Category Archives: Sydney Postcards

The Walk, Sydney.

Last Thursday, I ran away. Absconded.

Well, to be precise, I walked. However, “walking” doesn’t sound as good.  It doesn’t conjure up that same sense of theatre. Lacks drama. Walking also sounds, dare I say, rather “pedestrian”.

After going down to Sydney for a doctor’s appointment, I decided to pop into the Koi Dessert Bar in Chippendale. Koi was roughly “on the way home”, even if it was in the diametrically opposed direction. Koi is co-owned by Reynold, the Dessert King of Masterchef 2015. So, I was more than willing for my sweet tooth to lead me astray. Mum was taking care of the home front. So, I was a free agent. Cinderella dancing away at the ball with no thoughts about midnight.

DSC_5493

After catching the train from St Leonards to Central, I was walking to Broadway via the Devonshire Street Tunnel. This long pedestrian tunnel houses buskers, the homeless, beggars, along with a vendor selling The Big Issue. The tunnel itself has been there since 1906, but the characters keep changing. Today, I was mesmerized as the notes of a saxophone rose above scuffling feet into some kind of heaven. At least, heaven in a dingy tunnel. I didn’t feel like dancing, but I certainly felt my spirit soar.  It felt like the scene out of a movie. Indeed, I made my own so stay tuned.

I walked on, emerging into daylight and city streets.

 

My destination was only a few streets away. I was heading to the Koi Dessert Bar in Kensington Street, Chippendale. This is not any ordinary restaurant or cafe. Rather, it is home to Reynold, the Dessert king of Masterchef 2015. Moreover, so many of the current Masterchef contestants end up doing work experience at Koi, after they’ve left the show. I was hoping to experience a touch of Masterchef. I’d met Reynold on my last visit to Koi and enjoyed watching their open kitchen at work and was hoping to see someone and talk Masterchef.

Above: I met Reynold and watched him and the team in action at Koi last year.

However, neither Reynold nor any familiar faces were there. So, I didn’t feel I could gush like a Masterchef tragic.

DSC_5480

Dessert Heaven at Koi.

Rather, I had to choose my dessert…not an inconsiderable process. With so much yum on display, it creates that impossible choice. You know they’re all sensational, and it’s just a matter of personal taste. I chose the Nomtella…a dome with Espresso mousse covered in chocolate, and a mousy salted caramel centre nesting on a chocolate brownie base. I loved it, but found that half was enough. My sweet tooth hasn’t been quite so sweet lately and I blame the increased exercise for that. I bought an Orange Creme Caramel and a citrus dessert to take home and they were much more to my palate, which surprised me. They were truly sensational.

After leaving Koi, I ended up walking up Cooper Street into Surry Hills. I explored a few alleyways, chasing images of autumn leaves back-dropped against a deep, blue sky. I was swept off my feet by a special kind of Autumn magic, which was a world away from to do lists, action plans and responsibility. I still haven’t forgotten what it was like to wander the world as a backpacker, but now I have the love and security of home and my family to go home to. I only seek temporary escape. Not a one-way journey.

I don’t know what it is that keeps drawing me back to Surry Hills.

My Dad’s side of the family, Irish immigrants from County Cork mostly following the Irish Famine, settled in Paddington and Surry Hills and the family stove making business was at 90 Fitzroy Street for many years. However, that was long before my time and even my father’s. Yet, the stories were passed down. Indeed, there’s a photo of my grandfather and his Dad standing by their truck, which gives me that sense of belonging…origins. That at least a part of me, harks back Surry Hills, back when it was a surrogate Ireland and not the rough slum that it became.

JCurtin

The J Curtin Truck with my Great Grandfather and Grandfather.

Moreover, although I’ve never lived in Surry Hills, I did live in neighboring Chippendale for a number of years. Lived in a range of terraces, and even a converted warehouse a life time ago.

Surry Hills is an eclectic, constantly changing place, and you never know quite what you’ll find or what to expect. There was a little cafe I’d found, which made the most scrumptious Coconut Chai Lattes, but it closed about 2 years ago. Gone, but not forgotten. On Thursday, I went to see what I knew as the art dungeon in Campbell Street, but it now sells shampoo and looks so sanitized. It’s such a travesty…a sell out. A place with so much character, gone.

