

Credits: Lucy Macnaught who took the 2 recent photographs from a boat in Smith’s Creek.
The 3 old photos in this post were collated from our old family albums. Thanks sis :)​

By Jane Macnaught

Jane Macnaught

E: counsellor@tranquilloplace.com  M: +61 425 152 490

Tranquillo Place

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