It was a long day on Friday. Didn’t have enough energy or enough daylight to write.
When we arrived at Port August we made contact with the Perth bus. I was texting Tonja from Perth back and forth until we established Brisbane would meet Perth at the West Road Block on Old Whyalla Road.
Upon arrival and after a warm welcome, a meeting circle was formed and we decided we’d wait until the Melbourne and Sydney crews arrived before deciding where to camp.
So instead we marched down to the gate to Baxter IDC. Police everywhere. Rather odd. If they knew me they’d have a huge laugh at the fact that I’m such a lack of threat.
It’s a long walk to the front gate, so once we were home we were all pretty stuffed. Waited an hour or so for the Vic and NSW folk to bus it in. Once they were here, another meeting was called with the leaders from the local indigenous community. They did a welcoming to camp.
We set up camp – a long, laborious process. Chilled out a bit for dinner then a whole bunch of epople went back down to the gates. I didn’t go as I was too tired. A glorious full moon rose over a barren hill lighting up the campsite.
Sleep was interupted by helicopters, but came and lasted all night until dawn.
Stayed down at the IDC for most of the day today. A big group of protesters met police at the official boundaries of the centre. Police horses, star force (riot) police and uninformed police clashed with protesters at the point of ‘trespass’.
Among those arrested were 3 Brisbane folk: two women and one man (whose arm was broken during arrest).
That evening we walked back down to the IDC where I was part of a candlelit vigil with soulful, meditative singing. A hundred odd police guarded the prison during the night, shining their spotlights down upon as as we walked about.
It’s very strange feeling as though you’re doing something wrong when you know you’re doing something very, very right.
View my Baxter photos