Observations of Flinders Bay – 26th March 2016
1. The entry to the loop around the old cow-grazing field that provides access to Storm Bay is paved with a new path to the marina. This trail and the continuation of a walk around the rocks from Storm Bay to the Swimming Pool was the first place where I experienced independence and solitude. It was a place of thinking, imagining and being alone in the world for the first time. The view of the marina now pervades into every kind of experience of this place. With this new path it is now possible for more people to enjoy the area. But it is not the same kind of enjoyment I experienced as a child. It’s a secondary level of good because I liked the old way better. Would people necessarily like Flinders Bay if they don’t have established connection to the settlement? Do people even like it? The water is cold, and is it really that picturesque? There are whales in Augusta and its quite amazing to watch them from second story windows and the shore. But apart from that it’s just cold scrubby south west coast.
2. During my walks, collecting shells around the rocks, I found rubbish, for the first time.
3. How does Flinders Bay imprint on or impact the passer-by, the tourist and the scruffy but handsome backpacker in the supermarket?
4. The shire is developing a master plan for the Flinders Bay area. I watched people looking at the notice down by the beach. “It will be good to have some more barbeques, we’ve only got that one” was one of the observation I overheard being made.
5. Reactions to place are perhaps telling of a person. Seeing the path out towards the marina, my distain for the new view from Storm Bay, and the prospective possibilities of the master plan bring out the worst in me. It is clear that the Flinders Bay I enjoyed as a child is gone. I do not want any more change and it is apparent that radical change is eminent. There is desperation in desiring the lost to be preserved. I holding onto a lost cause and not fighting for it. More people could enjoy Flinders Bay, but would they really? What makes things special sometimes is feeling like they are just for you. I want things for myself. It’s wicked and selfish, and selfish to admit to it. We used to feel like Flinders was there for us and if there was an influx of strangers one would find adolescent editions of my sister and me perched on the rock just offshore. We’d be bitching about how they weren’t locals. But who were we? Comers and goers hanging onto a history.
6. I don’t know if I want other people to have my experiences of Flinders Bay or if I just want my experiences to be waiting there for me so that I can live them again.
7. A sinking sadness for which nothing can be done.
8. Maybe it would be impressive to see whales close to the Marina, in proximity to humans and their infrastructure? It is in San Francisco, Maine and Canada or I gather so from ‘Free Willy’ and the discovery Channel. I saw a brown seal sized creature floundering in the marina one day. It never resurfaced following the spectacle of splashing and struggling at the surface. There was clear contrast between the water that had immediately surrounded the animal, clear from being stirred up and the lingering oily residue.