Perfection for fishing and surfing: Phillip Is.

If I was to create the perfect place to fish and surf, Flynns Beach on Phillip Island would be close to this idea of perfection -- give or take a shark or two!

Black volcanic rocks spill onto the beach

There's a place to the east of Flynns Beach where a flow of volcanic rock has spilled down the land and into the sea. These black rocks make a dramatic statement, and also mark the place where two of our walks meet.

From home, when we walk west along 'our' beaches, the sand ends at this same spill of volcanic rock. From here you can also see the tiny Trenevan Park Chapel perched on the cliff -- a place where local weddings and funerals are often held.

While walking we keep our eyes open for treasures, and also for weeds such as this introduced sea spurge -- a nasty weed because it overtakes the sand dunes and also contains sap that's dangerous to human eyes and skin.

The bush track to Flynn's Beach: Phillip Is.

The bush track that winds its way through coastal scrub, deep golden sand, and a hillside of calcified roots opens out into a wide vista of surf and golden sand called Flynn's Beach.

Aside from coastal tea tree and banksia, hakeas in flower are the next most common vegetation -- and these I show you in the photos.

The way the track winds its way through a tunnel of vegetation reminds me of a magnificent cathedral: hushed, contained.

Katie Siamese rules the roost

Our 15 year old Siamese is as lovable, mischievous and full of personality as she was as a kitten. Katie is top dog in our household: she comes ahead of Doug and me, ahead of our two German shepherds Major and Del.

Never does she let an opportunity pass by for a cuddle or a play. Open a cupboard and in she darts to hide in amongst whatever is there. She's full of fun; full of affection; and we love her dearly.

Katie has always been an indoors cat, and enjoys living in a caravan too. She is a birdwatcher rather than a bird catcher -- an Environcat.

I can't (and don't want to) imagine life without Katie.

PS
No doubt you'll notice Doug's recent skin cancer scar. Fortunately it's healing well and the pain has almost gone. At its worst he had a black eye as well. Not a pretty sight!

'Street of lights' up Western Port Bay

The Western Port Bay shipping channel follows an ancient river course, and is marked by a 'street of lights' all the way to the industrial town of Hastings. There is little room for error.

At Grossard Point, McHaffie reef extends 700 m towards the shipping channel. It is, therefore, a vital place to have a warning light.

A white, red and green flashing light at Grossard Point indicates danger, along with a red buoy showing the seaward end of the reef.

The gas tanker shown in the photo ( called Bering Sea) is going up the channel to Cribb Point, where it will be filled with gas. On its return journey it will pass our home again, and will then head into Bass Strait -- towards an overseas destination.

From our home we can see the Grossard Point light. Like a lighthouse it suggests safe passage through a difficult section of water. For this reason it's a reassuring presence.

Roller coaster of emotions: Easter Saturday

Emotionally I feel all over the place today. My close friend, Edna, who I've been meeting every Saturday morning for the last 15 years -- along with about six other women friends -- has left the island today. This morning was her last Saturday morning with us.

We meet for coffee, conversation and laughter at a restaurant in Cowes called 'Harry's on the Esplanade'. Here the owners Kirsten and Harry, and their staff (especially Jip and Eva) look after us like honoured guests. The view out to sea, past the Cowes jetty and over Western Port Bay to French Island, is breathtaking.

Edna and I met on the beach track here at Ventnor. It was as if we'd known each other a lifetime and beyond. Edna's a strong spiritual person with deep compassion. Life hasn't been easy for her, beginning with the disability of polio as a child. However, she is strong and has a great sense of humour.

This afternoon Doug and I went to look at the art exhibition held in Cowes every Easter. Five paintings -- the creation of my friend Jill -- were the main reason for my visit. Jill and I grew up as next-door neighbours in Melbourne, until we both left home in our early 20s. We pretended we were sisters, so when Jill and her husband moved to Phillip Island a couple of years ago, our reunion was wonderful. We hadn't seen each other for 40 years!

Apart from Jill's paintings, which were of exceptional quality, I felt a sad sense of dislocation. Although we have lots of good friends here on the island, I don't feel part of the community. It's not like Mitchell where I feel connected and feel appreciated for who I am.

So today has seen my emotions all over the place. Add to that a savage westerly gale and I find myself thinking: Mitchell, outback Queensland.

Yet, as I look around me at the dramatic coastal scenery, I sense that many people would wonder why I'd ever want to leave the island. For those of you who've followed my journey, through this blog, I think you'll understand my reasons for wanting to migrate back to outback Queensland.

Kitty Miller Bay's kelp and 'bonsai' correas

Kitty Miller Bay is a place where, at sundown, penguins tumble from waves and then make their way up the beach to their burrows in the sand dunes; where mutton birds also return to their burrows to feed hungry chicks that await their arrival.

Growing in amongst rocks and in the full blast of salt-laden southerly gales, correas grow and flower, their silvery trunks twisted and wind-sculptured. They remind me of bonsai, which I love. Up the beach a little, coast everlastings are shedding their fine seed, after a prolific flowering season.

Along the beach, long ribbons of kelp have collected in heaps -- slippery, leathery fronds. These are just some of the lovely things we found while exploring Kitty Miller Bay.