Surry Hills is expensive real estate, and yet it retains its sense of grunge. Crumbling, run-down terrace houses can still be found, along with signs of Struggle Street. I can’t account for that. After all, I’m only passing through. Picking out bits and pieces through the lens, and immortalising what I’ve seen today on my hard drive. My perspectives or interpretations of an ephemeral, kaleidoscope world.That’s without even delving into its characters. I merely chat to a few people in shops, not knowing whether they’re local or not. Then, I go home.

DSC_5595

I was starting to fade.

Walking along Crown heading towards Oxford Street, was a long walk and I was starting to look out for passing buses….a magic carpet to carry me home. Or, at least, back to Central Station. My legs can struggle to keep up with all I see and it’s easy to conk out half way.

 

Yet, I kept walking until I finally staggered into Museum Station and caught the train to Central. I walked over to Country trains and slumped in my seat. Unlike most of the daily commuters, Too excited to sleep and pulled out the mag I’d bought in Surry Hills:

I was heading home.

 

Before we leave Surry Hills, I thought you might like to join me on some of my previous visits:

Window Shopping, Surry Hills.

Surry Hills to Gore Hill, Sydney/

Surry Hills…A Sense of Place.

Have you been on any epic urban walks that you’d like to share?

xx Rowena

 

 

Mothers’ Day Cloud Hunt.

Nothing like a Sunday afternoon stroll along the beach to clear the cobwebs and psyche you up for another week…even if it is Mothers’ Day and you’re supposed to be immersed in your family.

After lunch and then watching the hit movie Lion with my son, I noticed some striking clouds and nabbed my camera and headed off to the beach, which is two blocks from our place.

Clouds Ettalong Beach

Clouds at Ettalong Beach, NSW.

Although I’m not quite a woman obsessed as I drive down to the beach, almost absorbing the clouds as I check out each and every curve, the lighting and am thrilled at the brooding darkness…even though I’ve been stuck photographing dangerous storms in the past.

DSC_5369

Ettalong Beach, NSW looking towards Broken Bay and Palm Beach.

Yet, it’s all too easy just to duck down to the beach and once again, I didn’t check the weather report before I took off. Five minutes. Surely, hail doesn’t strike the same place twice????

This time I was lucky. Not judicious, only lucky.

At the same time, I really enjoyed a quick walk along the beach and feeling myself become one with the landscape, inhaling and exhaling the sea.

How did you celebrate Mothers’ Day? I’d love hear what you’ve been up to.

xx Rowena

Weekend Coffee Share – 30th April, 2017.

Welcome to Another Weekend Coffee Share!

To be quite honest with you, I don;t quite know where I am this weekend. For the last month, I’ve been Travelling Alphabetically Around Tasmania for the Blogging A-Z April Challenge. Yet, last week, I was back and forth to the lower Blue Mountains West of Sydney and exploring historic Richmond and Windsor both through the lens and through my heart.

DSC_4873

 

Just to add to my geographical confusion, the weather’s been all over the shop. Being cooler up in the mountains, the leaves are changing and there’s Autumn colour. I even spotted an open fire. That spells Winter to me. There’s also been a few nights this week when I’ve added extra blankets and the electric blanket has moved up to medium. I shouldn’t be surprised as it’s almost May. However, when I left home in jacket today, it was put straight onto the back seat and I’m back to short sleeves.

DSC_4973

Toasty warm at Lochiel House, Kurrajong Heights.

What is the weather doing in your neck of the woods? No doubt, most of you are enjoying Spring after snowy Winter’s. We don’t have such marked seasons here, but I appreciate your excitement through our coffee shares.

By the way, would you like tea, coffee or something else? I’m rather brain dead tonight.

DSC_4622

The last week, has been quite challenging for me. Our daughter went away on a three day dance camp at Kurrajong in the Blue Mountains and it was my job to drive her there. It was about a 2.5 hour drive out there and I stayed overnight to get her there for the 8.00 AM registration. We aught up with an old school friend of mind and her family for dinner nearby the night before and the whole thing felt like a big adventure.

Driving back, I decided to visit historic Richmond and had lunch in Windsor and went on extensive walk around town checking out the old buildings.

Windsor is the third-oldest place of British settlement on the Australian continent. Settlement at the location was first established about 1791, near the head of navigation on the Hawkesbury River (known as Deerubbin in Dharuk) and taking advantage of the fertile river flats for agriculture. The area was originally called Green Hills, but renamed Windsor (after Windsor in England). The town was officially proclaimed in a Government and General Order issued from Government House, Sydney, dated 15 December 1810, Governor Lachlan Macquarie having “marked out the district of Green Hills”, which he “… called Windsor”, after Windsor-on-the-Thames.

