Autumn. A blanket of fog hangs low over Bogong Village. I look up from my book. The Kiewa Story. Kiewa. Sweet Water. First valued by the Aboriginal community who gave the region its name. Visitors drank from the East and West Kiewa rivers while feasting on Bogong moths, a local seasonal delicacy.
“A wanderer could contemplate a sea extending seemingly to infinity to the north, and to the east as far as Mount Kosciusko. The mountains and ridges resembled a school of enormous whales rising out of the sea…
“The rise and fall of the fog lent life and movement to the landscape. The rounded backs of the mountains glittering in the sun were the wet backs of the emerging whales and the numerous rills and gullies were the rivulets of shedded water on their flanks.” (Napier&Easdown, 1993)
How might I translate these words into sound in order to enliven the murmurs and whispers of the past into the present. The babbling of the water that flows under the footbridge into Lake Guy might provide an interesting backdrop. A reconnoiter with Madelynne Cornish to various sites this afternoon will test the waters so to speak. I will report back in my third blog. Stay tuned.