Home is Where the Hartmann Is

By

 

 

It is August, 2021 and I am embarking on the first of a series of field trips to Hartmann Park, located in the small township of Crows Nest, Queensland. I descend into the rugged bush with awkward, jarring steps, down a steep bitumen incline, my left hand gripping the metal railing and my right, clutching the strap of my bulky, grey messenger bag.


I am struck by the memory of a fictional book I read in Grade 8 English class, Tomorrow, when the war began (1993). This book is part of a series that tells the story of seven youths who embark on a camping trip in remote bush, referred to by town locals as 'Hell'. The group return to find Australia at war (Marsden 1993). In that moment, I realise that Hartmann Park reminds me of the 'Hell' Marsden describes in the Tomorrow series (1993–1999). I enjoyed these books immensely as a teen, perhaps owing to the subconscious tie I bound them to Hartmann Park with.


As I continue trekking into the bowels of the Earth, I stroll further down Memory Lane...before high school and its accompanying complexities. The nostalgic memories of my pre-tween childhood bring a smile to my face in the now. My maternal grandparents lived in Crows Nest, and I visited them almost every weekend as a child. I spent much of that time exploring this beautiful slice of paradise. It was a source of sanctity and solace to me in my younger days; one of the few places I felt truly free.

 

*


Hartmann Park is a nature reserve that was donated to the Toowoomba Regional Council (TRC) in the 1970s by a man named, Hubert Hartmann (TRC 2021). Its cliff-lined valley is filled with picturesque walking tracks, a running creek, and a plethora of native animals and plants. The flora is diverse, but Australian icons such as: golden wattle bushes, gum trees, and red ironbark trees feature most often. Noteworthy fauna consists of laughing kookaburras, blue-faced honeyeaters, and willie wagtails, to name just a few.


Additionally, Hartmann Park is a rich source of Indigenous history. Several caves are decorated with Aboriginal art, depicting stories of the First Australians whom the rock walls once sheltered. As a child, I traced my fingers around white painted handprints and spirals, counted dots, and marvelled at the history that was literally at my fingertips. Though it pains me to say, I no longer possess the spritely agility, nor the muscle strength required to climb the cliff faces and explore these caves today.

 

*

 

I settle on a flat, grey rock in the middle of the creek, easily accessible by walking across a few smaller rocks of a similar hue. I inhale the eucalypt-scented air and the human world soon fades away. Birdsong serenades me as the brown-tinged water of the creek gurgles and babbles below. A koala (Phascolarctos cinereus) permeates the air with his low, guttural pleas for a mate. I cast my eyes to the treetops in search of grey tufted fur, but he eludes my sight. I abandon my quest and allow the serenity to engulf me. We are but grains in the sands of nature’s hourglass and, consumed with surviving, we too often forget to live.


I reflect on my history and the comfort nature provided throughout my humanly despair. A city-inflicted amnesia blanketed those memories, lulling them into a dormant sleep. But the twinkle in my eye soon returns in the simplicity of watching a nearby chunk of sandstone glitter in the sunlight; the giggle of my inner child echoes through the valley, in time with the distinctive laugh of the kookaburras.


How did I forget this?  I ask myself.


It becomes clear that my Hartmann Park memories—the spectre of a wild little girl scaling the cliffs, tiny fingers finding purchase in the edges of rough red and black surfaces, grazed knees slick with mud and moss—were unwittingly packed up and filed in the backrooms of my mind. In their place came the creature comforts of air conditioning, hot coffee, and technological screens.

 

*

 

I moved from Toowoomba, to Crows Nest in February of 2014, when I was 24 years old and three months pregnant with my daughter. At that point, I was still lugging metaphorical suitcases of unresolved trauma and, after a heated argument with my partner, I fled on foot from our new home mere days after we moved in. I neither knew, nor cared where I went, needing only to get out of those walls. My feet subconsciously carried me into the depths of Hartmann Park and only then did they stop; only then did the voice in my head stop screaming, run!


I fell to my knees and tilted my head skyward. Enormous grey boulders surrounded me, their deep horizontal gouges appearing to smile down from precariously perched elderly faces. Feelings of safety washed the adrenaline from my veins, as a flood of dopamine chased the fear away.


Several hours later, I returned home to make peace with my husband. I left nature’s embrace as promptly as I'd returned...but my awakening had begun. The cabinet locks rattled and buried memories clawed for freedom. Nevertheless, another seven years passed uneventfully. The locks stilled and suppressed memories slipped back into their slumber, patiently awaiting their saviour; it was not yet their time.

 

*

           

Others write poetically of nature drawing them back, but the truth is it is us all along. Our memories, experiences, hopes, and dreams conspiring to bring us home. Mine inevitably succeeded in April of 2021, when I took my four children on the 'Applegum' walk. This trail connects Hartmann Park to Bullocky’s Rest, another iconic park in Crows Nest (O’Brien 2020). Thick scrub and deep green ferns lined the sides of the rock-bordered path. Sporadic blackened trees served as stark reminders of the devastating 2019 bushfires that ripped through the area (ABC News 2019). We came to a pile of medium-sized boulders, and my youngest son scaled them, squatting on the topmost, moss-covered rock like a frog. I had never seen more of myself in my offspring. It was a special experience to share that sacred part of my life with my children; finally…after living a literal stone’s throw away for most of their lives.


Returning with my children was the last piece of the puzzle. My flimsy mental lock was no longer a match for the brute force of Nostalgia and Peace, who came armed with grinders and welding masks. It was time for me to come home, back to where it all began.

 

*

 

The brain mists amnesia upon the neurological gardens we fail to fertilise and nurture. It faithfully preserves them while life distracts us with bright city lights, rumbling highways, and expensive appliances. We put down our spades, rakes, and hiking poles in favour of the latest smartphone, gaming console, or flat-screen television. Our skinned knees and blistered fingertips heal, and the joy that came with them is forgotten.


Perhaps the only thing worse than our healing, freeing, and ecstatic moments in nature becoming memories is not experiencing them at all. We must pass the seed to our children while it still lives. It is undeniable that technology and infrastructure are consuming society whole and, if given the chance, they will consume what remains of nature too.


It is not yet too late. Wake up; come home. And bring your children with you. 💮    

 




 

References

ABC News 2019, ‘Queensland bushfire emergency ramps up in Crows Nest, authorities fear five homes lost in Pechey blaze’, ABC News, 18 November, viewed 6 October 2021,   <https://www.abc.net.au/news/2019-11-18/queensland-fires-will-not-go-out-commissioner-says-esk-pechey/11712420>.

Marsden, J 1993, Tomorrow, when the war began, Pan Macmillan, Australia.

Marsden, J 1993–1999, Tomorrow series, Pan Macmillan, Australia.

O’Brien, P 2020, Applegum and Hartmann Park walks, Crows Nest District Tourist and   Progress Association, Crows Nest, Queensland, viewed 21 August 2021, <https://www.crowsnest.info/natural-attractions/drives/537-applegum-and-hartmann-park-walks>.

Toowoomba Regional Council 2021, Crows Nest – Hartmann Park, Toowoomba Region,             Toowoomba, Queensland, viewed 2 August 2021, <https://www.tr.qld.gov.au/facilities-recreation/parks-gardens/parks-by-location/crows-nest-hartmann-park>.



Originally published in: 

Greenfield, C 2022, Earthworks: writing about nature, vol. 4, pp. 27-29, eds. N Sulway & T East, University of Southern Queensland, Toowoomba.  

 

 


 google.com, pub-5896944412523933, DIRECT, f08c47fec0942fa0                     

                       


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