Well, isn’t the year just flying by, Easter already, yet I’m sure the days will pass more slowly as they become darker and colder. Coming as it does on the crux of autumn, Easter in Australia represents the last opportunity for minibuses of extended families to offload a plethora of camping gear including the kitchen sink at any number of beachside shanty towns. Meanwhile, one intrepid Englishman armed with a camera, a lack of sleep and a sense of fish and chips rides in their wake.
I spent a couple of days on the South Coast. Now that’s hardly specific… the South Coast here represents anything south of Sydney (such is Sydney’s egotistical position at centre of universe). So specifically, far south! So far south, at least half the car number plates said “Victoria – The

Heading just slightly north, I spent a little while at Pambula Beach on Friday afternoon, one of my favourite spots down here, thanks to the gorgeous river flitting its way through Ben Boyd National Park. It also has possibly the most active and well-funded Lions Clubs in existence, paving the way for numerous bushland walkways and lookouts across ocean and river.



Pambula Beach is like a little suburb of Merimbula, the largest town in the area, fully fitted with all mod cons yet never really being anything but immensely chilled. Conveniently it has a bit of a motel strip, where basic but comfortable brick and brown décor provides a cheap bed for the night. At one such place I dumped my stuff and headed around town before darkness hit. The town itself is situated on a river which, in one direction, winds its way out into the sapphire ocean



The next day the sporadic sleep patterns I have been experiencing of late kicked in as I awoke just before six. No problemo… pop out for an amble, watch the sun come up and get back to watch an hour or two of The Masters in bed. Magic (though The Masters part was pretty dull in comparison).



With such an early start, coffee was an imperative.

The coffee injection propelled me back to the Pambula River for the remainder of the morning, this time exploring a section on the south bank, from the headland of Haycock Point looking down to Long Beach and then down probably the narrowiest, bumpiest, sandy road to another slot of sand and shallow sapphire water. Lying beside the water, even reading Ian Holloway’s autobiography couldn’t ruin the atmosphere.







I think I mentioned earlier about this being the last big chance for the bucket and spade brigade, and so the last stop of the trip was fittingly on the wide golden beach at Tathra. The sun was clinging on for dear life and with a water temperature probably around 19C I was able to get my feet wet for one last time before it cools even further. While dips in the water may be put on hold, thankfully we have coffee and caramel slices to console ourselves, and little nana naps to the sound of waves to refresh us ready for long drives over mountains, through tumultuous thunderstorms and back to the bright lights of the capital city. And to add extra comfort, we can finish the day with a nice hot chocolate to warm the heart in the heart of the heart of the nation. Happy Easter y’all.

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