Week 18 – Ode to Port Fairy – 52 weeks 52 walks

Week 18 – Port Fairy
Distance – 5km
Where – Port Fairy include Russell Clarke Reserve, Pea Soup, the Passage and the Wharf
10 words – familiar, quiet, windy and wild, rejuvinating, salty, beautiful at dawn

The very lush inlet between Pea Soup and the Passage which was teaming with succulents.

I love Port Fairy. But maybe not the same way many tourists do.

It is part of my childhood and really my whole life. Half the town would relocate to camp every summer and while we were not one of them. Daltons were often in the mix. Later my nanna and mum both lived there.

I love the river and sea – although I did catastrophise about tidal waves when sleeping in Snow Sharrock’s borrowed caravan the one time our family did camp. I love going to the slide at Yambuk which was just a fun-filled sand dune in our youth.

I am walking on Gunditjmara country today as I wander through Port Fairy’s streets, along the beach and beside the river. It was a quick sprint down to see my child Lily for the Mother’s Day weekend so I got there Friday night, will have a dawn walk Saturday before heading up the road 3 hours to visit mum in the nursing home.

It is still dark when I roll out of bed. Outside the moon grins smugly as the austere stone church is serenaded by a choir of insomniac magpies backed up by the humming sea.

Approaching Bank street, I get some mother’s days wishes from flowers perched outside the bank and the early morning symphony is joined by clanging pots through the café window.

Lights in Banks street seemed to approve of the morning song and swing rhythmically over the inky black road.

I head west through waking streets where magpies are now discussing issues of the day overhead on a power pole.

Houses give way to trees at Russell Clarke Memorial Park where the sky beings to transform. The denim fades to pale lemon near the horizon as Russel’s park takes me through shrubs and wetlands.

There were some big seas a few weeks ago so I scout for signs of the storm as I arrive at the beach.

Named Pea Soup it is a giant pool sheltered by off shore rocks.

Clouds are taking on shades of pink and blue and I am looking forward a pretty awesome sunrise when the she pops over the dunes to the east.

At one point I see a crowd of noisy birds busy foraging in sea weed where the dune has been attacked by waves. There is no discrimination at this feast with birds of all shapes and sizes engrossed in their sandy breakfast.

Many fly back and forth enmasse in a chaos of feathers and squarks, while others prefer chatting – like the magpies – along the shore.

I take one last look at the pastel sky as the bold sun prepares for a very grand entrance.

Charcoal rocks turn gold, waves and even a boat glow and a big ray smashes over the horizon.

I round a corner to a little bay and it’s like someone turned on a spotlight. Tiny weeds make an amazing silhouette and the grey sky in the west contrasts dramatically with floodlit dune grasses.

Looking down I also wonder if the big seas have boosted growth of the many succulents and plants growing at the water’s edge. These lush plants are just glowing.

Then the light goes out and as I reach the The Passage, the sun has also disappeared.

I cross the road and head through another wetland where big rocks sit absurdly on the cut grass thanks to recent storms. There is a quick detour into a bird hide and then it is off to the wharf.