Sydney

From Balgowlah Heights, a few boats are already visible, scattered across the water. People arrive early, binoculars in hand, scanning the sea long before there is anything clear to see.

Some bring folding chairs, others lean on the railing. A glass of wine appears, shared between friends while the race begins to take shape offshore. The boats are still distant, but the routine is familiar — watching, pointing, waiting, talking.

Binoculars move from hand to hand.

People search for a particular boat — one sailed by a friend, a neighbour, a family member. At this distance, it’s hard to distinguish anything. Sails overlap, hulls merge. Finding the right one is difficult, even when you know it’s out there.

Not long after, the fleet clears the heads and reaches open ocean.

Chairs are folded, glasses emptied. People drift away in small groups, unhurried. The race continues south, but on the headland, the gathering quietly comes to an end.

Cormorants always look a bit theatrical when they stand with their wings spread, but it’s mostly practical. Their feathers aren’t fully waterproof – it helps them dive deeper and move faster underwater – so after a hunt they have to dry out in the sun and breeze. At North Curl Curl rock pool yesterday, one bird had taken up its drying perch just above the lane, watching a lone swimmer carve slow laps below. Two very different ways of being in the water, sharing the same strip of coast for a moment.

After a week at the desk, we drifted down to Dee Why. The last light skimmed the water while families unwrapped takeaway on the grass and people wandered between the park and the ocean.

In the late afternoon, Bondi shifts into warm light and easy movement. Just a few moments from wandering around as the day faded.