While some gaze starry-eyed at the cosmos, planets, and little green creatures, my fascination lies in the ocean’s depths and the shifting sands of the shore. The mysteries hidden beneath the waves pull at me like a relentless undertow and there’s a silent beckoning in the salty breath of the West Australian coast. This is a fascination I’ve felt since I was a small pearl in the oyster of life’s adventures.
One sweltering summer, just beyond the haze of my first year at uni, I visited the south coast gem of Esperance. Travelling with my brother and his mates who had all formed a band, we planned to spend some weeks there. They had scored a handful of gigs at a local music festival, and I tagged along as a self-appointed roadie.
I hadn’t spent a lot of time with my brother until then, so I was happy to be there. I knew little about Esperance beyond social media snippets. Its beaches are all the talk — lauded by some as the finest in the world — but I didn’t know much more about the place.
“Thirty-eight degrees, clear skies, and extreme UV”— my weather app cheerfully announced on our first Saturday morning. Typically, I’d be poised to plunge headlong into the day at the slightest suggestion of sunlight; but today, my enthusiasm was tempered by the throbbing in my skull — a souvenir from the escapades of the previous night. Nonetheless, there were few places I’d prefer to nurse myself back to health than right here.
That morning, I caught up with .