Ozone layers

The city across the bay is so far away it might be another world, as unreachable as your past. Yet here I am reliving a childhood of escaping that city for the peace of Bellarine.

I’m not certain I ever visited Portarlington, but it is now part of our story. We are back to buy seafood for our dinner. Then a late breakfast, disappointing, from the bakery. 
We take a scenic drive along the coast and the flat waters of the bay, stop at Indented Head. A small boat is being loaded on to a trailer as we wall along the small wooden jetty into the blue waters. 
It is so quiet here, so calm. The water sparkles, flickering reflections of the sun are stars in a sea. We take a stroll. Grasses and shrubs separate the path from the course sand and shell beach. To our left, high pines shelter a flock of galahs. 
We walk as far as the rusted wreck of the Ozone, a paddlesteamer deliberately sunk here in 1925. One wheel still stands out of the water, inhabited by a couple of fluorescently clad fishermen. 
Pelicans and cormorants rest on a line of rocks. 
Our drive continues on away from the coast and back to Queenscliff, where we have a lunch from the famous Trident Fish Bar, my favourite fish and chips shop. 
A detour in Ocean Grove for some ingredients for the mussels and fish we will be cooking for dinner tonight. Then rest at the cottage, a chance to read a book I have found there. 
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