Of course, given my serendipitous, unplanned approach to travel, I hadn’t done any preparation. In actual fact, that worked well for me this time because my meanderings gained a sense of spontaneous discovery and I really don’t like taking a shopping list approach to travel. I like to sens, feel, explore and not fly through a place so I can tick it off my list. Done Windsor!

So, I was quite thrilled when an innocuous road sign pointing to St Mathews Historic Church led me to the oldest Church in Australia by foundation stone. Not only was it historic, but it was incredibly photogenic from so many perspectives, including the clock, the Church itself and the old cemetery. The Church was design by famous convict architect, Francis Greenway. and you can read more about the history of the Church Here.

From there, I checked out the rectory nearby and then drove into town for lunch. It’s always a bit of an educated guess when it comes to choosing somewhere to eat when you’re travelling. I usually go on the cakes, which are usually on display and give some indication. I chose well and one of the other customers put me onto a spectacular building with a woman standing on the roof. So, this was my next adventure which took me past another old cemetery, which was located next door. I am still trying to work out what the building was built for, but it was possibly the mortuary or a hospital.

At this point, I first noticed the huge, towering white cumulus clouds, which were hovering very close to the ground. I made a mental note, that they could be trouble but they weren’t that menacing shade of angry purple, which has gotten me into trouble before. You see, I am quite a cloud chaser and my beloved camera has gotten me into serious trouble in the past.

Still, I walked.

That was until the wind picked up and Autumn leaves were twirling in the wind and the sky was purple and not longer threatening to rain. The raindrop were falling thick and fast and I was moving to the car fast.

DSC_4866

Once again, I’d left my run too late and as I driving down Windsor Road, 2.5 hours from home, the road became treacherous. Pelting rain, strong winds and lightening and the road was starting to get submerged. I aquaplaned a little and slowed down, even though I wanted to escape the storm like a bat out of hell.

While Billy Connolly might’ve called the storm an “act of God”, I must say that getting out of there without incident was more of an act of God. I was spared!

After all that drama, I had to drive back out there to pick her up on Friday and was much more cautious this time because I also had to drive straight home with very little chance of avoiding the Friday arvo peak hour.

Yet, I had an hour in between getting up there and the dance concert and I explored Kurrajong and was put onto a stunning restaurant called Lochiel House at Kurrajong Heights. I can’t believe that I had about 20 minutes to drink my tea and enjoy their beautiful lemon and pistachio cake, which came with a side serve of scrummy cream and obviously home made jam. As you can see from the photos, Lochiel House was very pretty and as much I love its historical elements, I equally appreciated the little floral arrangements carefully positioned throughout, creating an eye-catching vista. There was undoubtedly a lot of care and attention to detail throughout. Very impressed.

It was lovely to see my daughter dance and simply to see her again. Really missed her.

DSC_5444

Our Sailor.

 

However, life isn’t just about dance and today we were off to the local sailing club for the junior presentations. I feel we’re on the brink of a huge precipice of commitment there. Like dancing, what starts out as a few lessons, either progress into a monstrous commitment or it dies out. It looks like father and son will be driving around the countryside racing later in the year. I think this is where we’re thankful for the off season, even though I’m hoping they get out in our laser. There are no icebergs around here during Winter.

Tomorrow, is the start of another week and my daughter has three auditions for the performing arts selective classes at our local high school. Audition hell…and that’s just from my perspective.

I don’t even know what I’m doing.

Well, I hope you’ve enjoyed our coffee share. It’s getting very late here so I’m going to speed off.

Best wishes,

Rowena

 

 

Art: When the Creator Becomes the Created…

Last week at the Royal Sydney Easter Show, my daughter and I crossed to the dark side and had our caricatures done.

For anyone else, this would simply be  a bit of fun, a memory to take home and it wouldn’t also turn into a soul searching analysis of what it’s like to be created, not creating. Of course, yours truly had to analyze the whole experience. Pull it apart and put it back together again…give or take a missing piece or two.

Obviously, you’ve experienced my photography. However, you might not be aware that I did the photography and publicity for my kids’ school for 6 years and gained a lot of experience photographing people.  I know what it’s like to peer into a face, observing details, responding to a smile, a twinkle or even the withdrawal of acute shyness to draw someone out. I know how to work with all these personalities to create a story in 6 x 4 and hopefully bring out their best.

