Ian left early in the morning to drive down the coast for a surf. He rang me about 40 mins after he left: the waves were small and not what he had hoped. He was coming back home, and I had to get ready to go out for breakfast.
Driving home from breakfast, I asked Ian if we could drive out to the National Park. We grabbed the rods, a few packets of sweets and a whole load of prawns. We drove down the dirt roads to our spot, bristle birds hopping along side us. Once we climbed down the sandstone cliff face, it was as if we were the only people in the world. We hung out together catching fish (and let me tell you, my silver drummer was definetly the catch of the day), laughing and eating our lolly stash.
The ocean pulse was moving north along with the whales that are currently migrating. Their breaths could be seen above the surface, a gentle mist that soon dissipated into the air. Pods of dolphins swam by us, splashing and playing, keeping their young close. We took only what we needed, beautiful black drummer which would feed our bellies that night. I breathed the salt air deep into my lungs and looked at Ian. This is were we belong. This is living.