The beach at Port Hedland

The beach at Port Hedland, north-western Australia. 1975.

This is a land of sunsets,

Red as the Port Hedland earth,

And sunrises

Behind the massive iron-ore heaps

And the huge iron-ore machines.

Sunday, one day workless, free,

Leaving the pent-up builders’ camp,

Out of the double gates,

A short walk in the heat,

And it was always hot,

There stretched away the endless sea,

A treacherous sea,

A sea of snakes and octopus,

Stranded in their rocky caves,

Coiled up in their tentacles,

Waiting,

While sharks on guard manoeuvred in the waves.

Behind,

A town of beer and iron-ore and dollars,

Where no one stays for long.

But here,

Shells strewn along the beach,

Where the dark-skinned girls,

Incongruous in dresses,

Gather coral in the sun.

Out there is Bali,

There lie the Indonesian Isles,

And a long way up the rocky coast,

Pearling luggers beached at Broome.