Walking the Boundaries
Martin lives in the city with his mum. He's come to walk the boundaries of the farm that's been in his family for generations. It sounds easy, especially as he'll own the land when he gets back. Martin's great-grandfather, Ted, doesn't even want him to walk around the farm's fences, just up the gorge and along the hills. But up in the gorge Martin meets Meg from almost a century ago and Wullamudulla from thousands of years in the past. Despite their differences they discover that they're all on the same journey ... and that walking the boundaries means more than following lines on a map.
Some notes on the book
I think Walking the Boundaries is one of the books closest to my heart. The boundaries in the books are very much the boundaries of our farm, along with some of the nature reserve above us and Wullamudulla's language is that of the local tribe, as far as I have been able to reconstruct it - the last tribal member died in 1892 and is buried just below our boundary.
It took me a long time to research, as the language is no longer spoken, and I had to go back to diaries and letters written last century. I wanted to use the language that was spoken here, not another that was recorded in some other place ... but it was very difficult to find some of the words I wanted to use.
I'm not sure where the idea of the book came from – I was walking up the gorge one day (in a sarong and bare feet) and suddenly thought: I could be walking up here 1,000 years ago ... or 1,000 years in the future and it would be much the same. And if anyone from the past or future saw me down here, it would be hard for them to tell what era I came from too – and suddenly the story arrived without my thinking about it, almost as though the gorge was whispering it.
Walking the Boundaries is different from my other books – the story almost seemed to write itself and only a few words were changed after the first draft – usually most of my books are reworked much more than that.
Dracula, of course, is based on the wombats around the house here – and most of the other elements in the story, like the history of Meg's family and Ted's house (which isn't ours) are based on things around here too.
When the the editor who worked on the book came down to our place for the first time, her husband was astounded how she knew the way and recognised exactly where she was - but as she said, she knew the valley from reading the book.
There are now several 'outdoor' courses based on Walking the Boundaries – all based on the one developed at Birrigai Outdoor Centre in the ACT. The kids follow the paths of Martin and Meg and Wullamudulla over two days (or three in one course) – and they really do get to eat spotted dick and possum. The Wilderness School in Adelaide runs one of them.
The wombat in residence while I was writing Walking the Boundaries was Rikki the Wrestler – very obstreperous and loved to leap out and bite your knee caps or bowl you over – then he'd leap back and wait for you to pounce on him. The present wombat is Pudge – very dainty and cuddly – she'll delicately scratch on the door rather than try to gnaw through it. (We had to reinforce all the doors for Rikki – and even then he ate through two layers of reinforcing.) Luckily the rest of the house is made of stone.
Walking the Boundaries was shortlisted for the 1994 Royal Blind Society Award, shortlisted 1994 Human Rights Award, shortlisted 1994 WA Children's Book of the Year, Cool Awards, CBC Notable Book, a few others I can't remember.
This is the book I knew I'd write, even when I was five years old. It is about the first few years of white settlement in Australia.
Even at five I knew that many of the stories about that time we were taught at school just weren't quite true. (I kept putting my hand up and saying 'But THAT'S not true Miss.' Must have been hell to teach).
Why was I so sure? Well, my mum was an historian who read me the diaries of the people who were there ... and they gave a very different picture than the one in the history books.
So here is the story of an English chimney sweep, who becomes a convict ... and a pioneer.