THE RECORD

October 18, 1995

BACK TO THE EGG

Suzanne Trevis

Rain, it's amazing. For the most part these days it's extremely inconvenient, especially when trying to get two children from A to B in reasonably dry clothing, to say nothing of packing a baby around in some of the weather we've been having. It's all you can do to stay comfortable just getting from house to car. Thank God I don't have to walk!

When I watch my kids going from the car park to the post office, finding every leaky gutter (and we know there are a few!!) so they can walk under them (there's just not enough water falling out of the sky) and every puddle to stomp in, ('cause then they can splash each other), I remember that there used to be a "good" side to rain, other than not having to move the sprinkler 'round and 'round my garden.

I grew up at the end of the Old Trailer Park. The far side of our lot edged a ditch and when the rains came, and they always did, water would rush along the ditch, disappear (sometimes) into the culvert under the road, then reappear moments later to join the creek that came by the corner of the property. I can't remember how many times I saw my mother out in her raincoat and wellies, unblocking the "tunnel". Sticks and leaves would clog up the entrance and water would back up all over the road, our yard etc. etc. And, I guess I'm old enough now to admit that sometimes it wasn't an accident, it just looked so neat watching all that water dam up.

The best part, though, was the creek itself. Across the logging road, long before Heber Heights came into existence, there used to be a huge, fairly flat area between the hill and the road that would fill up at certain times 'till it was about three feet deep. This "reservoir" emptied into a culvert that ran under the logging road, about the middle of the trailer court, then wound it's way through the bush till it reached the corner across from my house. From there it cut a fairly straight path in the general direction of the gravel pit, until it met up with Minnow Creek (I don't know if this creek has a real name, it eventually comes out at the Rod & Gun Club, a story in itself).

Anyway, at the height of the rain season when Gold River's biggest puddle made it's appearance, we'd build rafts out of just about anything we could find and float around pretending God knows what. I think we probably spent more time wading alongside, trying to get rafts to float if the truth be known, but the idea was a good one. Sooner or later the water level would drop enough for rafts to be impractical (it usually only lasted a few weeks) then we'd be back to the creek, which, all told, was more fun anyway.

You know what it's like at the beach. You start out with a sand castle, then you get the moat dug around it, then because the buckets of water just get sucked up by the sand you have to dig a big ditch toward the incoming tide to try and coax the water along. Before you know it there are culverts all over the place and you are trying to divert as much water as possible so that the castle doesn't get swamped. It always does anyway 'cause its the beach, right?

Imagine how much fun it would be if you had total control of the water. There must have been some recessive engineering gene in all of us that led us on in our hydrological pursuit.

We would build dams across half the creek and divert water through the bush into a secondary ditch, making islands of various sizes, some even had their own trees! We'd build a series of different dams; boards and rocks, twigs with mud and leaves, tires, you name it, up and down the "river", then wait to see how long it took each one to come apart, and how much chaos was created.

We'd race "boats" along the course until they disappeared into the pipe under the Rod & Gun road. There were a number of trails zigzagging around and sometimes we'd see if we could jump our bikes across the creek. We'd try to dream up inventive reasons for having boots full of water, which I'm sure never fooled anyone anyway. But it was so much fun. All that dirt and water.

Hhhmmmmm. Dinner's not for another hour, I think, maybe, I'll put on my boots and go see what the kids are up to.