Day one : post winter Solstice

At 9:28pm the previous day, the winter solstice was reached amidst un-outrageous celebrations of lit Sparklers, hollerin' and toe-tapping manifests. Included was the opening of a very cheap bottle of obscure branded champagne and generally pointless mischief making at the very localised level of my backyard. This celebration was for the edifice of nobody really, especially when I had Lou Reed's 'A Walk on the Wild Side' blaring away at the exact instant of the solstice.

That I could not see the Sun at the time of the solstice - that potent Orb of our life - was a mere 'astronomical trifling' that I blithely put down to Astronomers with too much time on their hands. I was so excited by the momentous occasion of the solstice that later on in the wee hours I could hardly sleep, despite the cheap champagne surprising my kidneys - in fact making wee, was quite the order of things into the wee hours, as I found out.

So onto the first day post solstice and despite not having any coffee in the house, I strode into the longer day with a 'tally-ho attitude'. A very un-wintry day canvassed 22 June, if you ignored the chill-factor of a Blighty type frost. There was the conundrum of domestic matters to attend and the incessant traffic along the thoroughfare outside my home to cuss with vigour. However, once such attendant duties were dispatched I was off to plod under the weak sunshine and soak up some Vitamin D. Slapping on my backpack, armed these days with camera, tripod and a good book, in this case, Michael Lewis's, 'The Big Short'. I digress: the book is a visceral tour of the insanity that took place in the Trading Rooms of New York and other places in the Great Financial Crisis. Reading this acerbic inquest makes me glad to be a Keynesian. Though no matter where you live, Crooks will always be Crooks it's just the currency has a different colour. I have a mantra: Money ain't everything but white chocolate could be.

For my plod I decided an easy jaunt along the beach starting from Altona (a western bayside suburb of Melbourne and a familiar haunt) to a place called the Truganina Coastal Parklands. The afternoon tide was on the ebb and a thin haze of fog skirted across the calm waters of Port Phillip Bay by the time I hopped off the Bus and trundled down past the regular Tuesday Street-Market Stallholders that ply their fine goods along Pier Street (one of the main streets of Altona that leads directly to the Pier itself - of course I hear you sigh - you'd not call it Pier Street if it lead to a Cemetery, then again ...). The Stallholders are always friendly, keen to sell you a 'bargain' or have a natter - many great issues of the day are 'solved' in these banters. Over the years I have come to know many Stallholders beyond the exchange level (though I am sure I have helped contribute to their wealth to a large extent), especially the Booksellers and Chocolate Traders - 'Yes, I'll have that slab of Belgium White Chocolate, thank you very much and that Poetry Anthology, sure!'

Reaching my starting point at the Pier - a lovely old structure with a history dating back well over 100 years - I aimed my plod-stick westwards and ho I went! It's a simple pleasure walking along the beach at low tide, especially at Altona with its congress of smells, colours, life and sounds. The Sun, although timid with a late June shyness, felt soothing on my grizzled face. The beams of its atomic activity seeping through my skin in a reminder that we are from stardust and will return to stardust in the end. My jacket was off too, in total disdain for the glum-season, for there was not a hint of wind to cause goosebumps or chattering of my few teeth. A mere 4 kilometres or roughly 5,500 strides (I've worked this out, seriously) and I'd be at my destination.

The Park is located 15 kilometres from the Melbourne CBD and about an hour at my pedantic pace along the beach from Altona. Consisting of a number of smaller Parks and Reserves it totals 300 hectares in what once was, after the European settlement, by various incarnations: a Quarry, Landfill, Settling Ponds (for sewage), Ammunition Factory and Dump, Salt Pans, Wastelands and a Rubbish Dump. Following extensive reclamation and conservation works, including the planting of thousands of native flora, the area is now a popular recreation location of understated beauty. The Park is named after an indigenous Tasmanian woman elder, Truganini 1812-1876, (sometimes spelt as Trugernanner) who briefly lived in the District. Truganini is considered (arguably) the last full blood Tasmanian Aborigine. Tasmania being an island state of Australia located south of the mainland, below Victoria. Truganini is a significant indigenous custodian who lived a tough, though unimpeachable life, despite the predatory interdictions of European desires, benevolence and exploitation. Her story makes for instructive reading.

At the site of the old Altona Tip (a rubbish dump) located within the Coastal Park there is broad based artificial mound rising to 17 metres - the highest point for some distance - called the '100 Steps to Federation'. The '100 steps' is a metaphor for the celebration of 100 years of the Australian Political Federation, which occurred in 1901 when the former self governing Colonies (States) set up at various stages under British jurisdiction, federated to form a National Government. The steps (which climb very gently) are made from basalt rocks recycled from the Tip. At the summit you have 360 degree panoramic views of Melbourne CBD and the Dandenongs Ranges to the east, Port Phillip Bay and some of its eastern bayside suburbs to the east and south, parts of the Truganina wetlands and Point Cook to the south, the You Yangs Mountain Range to the west and finally across the extinct volcanic mounts of Cottrell, Macedon and the Camels Hump to the north. Marking the summit is what I reckon to be one of the most imaginative public artworks in Melbourne - the Time Beacon. It's a 5.4 meter tall stainless steel structure (the top part is shown in the photograph) completed in 2001 by noted local Sculptor, Cameron Robbins. I often come up here to do some Cloudspotting - I call this my 'official Cloudspotting office'. Too, it's a superb suburban location to do some star gazing (it's reasonably free of light pollution). Or a place just to get away from the suburban craziness.

I reached the Time Beacon, with flushed cheeks from the brisk pace I had set plodding along the beach. Timely enough too, as the Sun was starting to recline into its western clutch and a colourful sunset was in the offing. In this moment, I was quite content, drinking a mellifluous cup of Brazilian coffee from the thermos and snacking on a piece of Vanilla Slice I had acquired en-route from the Altona Bakery. In the distance I could see the CBD of Melbourne with its contribution to the Greenhouse effect, slowly being enveloped by a layer of fog and smog. In another direction I saw the distinctive outline of the fabulously named You Yangs Mountain Range standing on the south-western coastal plains, its massive bulk a dark brooding sentinel. Overhead the hues of sunset and the promise of night-time started to manifest. A fine way to see out the first day beyond the solstice I surmised.

Setting up the camera and tripod, I took a few obligatory snaps of the Time Beacon and the 360 degree views but as it got darker the wispy outlines of the billions and trillions of Stars that make up the Milky Way started to display and I was gobsmacked (as I always am) of this vista. Here was my photo I reckoned, with the Southern Cross constellation edging the 'bell' of the Time Beacon. I ended up staying until well after dark, not seeing another soul, before I reluctantly, as a frost was starting to settle, trundled back along the beach to the maddening crowd (well if you call half a dozen people a crowd) around Altona and the Bus trip home.