Missing the Light
It’s the light that I miss.
Unable to leave Australia for nearly two years, and for much of that time unable to even travel around the country, and for some of that time only allowed to leave the house for a narrow set of prescribed reasons, if you ask me what I miss about not being allowed to travel I will tell you this – I miss the light.
I miss the light show that only varying forms of sunlight can produce.
The shaft of sunlight beaming through a cleft in the hills late in the afternoon, depositing a warming pool of light on a small village perched on one of the steep sides of the valley. The village lit almost as though it were a stage, with the rest of the valley in deep shade as though it were the darkened theatre. The climb forgotten now, but the image of the tranquil valley and the warming beam of light remains.
The glare of the early morning sun reflecting off the glassy water as I paddle out to the break.
And then in the afternoon, walking along the beach, and seeing the air, the thick sea air pushed by the breeze, roll over the dunes and tangle with the banksia trees, the light muted by the salty haze.
To the foodies, who travel for taste, I say this – food is fuel. For you Tuscany is pecorino, for me it is gelato late in the afternoon standing under the shade of a vine-covered pergola in a hill top village gazing across the rolling hills at the famous Tuscan light. You can import the pecorino, but you can’t match the light.
I can swap stories with someone from India, they can share with me their biryani at lunch, but that exchange cannot reproduce the sensation of watching the sun’s final rays set aglow the walls of the old Fort at Jaisalmer, observed from an open air restaurant atop a building. A restaurant full of tourists it is true, all in place to experience those few moments when the Fort, and the very air it seems, turn to gold.
The golden hour, the magic hour for photography occurs everywhere of course, and even within the lockdown restrictions it is possible to find a place where the fall of light stops you, just for a moment, but those moments, that light, are too familiar now.
