We faced the cannibal corpse and survived. I didn’t even know there was a demon spirit living in the belly of Black Mountain before I suggested that our family go to a 3 day festival at its base. Only on our return with all our limbs in tact did I learn that the Mountain is shrouded in ancient Aboriginal flesh eating myth. The mountain itself is a tumbled mass of granite boulders 300 meters high. Nothing but a few thousand giant pythons survive there. There seems to be a lot of missing person stories surrounding the mountain and the Aboriginals in the area won’t go near the place. Jacob had noticed that he was one of the only non-white people at the festival, all the locals know to stay away.
But before all that…We drove through the dust for 4 hours to get to the mass of brooding black. We picked up our tickets at the Lions Den Hotel, an old eclectic pub built in 1875. We stopped for a beer under the mango trees and recovered ourselves from the long drive. Jake was still nervous about the whole thing, he’d never heard of any of the acts from the festival and for all he knew we could be entering a Black Magic Festival where the Hillbilly Goats were performing satanic rituals rather than strumming the saw.
Families and friends were buzzing setting up, getting comfy for a relaxed 3 days of music, dancing and drinking. There didn’t seem to be any white hoods or burning effigy’s , not from the direction our camp was facing anyway. There was one stage, a few little market stalls with vintage clothes, a coffee stall somewhere to get some food and of course that chai tent that farts patchouli and travels further than a Cessna Caravan.
The harp played over breakfast softly waking the beating heads around us, the banjos and bass continued through morning tea and old Bony Jack played his mother in laws rib cage till sundown. He rattled those bones with unrivalled speed. There was a drag race with ‘Bearded Bill’ and a pregnant smoking ‘Dragon’ which would have scared all the snakes away. I got my face painted by an angel in the night. Bodhi made friends with the West Wind that kissed him open mouthed. The Church of goat on Sunday had people stripped to their underpants and hailing all their sins. We left just before the pulpit de-robed.