SEA FOGS

Nestled on Tasmania’s north-western coast, the town of Stanley was apparently passed by Bass and Flinders as they sailed on by, having already circumnavigated the island. Maybe they missed it because of the fog.

As if from another time, the ‘oldy-worldy’ becomes very other-worldly when the thick sea mist rolls in from Bass Strait. Offering an unexpected, magical solitude as I wandered at dawn and dusk.

At times you wouldn’t know exactly where you were but for the endearing, incessant calls of sea birds nesting by their thousands by the port. The short-tailed shearwater (mutton birds), having migrated from as far away as Siberia, lap back and forth along the shore to feed their chicks. Inhabiting the grassy banks of the seaside town and more often than not, my viewfinder too.