Wednesday, June 26, 2013

Beacon.

Where I'm from, we have a lighthouse that is a pretty central feature of the town. Built in 190, it sits above the town on the headland, shining it's light across the bay and the hinterland. The light spins methodically, flashing across the town every 15 seconds. It's mesmerising to sit and watch it wash for kilometres and kilometres out to sea and along the coast. Apparently, the light has a range of 50 kilometres! It's also the most powerful light in Australia. The clean blue and white colours are striking, especially when the sky is as clear blue as it was this morning.

When you drive into town from the north, it's the first thing you see of the town. The highway is a bit different now, but when I was a child, you would come over this one hill and the you would see the lighthouse and the town and the ocean in front of you. My family made a sport of being the first one the yell, 'I can see the lighthouse!' when we drove back from Brisbane or the Gold Coast. I still think 'I can see the lighthouse!' whenever I make that trip, which is often.

I can always see it from the places that I surf - in fact, you can see it from almost every single break in the area. You would think I'd get bored of staring at it, but despite it's constancy, it always looks different, depending on your perspective and the weather. 

I know the lighthouse is redundant these days - ships don't really need lighthouses to keep them safe as they navigate the sea - but I love that it still lights up the night. It's incredibly romantic. I find it comforting and familiar, and I can't imagine home without it. 


Sunday, June 09, 2013

Sea glass

I do love a sunny day in the water; when the sky and sea are cobalt, turquoise and clear. But sometimes I think I like being in the sea best when the sky is grey and rainy.


Yesterday afternoon I surfed with Izzy at a favourite break. There was only one other person out, so although the waves were tiny and slow, it didn't really matter. Out to sea, the clouds were pale grey and we could see a squall pouring rain down just south of the rocks out in the bay. When I looked back to land, the clouds were dark, which made the water glow that soft green, like sea glass. It was beautiful. As we chatted between waves the rain kept falling, splashing the surface and dripping down our faces, collecting the salt in the corners of our mouths.

By all standards, it was far from a good surf, but it was so quiet and easy and pretty that I left feeling much calmer than I had when I arrived.

I don't think I'll ever get used to how beautiful the changing colours of the sea are.