A prayer

May 12, 2017 § 4 Comments

Other people’s words about … the view

At the back of the hotel was a garden. Along its edge ran an earthen pathway pillared by palms. it ended in a low iron gate. They had not noticed the gate before, but now they saw it opened directly onto the beach. Stepping through the gate, they were confronted by the white and blue of ocean and beach in limpid morning light. Bare-chested fishermen were pushing wooden boats into the surf, chanting prayers together for luck. Women in fluorescent knee-high saris walked past in pairs and threes, with fish-baskets on their heads.

From ‘Sleeping on Jupiter
by Anurahda Roy

First, an update: we didn’t go camping at Yorke Peninsula during my fortnight of annual leave as we’d planned, after all. For a variety of reasons, it was impossible to get away. Instead, we spent the two weeks flitting back and forth between our main home in Taperoo (a coastal suburb twenty kilometres north of Adelaide, where most of my jetty photos originate) and our old beach shack at Aldinga (a coastal suburb forty-five kilometres south of Adelaide, where many of my other beach photos come from). So the view from the steps down to the beach was different from the one I’d anticipated, though it was still a view to revel in.

A view to revel in

I complained recently about my dread of autumn and winter, those months of the year I always think of as the grey months. But my complaints this year were premature. Sometimes in South Australia, in the early weeks of autumn, the wind dies off, giving way to still, sunny days; endless blue skies; cold, clear nights. That’s how it’s been here for the last four weeks. I could not have picked better weather for a holiday by the sea, even without the campfires I’d hoped for.

One afternoon at Aldinga I took a walk heading south along the beach, beyond the spot where cars are permitted to drive onto the beach to launch fishing boats. It was one of those days where the horizon — that mysterious line between the sky and the sea — seems almost invisible. A boat glided over the surface, somehow suspended between the two, and the headland in the distance was shrouded in a mist of sea spray. The sea changed colour as I walked, from opaque blue, to glassy blue, and then to silver.

Tyre tracks in the sand

Invisible horizon

Gliding boat

Sea spray shrouding the headland

Opaque blue

Glassy blue

Silver and shining

As I walked, I thought about the words I’ve quoted right at the top of this post. I write about the beach here on my blog as a place, always, of beauty and wonder: a place where I swim and stroll, wander and wonder. But that’s a very Western, privileged, twenty-first-century way of viewing it, isn’t it? The beach in the world Anurahda Roy describes — modern-day India — is another place entirely; and her sea is a different entity. In her world, the sea provides the means for people to strive to make a living, and the making of that living obscures the beautiful view.

I am lucky enough, mostly, not to feel the need to chant a morning prayer for luck, as the fishermen in Roy’s passage do. But if I were the praying type, I would utter a prayer of thanks for the view of the beach I had that day, and for every day I get to live by it.

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§ 4 Responses to A prayer

  • Eliza Waters says:

    Superb post, Rebecca! Beautiful photos and your descriptions were so apt that I could ‘see’ the scene even if there weren’t photos (but I’m glad there were). 🙂

    • Rebecca says:

      Thanks, Eliza! It was a glorious afternoon at the beach, one of those afternoons you never forget, even if you don’t have a camera with you (but luckily I did … ) x

  • My favourite season is actually autumn. The leaves are turning and there is a chill in the air that is just so refreshing from the heat of waning summer…great post! 🙂

    • Rebecca says:

      Thank you! 🙂 Autumn is a beautiful season, you’re right; I just always forget that because I see it as the passage to dreaded winter … Glad you enjoyed the post 🙂

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