Hunting for pillow lava

Tags

Aboriginal painting, pillow lava

An early start on Sunday morning, driven by the need for low tide. We return to Narooma Beach, in search of pillow lava. We go armed with a photo from the website about the Narooma Accretionary Complex, a quick look at Google pillow lava images, and a determination to track it down. The day is splendid, and the rock lilies are flowering on the Two Sisters just off the highway. We poke around the beach, creating hypotheses and asking endless questions of each other's ignorance: “What do you reckon?” ” Is this it?” and noticing all sorts of other rocky things, that raise more questions. Finally we decide that we have it nailed.

 

 

What's the story of pillow lava? Mounds of elongated lava “pillows” form as hot basalt oozes thousands of feet below the ocean and is cooled quickly by sea water. A glassy crust forms over the lava, pressure builds up, the crust breaks, and new basalt extrudes like toothpaste, forming another pillow. So the land we were walking along, with the sea curling lazily in, was once far under water.

It's T-shirt warm, and we continue exploring, clambering around the rocks below the cemetery, me deigning to use J's supporting hand once or twice. I learn again that taking cautious steps causes more wobble than maintaining forward momentum.

Baranguba on the horizon, the tide on the turn, daisies spilling down the cliff, the waves rolling in, we look up at ancient sea floor rising black above us. We are in a subduction zone, where once upon a time a Pacific plate caused upheaval when it thrust itself under the edge of the Gondwana plate, so geologists say. Here we think we see more pillow lava on the rock platform.

 

 

A reminder of our First Peoples appears on the rocks below the cliff, a small painting, confidently executed.

 

 

Posted with Blogsy

Instead of Fabergé …

Tags

birds, boardwalk, Gulaga, mangroves, murals, ripples, sea urchins, seals, signs

… a whole collection of watery and airy things. For once I manage to capture birds – one a camera-flirt to rival my great niece, even going so far as to sit on my knee. He also attempts to kidnap my scone, a very good one: he has discrimination.

There are plenty of sounds as I amble along the boardwalk: the throaty satisfaction of the pelicans as a fishing boat approaches; the croarrr of seagulls; the insistent ringing of invisible bell-birds; the lazy midday quarking of crows; the cello-coos of doves in the bridge superstructure; the metallic tap of walkers' shoes; the occasional whirrrr of an an approaching bike; the excited cry of a boy when he spots seals: “Mum! Look what I found”; and behind it all the continuous noise of traffic on the highway. Signs provide amusement, history, and an idea for a future walk.

The tide is heading towards low: colonies of sea urchins, indicators of healthy water, are easy to spot, nudged up against rocks. Ripples, oyster-encrusted rocks, the blue green under the bridge, even the mud and sand-patterns are all jewel-like.

 

Wagonga Inlet seals

 

Mangrove twistings

My lunch companion - butcher bird?

 

The past and a pleasant walk for the future

Murals: Gulaga as a woman on the swimming pool, and car washing on the loo at Apex Park

 

Jewels

 

 

 

Which brings me back to Fabergé, in case you're wondering. The stroll along the board walk began as an adjunct to going to the movies, to see Fabergé. Screening was cancelled because they'd sent John the wrong DVD, so I took my Fabergé where I could find him, along with many other treasures.

 

Posted with Blogsy