Alone in Lincoln

 

I had not been back to Port Lincoln on my own as an adult since I lived there as a child. I have been back with my wife and children, my brother, and on several work trips – but never alone. And I discovered that when you return alone to a place where you have an intense personal connection the experience is much more personal. You’re not trying to filter out the inconsequential memories for the sake of the company you’re with; not trying to stop deep reservoirs of emotion welling up from within. You can explore without fear of embarrassment all the silly memories that occur as you retrace your footsteps from long ago; follow the random threads of memory as they pop up – triggered by turning a corner, standing on a wharf or jetty, or seeing something you had long forgotten. So, driving and roaming the streets of Lincoln this time around was an unexpectedly strong emotional experience.

I re-enacted the walk we used to take to school every day. It took me 13 minutes at adult dawdling speed to get from our old home to the school gate so one can assume that it took at least 15 minutes each way. And halfway along the route is a major intersection with a busy highway and no traffic lights or pedestrian crossing. No doubt it is busier these days but it would still have required a level of trust from our parents to allow me and my young brother (aged 5 and 7) to negotiate that intersection twice a day.

Port Lincoln is such a lovely place. A huge sheltered harbour, a calm safe beach in the centre of town, a delightful main street, a large functioning port with big ships that is accessible to the public, stunning coastal landscapes within an hour’s drive, and a marina chock full of yachts and a large fishing fleet. I will be eternally grateful to my parents for moving there and offering me 5 years of childhood freedom. I think my young brother and I got the best of this move to the country. We were both still in primary school and simply relished the joy of riding our bikes around town, going fishing on the town jetty, and playing in the scrub on vacant lots near where we lived. Or we could play football or cricket in our own vast backyard which we converted into mini cricket or football fields depending on the season. My older siblings had other things on their mind – the pressures of high school and the dating game. I got the best of both worlds: a child’s paradise for my primary school years and back to the city for a better education and immersion in a more expansive cultural landscape for my teen years.

After 50 plus years I still feel a sense of great joy and calm every time I go back to Lincoln. I fill with the glow of happy memories and a sense of belonging. It still feels like my place.