<p>My wife and I stood at the edge of the world—or at least what felt like it—squinting through the murk and sea spray to snap photos of a decommissioned lighthouse. Less like some beacon of hope, its white tower loomed like a ghost, haunting the craggy cliffs of coastal Victoria and my vacation prospects. We’d arrived at the sleepy Victorian coastal town of Port Fairy expecting sunshine, a pleasant breeze—and if not asking too much—maybe a kangaroo or two bounding in silhouette against the sunset. Instead, a spectrum of misery lay before us: wind that could strip the paint from a car and rain in erratic, bipolar bursts.</p><p> </p><p>Support this project: <a href="https://www.buymeacoffee.com/clippingchains"><strong>Buy Me a Coffee</strong></a></p><p>Subscribe to the newsletter: <a href="https://clippingchains.us8.list-manage.com/subscribe?u=697b31fe737ab9282f4ecbe7e&id=f2f2407031"><strong>SUBSCRIBE ME!</strong></a></p><p><a href="https://bit.ly/3CocQ73" target="_blank"><strong>Show Notes and Links at Clippingchains.com</strong></a></p>