M is the mile or two between Skenes Creek – magnificent waves curving into beaches before green hills every moment – and Apollo Bay. Old milestones of another moment were souvenired for someone’s backyard monument. M is the mind, mulling alternative plans this September now no tourist buses and cars of schoolchildren multitudinously mill, business a trickle. M is the mile of Ocean Road at Wye River where Christmas fires left hillsides vulnerable to flood, landslides coming down everywhere, the Road splitting and edging into the sea. M is the mounds of uprooted ashen earth that have closed the Road, stopping everything.