As the sun slowly lowers itself in a sheen of orange, the scene at the inlet is other-worldly in its peace and natural beauty.
The quiet waters of the inlet move insistently to shore, blown reluctantly into waves and ruffled like crocheted lacework, to hit with a slap and splash – over and over.
Bonsai-like paperbark trees emerge curiously from rocky ground to stand disorientated, like drunks caught in the headlights, unsteady and contorted into strangely whimsical sculptures.
Birdsong pervades the twilight air, from sweet chirping tweets to the cheeky chattering of the honeyeaters, who flit like arrows on GPS from tree to tree. Long-legged herons beat their way steadily across leaden skies, like heat-seeking missiles fixed on their final destination.
The ocean roars and thunders in the background like an orchestra below the stage, a cacophony of salt and wave…sand and shore – in a playlist stuck on ‘repeat’.
Ghostly reflections of paperbark trees haunt the edges of the inlet, while curious kangaroos pause, pricking their ears to listen. All will soon be still and silent, when the inky blackness of night arrives.