Ripping yarns, beautiful lies and a few home truths.
Achingly beautiful photos. I reckon we city folk miss out on (seasonal)endings. The closest we get is when we break for easter or christmas or when the last of summer fades into winter. In Brisbane its easier to recognise beginnings - like the blooming of the jacarandas which heralds the beginning of spring (but for students the end of year exams) or the first thunderstorm of the summer season. Packing up to move on is so final. Until next year.
Or 2017 ... in this case. These fishers only get the inlet once every five years, so it is a big goodbye.