However, it’s a rare moment that I’m in front of the lens. Or, as in this instance, at the mercy of the cartoonist. Sure, he might use pen, ink and crayons but he has an inbuilt lens. You have to have a good eye. Be an excellent reader of people to pull off any kind of caricature. After all, you’re not just reflecting the surface, but peering deeply into the pond needing to fish out hidden gems in a very short time.  BTW, although I’m usually behind the lens, I’m actually quite an extrovert and all the world’s my stage. I have no trouble performing for the camera, or the artist.

Surprisingly, it was actually my daughter who mentioned getting our caricatures done. I wasn’t entirely convinced.

You see, I’d been forewarned. While I was backpacking through Europe as a 22 year old, I caught up with Mum and Dad in Paris and had my portrait done outside Notre Dame. Being a serious, philosophical poet, I insisted on a more serious, reflective portrait. I did NOT want to look like an airhead. Ever since, my mother, who was standing back watching the proceedings with abject horror, has wanted to get that portrait fixed to show “my lovely smile”. I didn’t know what she was talking about until a few years ago and now I agree. “Smile, Rowie. Look at the birdie!” On the same trip, two of my friends decided to get their caricatures done in the shadows of the Eiffel Tower. They were dreadful and I don’t think those sketches have even seen daylight. My two very attractive friends, had nearly been turned into trolls. Of course, I photographed their reactions in situ. What a friend?!

So, when it came to getting our caricatures done at the show, I wasn’t naive. The cartoonist was warned! Yet, I became so relaxed with him, that I forgot to take my glasses off until it was too late. That is very unusual. Indeed, I’d be surprised if any of you have actually seen photos of me wearing the glasses I wear all the time. The glasses which are all but glued to my nose. I’m terribly short sighted and now near-sighted, and am becoming somewhat thankful for the glasses I’ve always despised.

artist

That’s not to say I was entirely at ease in my new role. Not that I’m a control freak. However, I did feel more than just a little curious watching him sketch away, especially when passers-by stopped and inspected OUR portraits in detail when WE couldn’t see it. Well, as usual, I exaggerate a tad. We did get to see quite a lot of the work-in-progress and I know both my daughter and I were noting which pens he used for what. She has a good chance of doing the tools justice, while I dream. I do a much better job writing about drawing (and dancing, skiing, playing my violin and making Nigella’s Nutella Cake) than actually doing it. However, I am starting to wonder about this life as a voyeur…Isn’t life meant to be lived?

However, of course, you also learn a lot watching…including the remote possibility that I might be a control freak after all!

That’s why I wondered whether the artist would ruin it by adding colour and whether the finished product would self-destruct when it went through the laminator, even though it was meant “to protect it”.

However, the thing about control freaks is that we like control for a reason. That when we don’t have control, things can go wrong. Get destroyed. Just like our caricatures when that blasted laminating machine turned us into a piano accordion. Been there, done that myself at home. That’s why I wasn’t sure about the laminator. That’s why I become the control freak. Things conspire against me.

caricature finished with Graeme

Wow! We were so impressed with how we looked. If you’ve ever watched the quintessential Australian movie: “The Castle”, you’ll know this is “heading straight for the pool room.”

It was at this point, that being a creator myself made such a difference. As much as I was very disappointed to see our portraits seemingly destroyed when they looked SOOOO good, I knew what it meant for Graeme to watch as his creation almost met its death. From this point, we were no longer artist and client. We were united in our desperate efforts to salvage the artwork. Performing CPR, twice we fed it back through the very laminator which almost destroyed it, largely melting out the creases. He said it was his best work of the day and that he’d struck a chord with us. Got a vibe. I know what that’s like and what his creation meant to him. It was no longer just a piece of paper. He’d poured heart and soul into each and every detail and you look at our larger than life smiles, and a real sense of joie de vivre really springs from the page. To have that destroyed in front of your very eyes, was horrible. Sure, much worse things can happen, but it’s a hard thing for a creator to see their creation munched up like that. Yet, like the subject, the phoenix has largely risen from the ashes and is about to sojourn underneath  our exceptionally think Webster’s Dictionary, which is the width of two city phone books…HUGE and weighs a tonne!

By the way,I’d like to give a huge shout out to our cartoonist…Graeme Biddel at http://www.caricature.net.au

How have you felt being the subject, instead of the author? The creation instead of the creator? Or, perhaps your creation has been lost in some way? I’d love to hear from you. Please leave your thoughts in the comments.

