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Tess Evans

Goodreads Author

Born

Melbourne, Australia

Website

http://www.tessevansauthor.com/

Member Since

January 2015

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I was raised in the Melbourne suburb of Clifton Hill and now live among the trees in Eltham. I am married with three grown children and four grandchildren. I love to travel, my most intense experiences being walking the Inca Trail and riding a camel in the Sahara desert.

Something about my working life. (I don't holiday all the time)

I worked in schools, full-time at first, and then as an emergency teacher when my children were small. When they started school, I moved to TAFE were I began as a teacher, then manager of programs for long-term unemployed. This was a very satisfying part of my life – we did some great work in those programs. When the funding was withdrawn, I worked in the money-making area – a challenge, but not as rewarding pe ...more

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Who is your favorite fictional couple, and why?

Tess Evans This is not an easy question. On the whole I tend not to have favourite anythings. It that makes me look weak and indecisive, so be it. I'll discount …moreThis is not an easy question. On the whole I tend not to have favourite anythings. It that makes me look weak and indecisive, so be it. I'll discount Elizabeth and Darcy and Romeo and Juliet as too obvious and tell you about a fictional couple that intrigued and interested me. I am referring to Kent Haruf's Addie Moore and Louis Waters in his last novel 'Our Souls at Night'. These lovers are in their seventies and their story is tender, moving and achingly real. If their story lacks the bright turmoil of passion, it offers its own truth about the joy and pain of love.
May your Valentine's Day be filled with roses or at teh very least, someone to help with the dishes.(less)

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Tess, did you write about your journey on the Inca Trail? and the rest of the journey? Would love to read about the things you experienced. Elaine

Tess Evans Hello Elaine

Thank you for your question. it brought it all back. I only wrote one piece about the Inca Trail It seemed to include all that I needed to…moreHello Elaine

Thank you for your question. it brought it all back. I only wrote one piece about the Inca Trail It seemed to include all that I needed to say. Here it is.

I spent fewer than eight hours in Henry’s company, but his story, offered with so much generosity, will continue influence my travels for many years to come.
Henry had the broad, smiling face typical of his country-men, and addressed us, quite naturally, as ‘my friends.’ He was polite and softly spoken, proud of his country and ever mindful of the power of its landscape. We gathered around him, shuffling impatiently in expensive walking shoes; digital cameras ready to strike at the slightest provocation. Ignoring our impatience, he settled down on a nearby rock to tell his tale.
‘My friends,’ he said. ‘I wish now to tell you a story. I am telling you this story so that you do not merely walk upon these mountains; that you do not merely look at them; I wish you to experience them in all their sacred mystery.
‘You are all on vacation and you are anxious to begin your walk and photograph our beautiful Andes. But please take time to listen to me. My story is simple, my friends, and will not take long.
When I was a young boy, I would often visit my grandfather, who had a small farm that he worked every day, starting as the stars were extinguished one by one, and finishing when the last rays of the sun faded in the sky. Sometimes I would stay at his house and assist him in his labours. He was probably only about fifty years of age, but the years of toil had bent his back and lined his face so he looked many years older.
He was not a man for idle conversation, so it was some years before I had the courage to ask him the question that had been puzzling me. You see, my friends, I had noticed that every single day, he would stop work as the sun rose, and sit, like this, on the same rock, for five, ten minutes. He did not move or speak; he just sat, with his hands between his knees, looking at the mountains.
‘Grandfather,’ I asked one day, as we worked side by side with our hoes. ‘Why do you sit so still on that rock every morning?’
“I will tell you,” he said. “Because it is a lesson I learnt from my father and he from his father. Your father now lives in the town and works in the store, so he cannot do what I do. So I will share my story with you, because you are my grandson. When I sit on that rock, Henry, I am on vacation. It is my holiday; my holy day. I sit on my rock and look at the mountains and feel the touch of the Pacha Mama renew my spirit. I have worked every day of my life; I have never left this valley – but every day, I have a little space for a vacation.”
We were all silent as Henry looked up at us and beyond us to the mountains. ‘I tell you this story, my friends, to equip you for your journey. Photographs will remind you of what you see with your eyes, but only mindfulness will enable you to absorb its essence. Do not make your journey a race. The winner of the race will see nothing but the ground in front of him.’
The next day, the group started the trek at the 82 Km mark and two very fit young men were soon out of sight. For the first couple of hours, the slopes are quite gentle, and the path underfoot relatively smooth. This gave us the opportunity to look and marvel and feel a bit smug about the speed with which we were moving. As time passed, however, the track became steeper and more hazardous and we found ourselves looking only at our feet, as is so often the case when walking in rugged terrain.
It was then that a small group of us decided that we would stop periodically, not just to rest, but to experience an ‘Henry moment’ So after sipping some water and finding a rock to rest on, we would sit and silently honour the landscape. We looked at the farthest peaks and the smallest wildflowers. We looked with awe and some trepidation at the distant Dead Woman’s Pass which we had to cross on the second day. We looked at the trail we had already covered, snaking far below us; and we looked at the ruins of fortresses built by the once proud Incas. On the first magical morning, we stepped out of our tents to breathe the thin, frosty air and saw that we were in a charmed circle of towering, snow-capped peaks. Close to the tent, quietly nibbling the grass, were several llamas with gentle, patient eyes and proud, graceful necks. On the third day, we walked on Inca stones through the astounding beauty of the Cloud Forest and stopped to marvel at each new wildflower on the way.
The final morning we ascended the steep path to the Sun Gate and looked into the valley where Machu Picchu lay hidden in impenetrable mist. The sun rose, and suddenly, the mist was gone. It was as though the hand of God had reached down and lifted a veil, revealing Machu Picchu, still a couple of hours walk away, but real and solid in the morning sun.
I didn’t win the race to the Sun Gate. Each day, our little group would be last to enter the camp, but that was not only because we found the going hard. (although it was very, very hard). It was also because, as Henry advised, we took the time not just to look, but to see.
Yes, I have some beautiful photographs, but not so many. When I look at them, they serve to kindle a far richer store of memory and experience that was Henry’s gift to us. Thanks to him, I have learnt to travel mindfully, and will continue to share his gift with any traveller who takes the time to listen.

