This was last December when hubby and I stayed overnight in Phillip Island.

Phillip Island is a popular day-trip destination from Melbourne, just off Australia’s southern coast. When we checked in, the owner advised us that the beach was nearby, so we decided to see it for ourselves.

The walk to the beach is always different, even if the path is the same.

The air changes as you get closer—the scent of salt and seaweed drifting in before you even catch sight of the water. Footsteps crunch on gravel, then soften on sand.

The beach was almost empty, except for a lone person sitting with his fishing rod. We really enjoyed our walk, and I didn’t even feel any pain in my knee joints—hurray!

The waves move in their endless rhythm, pulling back and rolling forward, as if greeting you. A pause, just long enough to watch the light dance on the surface, to listen to the hush of water meeting land.

The plan was just to take a short walk to see where the path from the hotel to the beach would lead us, but an hour or more later, here we were. We had reached the main town of Phillip Island, where we decided to have an early dinner.

After dinner, we headed back to our accommodation quickly, fearing we wouldn’t find our way in the dark after sunset. We followed the same path but had to alter our route due to the high tide. At one point, we thought we might end up in the water, but fortunately, we found another way over the hill.

Footsteps fade in the cool sand, waves whispering nearby. The sky glows amber and violet, the tide pulling the day into dusk.

When we reached this signage we knew that we were nearly home.

The world inland feels quieter now, as if the sea has followed you home.

I am linking this to Jo’s Monday Walk, for Xingfumama’s Whatsoever is Lovely and to Jez’s Water Water Everywhere