We wake early, and I take the opportunity to wash in the shallows at the ocean’s edge. The water is refreshingly cool, though I know not to stick around for too long in case I attract unwanted attention.
Rah and I set-off for the only shop in Machans Beach (which also doubles as the local Post Office and only fuel station amongst other things) in search of something to quieten our rumbling stomachs. We gather some tomatoes, a carton of eggs and a litre of the most delicious, creamiest milk I’ve ever tasted.
We walk back to camp, each with half a litre of milk swishing around in our bellies, and get stuck into cooking up a breakfast feast! The end result is an open egg and lettuce sandwich with cooked tomato and onion, covered in Perri Perri mayonnaise. It tastes better than it sounds, and mildly better than it looks.
The day is spent pottering around Machans Beach, soaking up the rays and adjusting to a new, colourful dynamic that has stemmed from a trio rather than just the two of us previously. We lose track of time whilst we all become acquainted, and Rah does her best to give us a run-down of the local area.
It takes half a day, though I finally give-in to a sneaking suspicion that there is an animal lurking in the vacant block near where we are camping, destined to put a face to the strange noises coming from that direction. I’m surprised to find a bull grazing away its sunny afternoon. Rah has managed to omit this small piece of local knowledge. Apparently the bull was found wandering the streets of Machans Beach shortly after a massive cyclone hit! According to the locals it didn’t appear to come from Australian land.
The afternoon easterly settles in and brings with it a sense of calm. We all submit to the breeze and use the time to do our own thing until nightfall.