Winter at the beach

We have passed the shortest day of the southern hemisphere year which had got to mean summer is coming and it’s time to go to the beach, right? While not exactly balmy, after scraping off the frost from my car windscreen and driving through the morning mist, I found myself beside the sea and comfortably warm enough to parade about in a short sleeved T-shirt. My destination this time around was Murramarang National Park, just north of Batemans Bay. I’ve been here a couple of times, mainly because it is one of the closest nice coastal spots to Canberra, a mere two hours and well worth it.

After an early start I was one of the first to park up at Pebbly Beach, home to the characteristic sandy beaches, bushland and wildlife that is the east coast of Australia.

From here I took what was in parts a mildly strenuous walk through giant gum trees and patches of cool climate rainforest, cutting a swathe to the top of Durras Mountain.



Some website somewhere describes this as one of the most popular walks in the park and with spectacular views from atop, in fact it goes as far to say a photographer’s delight. I think the website must’ve been one of those niche sites for people who wear stilts or something since the vegetation up top blocked out most of the views and it was all tantalizing glimpses through trees and snippets of blue water here and there. It wasn’t all doom and gloom with the distinctive form of Pigeon House Mountain (named by our old friend Captain James T Cook) off in the distance.

My favourite part of the walk was back down at sea level and only 15 minutes out from Pebbly Beach, where another isolated bay typified the landscape around here. It really is how this whole coastline must’ve looked when James and Joseph and a few scurvy dogs sailed on by.

By this point I think I had earned a little nourishment and so I soon rejoined the Pacific Highway and headed to Batemans Bay for some fish and chips beside the water in my T-shirt in the sunshine. And then I sat on the beach in Broulee and read for a little while, distracted every few minutes by watching the surfers doing their stuff. And to complete the self-pampering I grabbed a coffee and slice of Hummingbird Cake (a bit like carrot cake but with diced Hummingbird… I mean pineapple and passion fruit and stuff) in the pretty village of Mogo, fuelling me as I rode like a cowboy in a black Magna into the setting sun.