On a steel-grey morning I pushed off from the mangrove shore of Weyba Creek on my stand up paddleboard and let the incoming tide carry me across the shallows of the entrance to Lake Weyba.

There was not a breath of wind, and the water was like a sheet of glass.

I held my paddle parallel to it and let the tide do the work, no wanting to disturb the tranquility of this beautiful place. Pelicans fluttered in to land, stingrays shimmied in the mud beneath me.

I took in the broader picture, between the volcanic plugs of Coolum in the south, and Cooroora to the north west.

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