The girls walk at the beach every Monday. Today there was grey sky, lightly drizzling. The 3.5 metre swell of the weekend has been replaced with a calm smooth ocean and piles of shiny brown seaweed. The bins were full and the beach was empty apart from a lone swimmer and a figure in black practising yoga on the sand.
We have just hosted a week long surfing carnival here. The main street, the road to the beach and the bakeries that open early have all been extremely busy. Wicked vans are camped in every secluded spot around town and the ones not so secluded act like they are invisible.
Saturday night saw a concert held on the town oval that lasted nearly eight hours. The stamina of these kids that subsist on a diet of pies, juice, early mornings, extreme sports and late nights, often accompanied by alcohol, is awesome. Sunday morning all to be seen of the hundreds of party goers were a few asleep under bushes around town and a few more buying juice at the supermarket.
This is a phenomenon that happens in Margaret River at least twice a year. The locals not smitten by waves batten down the hatches and stock up on bread and milk the Thursday before while businesses keep extra staff on call.
I used to resent the intrusion to 'my town' and while the noise and rubbish do annoy me, I have come to appreciate these events that many of the local teenagers look forward to. Being three or more hours from the city, they don't often have the opportunity to party in large groups, meet new people, hear new bands and blow off steam. There is definitely an air of excitement all week - a buzz in the air from all the gorgeous young people having fun.
Today, the pace was slower. The sound disturbance from the concert had been negligible, the marquees on the point are being dismantled and the shire had extra people out on the litter run. The occupants of the last van in the car park had woken by the time we had finished our coffee and were enjoying their breakfast with the best view in the world. The one we are lucky enough to enjoy all year. We can go back to being a sleepy country town now, until Easter, any way!
Meanwhile, the garden and I are enjoying the rain,