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Footpaths.

The perfect day for walking.

It was a perfect day for walking.

We parked up at the lighthouse and checked out the blowhole before transecting the town.

The sea was impressive with occasional waves shooting cotton white sparklers up against the cliffs. But the angles must have been off, the hole was all slop and churn. No money shot.

So. Take away coffee sipped cross-legged on the grass looking out across the harbour. Hopelessly figuring if the tide was half out or half in.

[Walking] is the perfect way of moving if you want to see into the life of things. It is the one way of freedom. If you go to a place on anything but your own feet you are taken there too fast, and miss a thousand delicate joys that were waiting for you by the wayside.

Elizabeth von Arnim, The Adventures of Elizabeth in RĂ¼gen

Then a warm amble out to Pheasant Point. Juno anointing trees and posts along the way until his tank was empty. Cocking his leg anyway just in case any other dogs we’re watching.

Turn around. All the way back south of the lighthouse to watch the surfers ride the high swell across storm bay. Read for a long while. Juno asleep at my side. A simple lunch of sweet mandarin slices and tap water all made delicious by the day and the view.

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