I have spent the past few days in a state of unrelenting toil, as if bound to some cruel taskmaster. The town in which I find myself—Mingham in New South Wales—is a place seemingly forsaken. There is no supermarket, no fast-food outlet, not even a solitary restaurant to offer relief. The unit I occupy is tainted with mould; dampness clings to the walls, and the bed linens, upon first touch, were sticky and sullied, as though long neglected. The local health service is scarcely better, staffed so poorly that it recalls the worst of neglected nursing homes. Fate, it seems, has played a bitter jest, offering hardship in abundance, comfort in none.
Yet, amidst this weariness, I have managed to compose a few posts, a small defiance against the exhaustion that presses upon me, before returning to endure the remainder of the shift.
In my mind, I often escape to a place long cherished: Balnarring Jetty, that weathered pier of Victoria. Its creaking boards, the gentle undulation of water beneath, the hush of the waves—these memories are a balm, a tender refuge far from the harshness of my present surroundings.
Mingham bears its own melancholy. Not long past, the town and its surrounds were consumed by floods of unprecedented fury. Torrential rains transformed roads into rivers, swallowing homes, and leaving streets marooned beneath waters swollen beyond memory. The river, once modest and tranquil, surged to heights unseen in a century, breaching its banks with merciless force. Entire neighborhoods were evacuated, bridges rendered impassable, and the land bore the scars of that relentless inundation for months thereafter.
In this place of lingering adversity, I find a strange resonance between the land and my own condition. Just as waters overflowed, unrestrained and unstoppable, so too has the neglect and hardship of this town broken through the fragile walls of my endurance. And yet, even amid such trials, the memory of Balnarring Jetty persists—a quiet, enduring symbol of stability and grace—reminding me that even in isolation and turmoil, beauty and calm can still be glimpsed.
Sony A7RV
FE 20-70mm f4
Linking Water H2O Thursday

That is a lovely shot, the colours beautiful and you take care.
ReplyDeleteRed neck district actually. I don't feel safe here at all either.
DeleteWow, this sounds really bad. Not a place a tourist will ever find I guess.
ReplyDeletePot holes everywhere that it was impossible to drive.
DeleteEven if the medical care is not great, I hope there is a good community there to help each other. There usually is in such towns. I remember such towns and thinking why the heck would anyone ever live and stay here. But it is their home and they are generally happy.
ReplyDeleteSadly, people are rorting the local hospital as a free hotel facility. I don't get to see community spirit.
DeleteWonderful Photo
ReplyDeleteThis sounds like a very grim place to be working and I hope your time there isn't too long. I'm so glad you can "escape" into such a world of beauty.
ReplyDeleteCant even get basic items such as milk and fruit etc
DeleteMy goodness! What a situation you are in. How unexpected in Australia,
ReplyDeleteAn impressive portrayal of the contrast between daily hardships and the power of memory to bring solace. Even in the midst of isolation and trials, you manage to capture the fragile beauty of memories that offer hope and balance. Your writing conveys with intensity both the weight of the place and the subtle light of inner refuges.
ReplyDeleteThis doesn't sound good at all, however, the photo is amazing.
ReplyDeleteThe posts from that old pier have great texture. They lead the eye out to sea.
ReplyDeleteSounds rather grim, I do hope you will not be there too long!
ReplyDeleteI like your photograph.
All the best Jan
Quite desolate yet strangely beautiful, this jetty that has wasted away with only a few posts remaining. Speaks volumes of what you're writing about, and I feel like I am right there with you, your writing is so visual and dismal. It is good to have that quiet place in ones mind that brings you back to a more soothing time. May you escape to a better situation soon.
ReplyDeleteMuy hermosa esa secuencia de maderos bañados por una luz impresionante.
ReplyDeleteUn abrazo.
What a beautiful spot! I can totally see how memories of Balnarring Jetty would feel so comforting.
ReplyDeleteDesolador lugar por lo que describes, la foto es fiel reflejo, espero que estes el menor tiempo posible por la zona.
ReplyDeleteSaludos.
I hope that your time there will soon be over. The shot is lovely.
ReplyDeleteThat scene could easily be on my beach here in the UK! Wishing you well.
ReplyDeleteA beautifully written piece, rich in imagery and emotion. I admire the way you capture hardship with such honesty, yet balance it with the serene memory of Balnarring Jetty. The contrast between struggle and solace is powerful, and your words leave a lasting impression.
ReplyDelete