My first real day at Slabs is a quiet one – Netflix gets another little session, as does some reading and cooking during the daylight hours.
I do a little exploring – there are all sorts of abodes here – ranging from the silver foxes in their modern luxury RVs who have stopped by for a few nights, to permanent dwellings made out of pretty much anything – old train carriages, buses, broken down RVs. The permanent citizens have really taken steps towards permanence – fences, signs, and antennas abound, but not in the orderly way we are used to.
There is a basic grid structure with dirt roads, but everything else is eclectic and colourful. The people make interesting viewing – there’s all manner of atttire, from robes to gowns, with lots of people bearing staffs. A number of pleasant greetings are made, but I don’t have any long conversations – It seems a place to leave people to themselves in a way.
Unfortunately my pics from the day have disappeared, in some ways I’m not too displeased – this place was meant to be a haven from the rest of the world, but it’s attracting more and more tourist traffic these days,so perhaps an inability to further publicise it isn’t a bad thing.
It’s tonight that things liven up – Fridays at Slabs is open mike night at The Range.
I make my way over there about dusk, where fires are already starting in the rubbish bins, the bar and stage lights are on and people are milling about
I find a seat on a couch towards the back, grab my drink and settle in for the entertainment.
Before long, our hosts are on stage for the opening set, a mix of songs I know and some I don’t. By the time they are finished, the place is packed, fires are roaring, joints are being passed around in every direction, and the first of the performers jump on stage. They are limited to 3 songs each, (it used to be four), but nearly all of them are locals well known to each other, rather than randoms jumping up on stage.
The vibe is friendly – I’m offered a toke or two, and chat with a few folk, but again this seems more like the local get together where everyone is catching up on news and gossip from the week. I don’t quite fit in, but I’m not made to feel unwelcome in anyway – there’s just a little distance between the locals and blowins like me.
Various people pass through the seat next to me – the only other outsider is a girl called Siri. She’s cycling from Long Beach, CA to Austin, TX. Today, on the way out to slabs, she had been pushing her bike through gravel for about 5 miles when one of the locals stumbled across her and gave her a lift into slabs.
Discussing travel plans we find that we are headed in roughly the same direction, and want to see a couple of the same things, so we exchange numbers in case our paths cross again.
Siri and John leave soon after that – having lost her tent on the way into slabs, John had offered Siri a place to stay for the night.
I survive another couple of hours in the cold, nestled under my doona, happily listening to songs, chatting away and just chillin’ until chillin’ becomes coldin’ and it’s time to head to the the warmth of Charlotte’s embrace.
The Range was fun – I can only imagine what it’s like in the summer when the population of Slabs multiplies thee or four fold.
