The Arno Bay jetty stretches like a weathered finger into the turquoise shallows. Fishermen lean against splintered rails, their lines vanishing into the shimmer. Below, silver flashes dart through swaying seaweed. The air tastes of salt and diesel. At dusk, pelicans perch on creaking pylons, silhouetted against a molten sunset. Locals know this rhythm—the groan of timber, the cry of gulls, the slow pulse of tides reclaiming the shore.