If I were to pinpoint a single point of reference in my life, it would have to be discovering the joy of photography. With all the travel I do, sometimes to the same places several times a month, life would have been tedious. But my thinking has changed. My assumption, there will be something beautiful to photograph, quickens my heart beat, no matter how busy I am. This thought alone, lightens the load.
I’ve been to Carnarvon in the Midwest, our Coral Coast, several times. It is a small coastal town, about 900 kms north of Perth with a population of under 5000 people. The flight is on a twin propeller plane. Slow and noisy. Known for the seafood, especially prawns, fruit (mango, watermelon, rockmelon) and vegetables (tomatoes are delicious), the area feeds the city and beyond. There’s not much to do here. Blink and you’ve missed the main street, but being strategically placed between sea and river, the business of produce thrives.
I’ve arrived here on a Sunday on more than one occasion. Not the best day in a town that is quiet during the week. At 4.30 pm there were no cafes open and I was hungry, my only meal of the day being breakfast, now long lost to memory. The supermarket would have to do I thought. I walked past a group of young backpackers standing and talking just inside the store. If I closed my eyes and listened, I would have been in France. The incongruity of being in Carnarvon on a Sunday afternoon listening to French being spoken as it should, made my eyes shine with the delight of it all. The group were hanging around for closing time when food is marked down, and perhaps ready to pack up and head further north. Once closing was announced, they shopped like professionals, knowing just what and how much they needed. I was impressed with the ingenuity of twenty somethings. A life skill learned from life.
My routine here usually runs the same. Apart from work, at dusk and sunrise I head to Small Boat Harbour just behind my hotel.
There’s nothing like a sunset across the water here. I caught a brief glimpse, just a memory of what I know to be here.The colours then muted down as it darkened.Then there was night sky.As the light faded I found a wader perched on a rock, like me, watching the schools of fish, some that jump out of the water with a splash. River mullet, I’m told. I’ve seen them dance upright across the surface of the water, flapping madly.The fish were too quick and perhaps, the school too big, so the wader had to be content among the molluscs. It was as still and silent, as me.One last pic before nightfall, and I’m happy, satiated even, with the few moments I had with my camera.
See! Life can be this simple! If we only let it be.
Until next time
a dawn bird