the weekend that was

After a week of anxiously refreshing Live Traffic, checking rain forecasts, and staring at road cameras, on Thursday night the road to the coast reopened just in time for me to load my bags in the back of a friend’s car, gratefully accept the coffee she’d picked up on the way, and point ourselves down the mountain.

No, it’s not the return of quilt camp. (One day soon, though, I hope; it’s one of my goals for 2025 to see those very dear faces again). This trip was one planned in late December, for our group of school friends; the last time we’d had a weekend together was in 2012 to celebrate everyone turning 30. At the time, we said we should do it more often, and then somehow, twelve years passed and we hadn’t done it; only catching up at Christmas, weddings, and more recently, a funeral. At the wake, phones came out, dates were locked in, and despite a cyclone’s best efforts to stop us, we made it to the long overdue catch up.

It was a fun trip over, a couple of stops for baby cuddles, and lunch, and a wee poke around the shops in Bellingen – I wanted to show my driving friend the cool toys, and may have neglected to mention the fabulous yarn and craft supplies half of the shop. I ended up with just a small haul – mohair yarn, short circular needles, and some dyes to make up some custom fibre to spin as the weather cools down. Mid afternoon we made it to the coast, and the weekend was officially open for business.

For the most part, I swapped the cocktails everyone else was nursing for the knitting needles, working on a sock that’s been on my trolley since before Christmas. In between the knitting there was board games, snacksies and cider, plenty of chats, party pies topped with lollies, walks, delightful drinks in beautiful bars, baby cuddles, late nights, coffees overlooking the beach, photo album flip throughs, remember when’s, what ever happen tos. It was a weekend of healing the soul; the last time we were together we were shrouded in black with heavy hearts. The time before that, our final goodbyes, a day of mixed emotions. This weekend though, we could just be, remembering our mate with joy, missing her, but also looking forward. Finding our feet as a group without her. It was just what we needed.

Then all too quickly, we were loading up the car again, and heading back up the mountain after a beach side brekkie. We managed a quicker trip with only a couple of stops this time; one for fuel and mangoes at the foot of the mountain, one to feed the baby and look at the waterfalls at the top. Aside from the windy bits, I knitted most of the way as we chatted. It actually surprised me how much I got done; having started the weekend at row 16 of the toes, I finished the final row of the cuff as we pulled up next to my car waiting in town, and cast off last night. A whole sock in 36 hours? That’s a record for me!

Two nights, six women, one baby, thirty five years of friendship since we first met in kindergarten at the local primary school – one fabulous weekend of memory making and soul soothing. Thanks for the laughs, friends, let’s not leave it twelve years again.