BARRETT’S PRIVATEERS by WEDDINGS, PARTIES, ANYTHING. Story by Laura Sheridan.

Tawonga Gap, Victoria,  April 2025

Anxiety gripped me. It wove its way around my heart, laced through my stomach and intestines, crawled up through my cerebral cortex and squeezed. To my left towered slabs of gneissic rock, grey, blue and cream. Above me a cutting through towering gums to a clear autumn sky. Below me an undulating path of dark asphalt grey, and on my right, sheer oblivion. While the beauty was breathtaking, it was terror that took my breath away.

During Covid I developed crippling anxieties. Heights, freeways, mountains, rocks, oceans and rivers. Now, five years later, on a bright autumn day, I hugged the rugged wall of Tawonga Gap in my beloved Hyundai i30 facing my fears alone.

The road spilled out before me, the way forward hidden between twists and turns. I cleaved to the rock walls, wary of the crumbling gutter to my left and the perilous abyss to my right. The cavernous drop drew me like a siren’s call, an unrelenting pull towards destruction that needled my awareness. Terrified, I glued my eyes on the road ahead, gripped the wheel until my knuckles turned white, stopped my ears against the sound, and like Odyseus’ crew, sailed on.

***

Stay conscious.

The words echoed in my ears.

I had sought advice for my anxieties and the response was, ‘be aware’. Open yourself to the experience. So, heart in mouth, hands an iron grip, I pressed my foot to the accelerator and willed my car to greater and greater speeds.

I fumbled for the radio and it sputtered to life.

‘Alpine Radio, so what is your inland sea shanty?’

It was country radio and the theme of the day was the shanty. Oft the dominion of the sea, the DJ was asking for an inland version. What would land-locked Alpine Shire choose as its shanty?

For a moment, my concentration shifted from road to radio as I contemplated the task. Irish fiddle? The Mist Covered Mountain. No, surely Appalachian and Whitetop Mountain. Old Timey and Cold Frosty Morning maybe?

I was lost in thought when suddenly, a car was behind me. It loomed in my rear-vision mirror, gradually filing the frame as it closed in. Pressed tight against my tail, it swung left and right, pressuring me to speeds beyond my limits. My breath caught in my throat as I careened around corners terrified at each turn. Beads of sweat broke on my brow. A loud rev assaulted my ears, I inched to the left,and slowed to a crawl as the car leapt out from behind me. I held my breath, made myself small and it accelerated past on my right. I had survived. I inhaled sharply, slammed off the radio and turned my attention back to the road.

***

Stay conscious. Be aware.

I rolled the advice around my mind.

I steadied my breath, slowed my heart beat, like a seal diving to the depths. I lifted my eyes from the gutter to the trees and drew in the vision around me. The scenery was exquisite. Tall saplings sprang up through the rock, shadows played through the leafy canopy. The sky above was cerulean blue and the colours popped against it. Carefully I lowered my eyes toward the abyss, and my gaze was filled with green. Mountain ash, acacia and she-oaks crowned the land, a bed of colour and activity.

The majesty of the bush filled me with awe and slowly but surely I began to be present. With each new outlook my heart rose. Adrenaline switched from fear to excitement, each terrifying turn a new vista to look forward to. The abyss became a sea of green, the road a rocky shore.

I opened my heart.

***

With a rising confidence, eyes on the road, one hand on the wheel, I reached across to the passenger seat, and flipped open the CD case. I slid a CD off the stack, and pushed it into the player.

Be present. Be aware.

The CD player whirred, and paused. The track clicked forward. I drank in the rocks, trees and sky around me and waited. Then, a single mellifluous voice sailed out, strong and certain, brave and sure. It beseeched me to remember Sherbrooke, that fantastical forest of my childhood. It spoke of firing no guns, shedding no tears. It dreamed of gold, and I grinned. With Alpine Radio’s challenge in my mind, the inland version of the sea shanty poured through my speakers as Weddings Parties Anything’s Barrett’s Privateers filled the air.

With music in my ears, and the veil of fear lifted from my eyes, the light of Tawonga Gap poured in. I relaxed into my seat, and with the sound of harmonies weaving around me, I sailed around the corners, tacked and jibed down the hills, crested the peaks and commandeered the troughs. I found ‘the groove,’ and followed the lines.

Confident, aware, present, and conscious, I steered my ship to the sounds of Barrett’s Privateers. No longer anxious, no longer afraid, Weddings, Parties, Anything’s inland shanty shored me up and guided me safely home.

Stereo Story 873

Barrett’s Privateers was first released in 1976 by its Canadian songwriter Stan Rogers (1949-1983).