Love & smiles,

Rowena

 

 

Happy New Year – Sydney

We would like to wish you and yours a Happy, Healthy and Wonder-Filled New Year.

kids-nye

The kids watching the fireworks on TV. 

We had an action-filled NYE at home watching the fireworks on TV and playing psychiatrist to Lady who was a quivering mess AFTER the fireworks had ended.

dsc_5559

Geoff comforting Lady.  Taken without flash. Didn’t want to freak her out any further!

Every year, the movie: Can’t Stop The Music plays after midnight and after watching it last year, I was back again tonight and I’m listening to YMCA.  That song  followed me through so many life changes. I remember dancing to YMCA at school and uni formals, numerous parties. After having kids, Geoff and I danced with the kids  to YMCA at the daycare family discos.  Now, here I am listening to YMCA  on NYE at home whole playing psychiatrist to a stressed out dog. The fire works terrify her and she trembles, dribbles and totally freaks out and that’s when she’s on our laps.   So, tonight I was doing the YMCA in my writing chair. No complaints though just great memories. That said, my 20 year old self is sneering at my current self asking: “Have we met?”

I am still working on my New Year’s resolutions but I’ve at least practiced my violin two nights in a row so that’s a good start.

How have you spent NYE? I’d love to see your posts so please leave links in the comments.

xx Rowena

Sailing With the Sea Plane.

Yesterday, we went sailing at Sydney’s Palm Beach with my Dad. For sailing affectionados, the yacht was a 34 ft Catalina. Given our close encounter with the sea plane, I should also clarify the yacht wasn’t a WWII aircraft.

More of a photographer than sailor, it was my job was to sit in my Princess seat, making sure I didn’t fall overboard. Same with the lad, except now that he has his level 2 sailing certificate, more was expected from him…especially knowing the difference between port and starboard,  stern and bow. Actually, even I know that.

You could say that the Catalina has a few bells and whistles. This includes an in-mast furled mainsail, which means you just need to use the winch to get the sail up and down. By the way, I’m merely ballast on these sailing trips, so that’s the full extent of my technical expertise.

Jon & Geoff sailing

Geoff and Mister finally out in the Laser. Sailing on a much different scale.

Yet, sailing on the Catalina is obviously much more luxurious than our humble Laser. At the same time, I miss being right on the water, though I love not having to keep a constant eye on the boom. Ouch!

Naturally, we’ve been out on the Catalina before. However, we’ll dubb yesterday’s sail: “Who Has Right of Way?”

Dad was letting the rest of us steer, which was great fun but we don’t know all the intricacies of sailing etiquette. This meant we were constantly checking …especially being the Christmas holiday break. There was a huge cacophony of craft on the water. A veritable fruit salad of yachts, water skiers, kayakers, paddle boarders, ferries and even the sea plane thrown in.However, being under sail and something about being under a starbord tack, the lot moved out of our way…even the ferry.

rowena-sailing

While I know I said I was ballast, I did have an extensive turn steering the yacht. That is, under my father’s much needed supervision. You could also say that I had considerable assistance from my husband and son. I have no sense of direction and could get lost in a paper bag.

Yet, since I can drive a car, you’d probably think steering the yacht would’ve been second nature…a proverbial piece of cake. However, steering a yacht is a very different kettle of fish (thought I’d sneak that one in too!). After all, the road has lanes, which prevent me from swerving all over the place. However, you obviously don’t go sailing in the local pool and there are no marked lanes. Moreover, there’s no auto-correct built into the steering either. So, every time I over-correct, I have to compensate.

It wasn’t pretty.

Indeed, no doubt to the trained observer, our meandering yacht appeared very confused. Indeed, perhaps the Water Police were all set to arrest the “drunken sailor”. Not that I’d had a drop. Indeed, I was stone sober.

That’s when my Dad kindly suggested:”maintaining some kind of course and not moving the steering wheel quite so much”!

dsc_5332

Our son having a contemplative moment inbetween giving his mother advice.

Meanwhile, my son wasn’t so kind and my husband “helped” whenever we passed another craft.

I didn’t mind. I have no ego and would rather bumble along having a go, than staying in my Princess seat being decorative. After all,when you carpe diem seize the day, you get used to wearing egg on your face. Moreover, you get less and less self-conscious when you step out of your box onto someone else’s turf and don’t need to get it right. Be perfection personified. You can just be your pure, unadulterated self in its shining glory.

other-yacht

As it’s hard to photograph yourself sailing, I photographed this passing yacht.

