There’s always plenty of birdlife, a great white heron or six, and if one’s lucky an albatross or sea eagle on auto glide in the distance.

Parking to the side of the caravan park and taking the track into the scrub one is witness to the elementary force of the winds’ bomb blasts of coastal tea trees, yet much habitat is created once the bower spinach and rhagodia take hold.

Old coastal banksias hang in there, while further along it’s heartening to see young ones looking healthy and strong.

Coming out of the coastal scrub and heathland after scrambling up a dune track this sweep of the coast makes me swoon, but I cannot capture it in a photo, it’s too vast. Maybe with a medium format camera one could.

Instead I focus on the beach where the sky and ocean can churn out an ice cream candy coloured scene. Where the diaphanous end of a sea fog lifts off surrounding the dunes near the estuaries mouth.

And then there’s the range of hues and tones changing in gradient as the sun arcs west.

When the river mouth is open, one can spend hours at low tide totally immersed in this still beautiful world.

The golden hour has passed and twilight sets a new stage. The ocean turns into liquid leaden mercury. The sun has other places to get to and I feel replenished by the elements.