Between mountains.

We moved along the beach towards a point where, eons ago, the hills behind had shattered and poured down large granite or sandstone rocks on to the beach.  We climbed them, crossed the point and saw another stretch of beach. This faced directly south. The peaks of Wilson’s Promontory were a grey graph against the southern sky. 

But if you turn to the north, you can see another jagged line: Mt. Best. If you drive out of Duck Point, head north out of the promontory’s narrow neck, and take the road up, the view south from that summit makes the peaks of Wilson’s Promontory look like low hills.

We left the jumbled cottage estate in the early evening, and the goats watched like sentinels as the car crunched down the curved gravel drive and through the gateway. The curling road out of the bald green hills of Gippsland made me sleepy so I rolled down the window for cold air that wasn’t really cold.