By the way, if you’re not into sailing, you might not fully appreciate its complexities. That there are actually many restraints and limitations you can’t appreciate from land. So, you’re not as free as a bird and sailing isn’t a surrealist dream.

Far from it.

Rather, all of your senses are constantly switched on looking out for other craft, reading the wind and maintaining an equally keen eye on what’s going on beneath the water. You’re especially needing to monitor the depth of the water and changing underwater landscapes. After all, while the dangers of crashing into another boat are more obvious, you don’t want your keel getting stuck…or worse. Fortunately, the yacht has sonar which provides a depth reading and underwater map, taking away much of the dodgy guess work. Yet, you still need to be alert and Captain the thing. Machines are simply there to assist, not take over.

Consequently, sailing is like watching that proverbial duck gliding along. Serene and peaceful from a distance, there’s a lot of work going on beneath the surface to keep the yacht moving, safe and on track.

seaplane-in-the-clouds

It’s not a bird or a giant Australian mosquito. It’s the Sea Plane. Photo c: Rowena Curtin.

However, all these safety concerns ramped up a notch, when I noticed the sea plane coming in to land. The sea plane flies from Rose Bay on Sydney Harbour to Palm Beach and is an incredible site to watch…theatre in motion.

I was tracking the sea plane through the lens, when it suddenly took a sharp turn and we were staring eye to eye. That’s right. The yacht was smack bang on the runway.

seaplane-landing

That’s when Geoff asked Dad who had right of way…the yacht or the plane?

If you don’t sail, you might not appreciate that sailing is like a game of chess. That determining who has right of way, is an intrinsic part of sailing and this fundamental rule can determine the safety of the players. One false move could prove deadly…especially when it means taking on the sea plane head on.

At this point, I didn’t care who had right of way. I was all for exit stage left. After all, as Geoff’s uncle, a returned serviceman, used to say: “Some rights are worth dying for. The right of way isn’t one of them!”

However, although it felt like the sea plane missed us by a whisker, there was never any doubt. The plane was in like Flynn.

Mind you, I felt sorry for the pilot trying to land in that dog’s breakfast, wondering how many of them actually looked up? Indeed, did they even know it was there?

Of course, this is where I came into my own. The rest of the world might have disappeared, but my zoom lens was fixated on that plane tracking its every move. Indeed, it was glued. The plane was zooming in closer and closer just about to land and my trigger finger was going ballistic.I was in photographic, wow! wow! heaven.

Just as well Geoff was steering! I was so single-focused that the lens could’ve smacked straight into the sea plane before I’d registered any form of contact.

What a day! Sailing, photography, scenery, sea air…

Oh happy days!

xx Rowena

Lugubrious Dark Gully, Sydney.

Yesterday, we levitated out of our post-Christmas slumber to go sailing with my Dad. His yacht is moored at a mysterious location known locally as: “Dark Gully”. Before you start thinking he’s a pirate or smuggler of sorts, Dark Gully is in Palm Beach, a place made famous overseas by the hit drama series: Home & Away.

map-palm-beach

Map of Palm Beach, Sydney. The Left or Western side is Pittwater with still water and the right or Eastern coast has waves.

dsc_5425

Mind you, just because Dark Gully gets its name from being sheltered from the sun, that doesn’t mean it doesn’t have its mysteries. Top of the list, is a sandstone cave which has a window and a door. Of course, it doesn’t take much imagination to view this mysterious hide-out as an Aladdin’s Cave. A treasure trove overflowing with some kind of stash more interesting than broken boat parts, tangled fishing lines and last year’s empties. Unfortunately, despite extensive surveillance while we were living in the area, I’ve never witnessed even the twitch of a twig outside that place. I swear they come and go by moonlight and yes, the moon is on that side of the hill.

By the way, speaking of not seeing things in the area, the late George Michael lived just over that hill and I didn’t see him coming or going either. Not that I was operating some kind of amateur surveillance or stalking operation down there. As far as I was concerned, the water was always an empty, black ink. Of course, I sort of knew there were flying mullet, stingrays and sharks lurking beneath the depths, but I never saw much action on top of the water. There was just the huge yacht which moored a few metres away from our boat ramp  every Christmas. Humph… there could well have been activity there. However, I was too busy photographing the moon to notice. Yes, that’s right I was stalking sunsets and moon rises with my camera, not celebrities I didn’t know were there.

Next up…sailing at Dark Gully and you can also read about exploring Dark Gully and Palm Beach in this previous post: Exploring Palm Beach…Our Borrowed Backyard.

xx Rowena