A view from the cliffs

 Subject: A view from the cliffs

It was raining, the light slanting through the clouds in rays as if God with his torch was trying to light the ground ahead. Stepping carefully to avoid the puddles he moved across the road with his eyes firmly on the open ground between the trees. It was September and his trousers were soaked and uncomfortable, a feeling of desperation crept into his resolve as he groped his way up the short grassy bank sliding in his new leather shoes, he reached the top, the trees which guarded his objective were twisted into unfathomable shapes by the wind, a silent testimony to the exposure of years of bad weather. Did it ever stop raining in this wet country with its cheerful people content to see the good in everything.
His own recent background had been different, used to the sun drenched beaches of Queensland where each morning one could bet on another sunny day, this incessant rain was getting him down. Why oh why did his family want to live here what was the purpose of living if you couldn't get down to the beach after work and have a barbi. Enclosed in their small claustrophobic houses they gathered each night around the television guarding against not only the weather but the inconvenience of a visit and the hassle of making conversation. Closing the door and isolating yourself from strangers was an art form practised by this island people, so different to the open hospitality offered back home.
The trees initially thickened and then gave way to open ground. At a distance the light flashed from the lighthouse up on the point, a path twisting the contour of the cliff edge revealed below the foamy white sea crashing, metronomic onto the black rocks. Timeless the sea has not observed man's puny attempts at installing himself "lord and master of all he surveyed", the fascination of the sea lay in his fear that here his reign of power stopped and whilst he floated uncomfortably on its surface below was another world in which he was excluded. Given that four fifths of the earths surface is covered with water it made him ponder his grotesque self confidence.

The path shirting the edge of the cliff slowly descended towards the beach. Even in such inclement weather there were a few hardy souls in the water determined to avoid the consequences of living here, determined to close their minds to the glories of the Sunshine Coast. Even the name said it all, a rich playground to relax in, the sun, the sea, the surf what more can a man want, perhaps one of those Home and Away babes.

But no, the mind blocking make do is seemingly enough to stick with the rain. Perhaps the optimism that tomorrow may be better, that tradition and unfathomable rights of passage make up for today. Perhaps the parochial simplistic sun worshipping lifestyle is not enough and the Machiavellian city life with its intrigue and tension is more your cup of tea.
The track had brought him down to the beach. Somehow he seemed rested, closer to this natural element which wasn't so different to its likeness on Noosa Head or Mooloolaba. Yes ok it was raining but his emotional connection  to the ocean and its primordial rhythmic pattern, for a moment made him reflect that people no matter where they lived, got on with the matter in much the same way.