by Robin Taubenfeld
A year has passed since the accident.
My friend has convinced me to tackle the fateful road again. I am worried. The last – and only – time I drove it, I braked on a curve, spun out the tires, lost control of the car and after spinning around on the road just barely missed crashing into a fallen gum tree. I nearly killed us all. My 9 year old daughter was in the back, as were my friend’s 7 year old son and her partner. She was in the front with me and yet she proposed travelling the road again; we had never made it to Stanage Bay and while our original purpose had passed, the goal was still there and unachieved: to see the land the military had begun using for military training, to explore the pristine coastline used for amphibious landing practice, to document the militarised country… A trip to the beach. A contested space.
Continue reading “Returning to Stanage”