Hovea

It was an obliteration of the old, the grounds remained but history faltered, dissipating into the ash of burnt down trees. The time that was taken out of a single person’s day was merely used to take in the sights of the tall jarrah trees and the fields of bush that stretched to the horizon. If this were my story, I’d be talking about poetry and the craft of expressing such beauty but this isn’t my story, it’s about a girl who followed her soul to a place among history and the way her emotions and her life was expressed was through this story. A wonderfully bittersweet yet tragic tale of love.

Hope was a young 17-year old that found peace in the trees. The particles of the blooming daisy’s filled her lungs, the fragrance of the gumtrees comforting her in a world she had entered unknowingly and lost she would find herself soon enough.

She dragged her feet along a trail that seemed it would never end. The warmth of the morning sun bounced off her tender skin and she found comfort in the wind. The national park in the hills of East Perth held time in its heart. The time spanning from the very beginning of the earliest existence but the early 1800s held a special place among the boundless jarrah and marri trees. The events that took place were magic to witnessing eyes, eyes that were sadly locked away in one’s finer memories until she was ready to answer the plead and set them free.

A vast range of vegetation surrounded her, consuming her small body in a vast area of sheer nature. The orange gravel track stretched beyond her vision, often leading off onto new paths, smaller ones. She had pulled away from humanity, giving in to the adventure. She was alone in a place she had never been to before, or so she thought. Something felt strangely familiar to her but she dismissed her thoughts with good intentions.

The John Forrest National Park was where hikers and often bird watchers came for an adventure. To explore the valleys and foothills while enjoying the fresh air that the city would bow down and beg sincerely for. It was wonderfully extreme and Hope often wondered the benefits of high skyscrapers in a world so exhausted. She hadn’t experienced the kind of nature that gifted you the sights, smells and the beauty, she believed the one random tree on the side of a road -on a street full of buildings- was enough. She was wrong.

Her exact place in the universe in this moment would be like heaven for someone who couldn’t breathe at all.

The first sign of human life emerged from an entrance into two tall parallel walls of granite rock. Something within the girl spiked. She felt the urge to rush forward and let the granite wall protect her from predators. Although she didn’t have to worry about much in the Australian bush, except of course snakes but she had more common sense than most. She leapt forward onto the new path on her right, she knew it was a bad idea but curiosity had suddenly overcome her. She wandered through the canal of granite rock, regret flailing, eagerness subsiding. She hadn’t a clue where she was going, much less how far.

Through the crooked walls, she gazed up through the ceiling. The sky was painted perfectly blue in the distance, like a flawless blue river flowing effortlessly. The gravel trail guided her for another fifty feet before it slowly bent into a curve. As she rounded the corner, beauty hit her harder than a train.

The stone obtained a perfectly smooth archway, the red-coated numbers on the side of the mantle established how long the place had been there for. Hope stopped to admire the history it beheld, the birth of the solitary train tunnel beneath the Earth that was once a hill.

It brought life to a place so confined to its own park. History which wrote itself and pursued many possibilities for this place that captured and took many lives. However, remaining with the essence of the nearby town Hovea, the spot had welcomed millions of personalities throughout the years and many to come. The exhausted souls that constructed such needed recognition, much more recognition than possible.

The eager men that plunged at the stone with their pickaxes, splintering their filthy hands and drawing blood. The sweat that cascaded down their bodies erupted into the depths of the tunnel, the foul aroma lingering. Old and new blood stains plastered their bodies along with two inches of dirt. Bulging rocks fell from the high ceiling landing five feet away from the nearest boy, the youngest, twelve years old, innocence drowning in his eyes of a million railway planks. Dynamite was tucked into tiny nooks of the granite and when the explosion went off everyone would duck for cover begging that they didn’t die that day.

The light from the end of the tunnel illuminated the puddles that crept in through the archway. Rain gifted the terrains and brought frustration to the young workers. Their white grubby singlets and dusty brown shorts glowing in each of their headlamps. Fifty or so of the boys hacked away at the granite wall ten feet between each other, constructing another small archway in the wall, a crevice to slip into if a train rolled through unexpectedly and it did often.

Many didn’t survive while in the tunnel, some unable to quickly duck into an archway. The rails would rumble fiercely, their time running out, a place to hide quickly becoming impossible as the headlights on the steam train charged through the gallery of pure darkness. It was cramped in there, many bolted for the exit but none escaping in time.

Hope peered through the curved archway, it was solid black and the round glow from the exit lingered on the backdrop. The light from the entrance cascaded down the two walls ten feet in and then nothing, black nothingness.

The tunnel was among the first constructed by a group of sustenance workers, it was a rough estimate of two-hundred and sixty metres in length.

Hope picked up her feet, stepping over boulders and dodging puddles. She placed her soft fingertips on the rough granite wall, trailing it over every little crater and bump. She could hear the rocks crunch beneath her own feet and the further she trailed in the colder it got. She felt something watching her like she was standing in a room full of angsty people waiting for their morning coffee and although it should’ve bothered her, she couldn’t care less.

As the light from the end of the tunnel grew brighter, Hope wondered about the steam trains and when they had taken the tracks out. What good came out of preserving a historical place without keeping the original materials but then she remembered the boys in her town, destruction was on their daily agenda.

The young girl emerged from the darkness following the same trail. It didn’t lead quite as long and soon she had found her way back to the original trail. She crept up to the edge, peering over the steep cliff that fell to the pit of dead branches and large boulders of rocks. She backed up, continuing deeper into the national park. The cliff stretched around in an enormous semi-circle, large enough to be a deep lake or a full dam ready to burst and destroy hundreds of houses on the other side of the valley.

Hope ventured further into the middle of nowhere, her thoughts taking over. Only the sun and a trail to follow.

Hope’s parents were full-time workers, a nurse and a lawyer. They were always busy dealing with their work so she barely saw them. Hope had trouble making friends, she was intelligent but she thought more than she should, she was different from the rest, she spoke with sincerity and passion when others didn’t. She hadn’t a clue what she wanted to do once she was eighteen and that scared her.

Fifteen minutes went by in a flurry, she heard the rushing water from the left, the massive semi-circle shaped into a large canal and instead of water trees made up the scenery. The trees cracked and whistled in the wind, creating a perfect harmony. The water was coming from somewhere below at the base of the river bed of thousands of trees. The small river rushing through the channel effortlessly.

Hope gazed over the edge as she shuffled along the head of the cliff, she was curious to see the river that held water in summer. By now, she could see the splendid flow of water cascading down a solid granite waterfall. She continued through the overgrown bushes and shuffled over the small wooden bridge that led to the waterfall. Water rushed beneath it, fighting its way to the slippery edge. She stepped off the boards onto the hard surface, finding footing on the solid granite rock, exposing its smooth surface.

The crinkles and splashes that were heard from above brought peace to her soul and comforted her mind. She climbed on a nearby rock to rest, gazing around at the beauty that surrounded her, letting nature give her the opportunity to take in the sweet fragrances. She breathed in deeply, filling her lungs with the scent of the fresh eucalyptus leaves and the thousands of flooded gum trees. She watched as a herd of kangaroos grazed somewhere in the distance, soaking up the sun while it lasts. A large flock of birds conducted a symphony amongst the tree. She was one with nature with no people around, just her, the trees, the wildlife and the sweet marvellous air.

If only she knew what she was in store for. She might have turned on her heels right that second, but she was oblivious.