I stepped out of the apartment yesterday morn, still dark at 05:52 and eight degrees Celsius. I didn’t have a specific idea about where I wanted to go but I found myself at ‘here’ about two and a half, three, hours later, with the wintery-albeit-superbright sun in my eyes and instead of putting away the camera and heading for home – which is what usually happens – I decided to stay out and keep shooting…
‘Here’ being Walsh Bay, just north-east of the the city and The Rocks area (for those who aren’t local). I really like this part of Sydney because except for the fit folk in lycra and running shoes or perched on their bicycles, it’s empty and quiet and so very peaceful.
Somewhere along Pier 8, I climbed up a flight of stairs to a door that didn’t open (to the public), right to the top so that I could admire the view. I always want to go high, despite my fear of heights. I never seem to tire of the sensation of peering down from above. Perhaps I enjoy the exhilaration when its accompanied by fear. Maybe without the tinge of terror, there’s no thrill.
After I’d ascertained that my acrophobia was still very much present (and taken in the view), I descended the stairs, in a somewhat wobbly manner, then pulled up a tall chair at the usual sun-trap spot outside Pier 8 Cafe for a croissant and coffee… and watched the runner pound her way past me once again. If I had to guess I’d say her run was part of her Saturday morning ritual, just as my session with my camera was mine.
I’ve had a week off the treadmill because my left knee has been complaining a little more than I’d like to admit (beyond the usual post-workout aches), but I’ll be back to the routine from tomorrow. One week seems to have done the trick, not to mention, it’s time to get back to it, especially if I want to keep enjoying croissants every now and again.