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Tess Evans’s books

Average rating: 3.83 · 1,593 ratings · 236 reviews · 7 distinct works • Similar authors

	Book of Lost Threads 3.79 avg rating — 796 ratings — published 2010 — 8 editions	Error rating book. Refresh and try again. Rate this book Clear rating 1 of 5 stars 2 of 5 stars 3 of 5 stars 4 of 5 stars 5 of 5 stars
	Mercy Street 4.04 avg rating — 508 ratings — published 2015 — 3 editions	Error rating book. Refresh and try again. Rate this book Clear rating 1 of 5 stars 2 of 5 stars 3 of 5 stars 4 of 5 stars 5 of 5 stars
	The Memory Tree 3.56 avg rating — 141 ratings — published 2012 — 3 editions	Error rating book. Refresh and try again. Rate this book Clear rating 1 of 5 stars 2 of 5 stars 3 of 5 stars 4 of 5 stars 5 of 5 stars
	The Ballad of Banjo Crossing 3.49 avg rating — 135 ratings — published 2011 — 6 editions	Error rating book. Refresh and try again. Rate this book Clear rating 1 of 5 stars 2 of 5 stars 3 of 5 stars 4 of 5 stars 5 of 5 stars
	[Untitled] by Les Zigomanis (Editor), Ryan O'Neill (Goodreads Author) (Contributor), George Ivanoff (Goodreads Author) (Contributor) 4.33 avg rating — 6 ratings — published 2009	Error rating book. Refresh and try again. Rate this book Clear rating 1 of 5 stars 2 of 5 stars 3 of 5 stars 4 of 5 stars 5 of 5 stars
	[untitled], Issue 6 by Les Zigomanis (Editor), Blaise van Hecke (Publisher), Busybird Publishing (Publisher) 4.25 avg rating — 4 ratings — published 2014	Error rating book. Refresh and try again. Rate this book Clear rating 1 of 5 stars 2 of 5 stars 3 of 5 stars 4 of 5 stars 5 of 5 stars
	[untitled], Issue 4 by Les Zigomanis (Editor), Danny Rider (Goodreads Author) (Contributor), Rijn Collins (Contributor) 4.67 avg rating — 3 ratings — published 2011	Error rating book. Refresh and try again. Rate this book Clear rating 1 of 5 stars 2 of 5 stars 3 of 5 stars 4 of 5 stars 5 of 5 stars

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Tess Evans's Blog

Meditation in a time of crisis

I am so sorry I have neglected my blog for so long. It's in times like these that we have to stop and think of what is important. The news out there sounds like the beginning of a Dystopian novel but what happens next is up to us. I'd like to share with you something sent to me by a good friend.

And the people stayed home and read books and listened and rested and exercised and made art, tended th Read more of this blog post »

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Published on March 28, 2020 20:11

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Quotes by Tess Evans (?)

“Later, in one of the few times he attended church as an adult, he discovered that it was about much more than a piece of fruit. Knowledge of evil is contaminating, and in this new manifestation, it makes him pull back from her hug. ‘Poppy?’ Small eddies of anxiety ripple over her face. ‘Poppy. Richie Dog and me have made you breakfast . . .’ Her voice trails off, uncertain. With some effort, George rallies. ‘How’s that for luck? I’m hungry as a lion.’ He waggles a finger at Richie. ‘I hope you aren’t giving me dog biscuits for breakfast, young pup.’ Rory giggles. It’s a sign she feels safe, that she hasn’t done anything wrong after all. ‘You’re so funny, Poppy.’ In the kitchen, George spoons up the cornflakes from their inundation of milk and yums at his undercooked toast. ‘I didn’t make the tea,’ she says. ‘Richie and me are a bit young for boiling water.’ She’s so serious, so anxious to be responsible. George grins. ‘Very wise. I’ll make the tea and you can have a cup, just for making such a nice breakfast.’ He pours her a milky tea and stirs in two teaspoons of sugar. Rory’s eyes gleam. This is an unexpected treat. ‘What about Richie? He helped, too.’ ‘I might share my toast with him,’ George says, tearing off a substantial chunk. He chuckles to himself as the dog wolfs down his portion. Talk about killing two birds with one stone. ‘Best breakfast I’ve had in years,’ he says, swigging the last of”
― Tess Evans, Mercy Street

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“are you?’ She snuggles up to him. ‘I only get cross when you do something naughty. But I love you just the same.’ She’s too young for irony but George has to grin. How many times has he said that to her? Even though they have reached the highway, the kilometres no longer slip by. It’s like driving through sludge. Too tired (and not confident enough) to pass, George sits behind a truck and is overtaken”
― Tess Evans, Mercy Street

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“his special gift from his lost princess”
― Tess Evans, Mercy Street

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