You see, most of life is a blur at first. Then comes the obstacles – rocky, challenging, numerous. But as we keep going, they seem to get a little more manageable. They didn’t lessen; they merely become less important. Even the barriers put in place cannot stop us from flowing through.
At the end? At the end we finish off as ashes in the sea, mixed within the rocks that line the shore.
Need a new lighthouse keeper? Here’s a tiny light…
And hey, never too small to do the job! Maybe not the most qualified. But who is to say otherwise? What’s wrong with giving it a try?
We may look back to see what we’ve missed, but we don’t always get the chance to see what we’ve left behind.
Deep within the abyss, it seems hard to comprehend, what great heights trees can grow to, and how far down earth can fall…
On the most south-westerly point of Australia, stands a grand and captivating structure – the Cape Leeuwin Lighthouse – still fully operational, and one that has reduced the number of shipwrecks from 22 before its time, to only 1 since it was built in 1895. Constructed of limestone, this 176 steps ascent brings us over 31metres above ground, and boasts views of where two oceans meet.
An amazing fact I’d gathered was that the lighthouse ran on a clockwork mechanism and kerosene burner until 1982, when electricity was introduced to its operations. How does it feel to be left in a corner of the world and forgotten despite all that progress?!
I took a hike to Hamelin Bay one afternoon, and took in the fresh breeze by the sea. It wasn’t quite the place you would visit in Autumn, but I did anyway.
The colours were foreboding, as I arrived close to sunset, and that was where I’d learned about the notorious history of wrecks on this bay. The remnants of the original jetty stand against the winds and waves as I approached.
There I met a friend who had the same taste as I did with the sea breeze –
A short break brought me to a set of caves within the Margaret River region. I cannot be sure what fascinates me more, the shadows in the dancing darkness, or the flickering lights that bounce of the stalactites.
The region has several caves, of which I chose to take a walk at the Mammoth Cave – a self-guided trip into the unknown – but still safe, nonetheless.
The beauty of the Mammoth Cave lies in the amount of knowledge you can pick up – from the evolution of geographical spaces, to the extinction of megafauna that were far superior than what we see today.
I took a turn to another cave nearby, the Lake Cave, and was intrigued to learn the impact of human touch on the formations (I won’t spoil the fun for you – head to Perth and find out on your own!)
To get to the bottom of Lake Caves, you’ve got to take a challenging 350 steps in, and as you look up, don’t be surprised by the little white cob webs that cling to the surface of the rocks. I can only rave about the beauty of the lake caves – the sound of water trickling and echoing in the depths, forming new shapes and wonders of the world.
There’s a good other few caves you can visit, such as the Ngilgi Cave set in the bushes, and the highly-promoted (which was perhaps why I chose to skip it) Jewel Cave.
Either ways, the silence in the caves were a great way for me to relax and think about life.
“We’re not the same, but I’m sure we can still have a meaningful conversation…”
It’s a bird and his leafy friend are having a chat. Hush, guys.
What do you say?
A curtain of shadows camouflages the luminous glow. It gives nothing more than a sheer cloak; unobscured.
Hidden in the dark,
Yet badly wanting to shine.
Life of a secret.
The moon is decked in red. The rest of the world, a pitch black.
Had something happened; a sign of unrest, or where tears are shed?
Somewhere up there, is there another me, staring out the window looking back?