Lost in the Woods

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The mist hangs low over the primordial rainforests of Melbourne, eucalyptus trees tower above, their pale trunks create a ghostly visage, everything is silent, the plants sway silently in the wind. The quite is broken by the sonorous tapping of heavy wood on concrete, and a slow measured tramp of soft leather on hard ground. Heavy green robes rustles with the trees and he emerges, his white hair blends with the tree trunks his robes with the canopy, his finger glitter with silver and gold, only his eyepatch stands out from the forest.

I drove into the Dandenong ranges on a slow day in March, the suburbs climb into the little temperate rainforest, that sits almost untouched barely 20 minutes from the centre of Melbourne. The roads are too narrow for two cars to pass and I have to pull into driveways several times to let aggravated locals past, who glare at you for daring to trespass on their little streets.

The mountains are crossed with a small highway, and the neat suburban paths run to tidy suburban streets full of tight European houses, nestled amongst colossal primordial forest. In some the houses sit in isolation, surrounded by conifers and pines, next to cricket pitches, in others the houses sit under hanging gums and vast leafed ferns.

I drove down the highways and byways a dozen times over the last year, occasionally hiking along the short well maintained paths. But that day I took another turn, down a tiny lane, hardly wide enough for my little car.

The path wound up and down and through the thick jungle. The woods became denser and the kurrawongs screamed ominously as I passed. Stopping occasionally to take photo's I climbed the dirt path, that seemed to grow narrower every second.

And on I drove, and on, and on, 'time to turn around I thought'. I looked hopelessly around, but there hadn't been a spot to turn since I'd gotten on the path. I kept driving as the woods grew darker and the sky began to light it's fire.

The path split in to, and I sobbed. 'I'm going to die here' I thought.

So I did all I could do, I kept driving further, and further into this wood. I knew there were suburbs, I knew I was still in a city and that I just needed to push on, I knew I was still in the 21st century, in a modern country, I knew I hadn't disappeared into some fantastical and inescapable quagmire.

The phrase 'never to be seen or heard from again' ran through my mind several times.

And then I saw it, a road, I rushed out onto it, stopping at the concrete to admire civilisation, I had made it, in my steel car, with my phone, and shoes, I had made it. Maybe I was being a tad hyperbolic.

tap tap tap

I looked up

tap tap tap

And rubbed my eyes

tap tap

I sat and watched as a man in bright green robes and a staff walked past my car. My eyes follow him as he walks with disturbing ease and grace. He must be nearly 90. He turns slightly, his eyepatch gazes into my car and his eye searches my face, briefly, and then he was gone.

The rustle of his robes left in my mind, and a faint desire to pinch my self. I grapple briefly with the idea of seeing if I now have magical abilities.

As I drive I peer out of my windscreen, till I see another car, the person is wearing a neat suit bobbing their head to the music. I pass more people. No wizards. Part of me wonders if it was a dream.

That was my first experience with Baba Desi, the Wizard of the Dandenong's

📷Baba Desi, Photo courtesy of Edward Foo