Sunset Glow — Old cleveland Light (Brisbane)

After a long wait under the scorching sun and wind, it was all worth it the moment the sun set and the twilight colors spread.

Watching the sunset at Old cleveland Light near Raby Bay on the east side of Brisbane is where we come most often in the greater Brisbane area, aside from Wellington Piont.

Each time, when the sun fully sinks below the horizon, most of the sunset viewers turn and leave. Only we, along with a few others, stay and wait — if we're lucky (a lot depends on the weather and climate), the sunlight that has dipped below the horizon will refract into the clouds, casting dazzling light across the sky, the sea, and everything around — objects, events, and people. Within sight, there is only light, nothing but light, rich colors that lure you into a fantasy. In that moment, who can tell the difference between painting and reality? And who would want to?

There are also times when the colors are not so rich. Before the sunset even begins, you know it's just going to be a nice sunset, so you patiently stay in one spot, watching it descend bit by bit, lower and lower, until it disappears into the distant mountains.

Far off on the beach, a lone figure sat motionless from the time we arrived. I thought he would wait until the sun was fully down, until darkness fell completely. But he didn't. As he walked on the beach in the afterglow, he looked like a swordsman bathed in golden light carrying a precious sword, or like a contemplative soul enjoying solitude, striding over thorns and rubble along the way, heading into the night ahead, still moving forward.

If you arrive too early before sunset, there are also interesting places to explore nearby. With some leisure time, you can stroll around, watch the sea and clouds, pick up treasures washed ashore by the waves, and capture the beautiful moments.

The seafood restaurant on the beach near the lighthouse offers both full meals and fast food. The service is excellent, and the seafood is fresh and delicious.

In March last year, when the pandemic hit fiercely, Queensland's 5-kilometer travel restriction order came into effect after midnight (the start of midnight, so until evening, activities were still free). I came here in the evening, thinking to enjoy the sunset glow before being confined within 5 kilometers.

Before I even got close, I saw people on the embankment spaced out as if measured by a ruler, automatically separated by 1.5 meters. As I got nearer, I saw most people wore expressionless faces, a heavy, oppressive feeling that hit you like the end of the world was approaching, desperately seizing this last moment of light, breathing in the still-bright air.

Across the 1.5-meter gaps, everyone's face was filled with sorrow and anxiety.

The never-before-experienced oppressive atmosphere made that sunset, which was already not particularly bright, especially gloomy. Never before had a sunset gone from start to finish in such silence. People kept an absolutely safe distance, speaking in low voices and sparingly. Most were so quiet that I wondered if they were silently praying to the setting sun.

Let everything be given to the wind, let everything go with the wind.

Even if tomorrow never comes, today is still beautiful!