By Julie Paterson
THE Mouth of the Powlett’s estuarine wetlands, salt marsh and coast has enamoured me since the mid nineties. That serpentine river and the entirety of the place coalesce into a unique ecology and ambience. It teems with layers of life, visual textures, a multitude of species and a restorative force … and let’s not forget the times of blasting salt winds which reshape not only dunes but also your face.
THE Mouth of the Powlett’s estuarine wetlands, salt marsh and coast has enamoured me since the mid nineties. That serpentine river and the entirety of the place coalesce into a unique ecology and ambience. It teems with layers of life, visual textures, a multitude of species and a restorative force … and let’s not forget the times of blasting salt winds which reshape not only dunes but also your face.
Before the river mouth was artificially opened in late July, an algal slime of varying transparency bloomed atop the surface. These veils of algae moved in expansion with the water across the wetlands, creating beautiful traceries. When the estuary was opened the river shed its algal hide, draping it across everything that lay beneath it.
The algal phenomenon is a crucial cycle for the wetlands and salt marsh. A multitude of algae species bloom on the water surface. These nutrient-rich algae feed the ecosystem as they break down.
I take the trail on the west side of the river. Flocks of ducks glide in like plump hovercrafts. Grand dead banksias hold tidal nests in their low boughs. Seagulls salsa at the edge of brackish water nabbing any food their fancy footwork brings to the surface. Pelicans fly in on a blue sky moon.
Algae bloom on the now exposed river edges, setting in course the perennial cycle. A pair of swamp harriers circle above the salt marsh. A washed-ashore swirl of swan grass is spangled with a selection of bird droppings and feathers; it’s a river slushie with a Masterchef finish. And all the life one can’t see is layered here within this unique landscape that etches a vast micro ecology.
At the base of the dunes’ scrub we are given tresses of bower spinach and skirts of rhagodia. It is impossible not to feel the child well up on seeing the gothic lime green tents, humpies and portals.
Wind, water, sedges, sand and reeds articulate the air and orchestrate light. Lilacs, indigos, wind-spun blues, blonde, golden and russet hues, a white silver winter light and the palest of pastel pinks seamlessly dissolve into one another.
A near cloudless evening presses its damp cold across the land. I walk back through the lowlight gauze, banksias and dense rising earthy scents; it’s all so heady. A fecund silence permeates the fading light. The river so quiet, the air distilled. The cormorants fat.
