Blackie's is my son's usual surfing beach. You can launch yourself into the rip of the rocks, and get to that desirable starting point, out the back. Except that at the moment a sandbar has removed the efficacy of the rip.
From the lookout above the beach you can see out to the mountains of the Great Divide, a clear blue line beyond Tuross Lake. The beach extends along a sandspit between the ocean and the lake as far as the mouth of the Tuross River. When the lake closes, you can walk across to Tuross Head, but that doesn't happen very often. The spit is covered in dune wattle; and mangroves grow along its shore on the lake. The beach is not all that comfortable to walk along for someone who doesn't like a slope, but it's usually pretty well deserted.
This visit I only walked the part of the beach in front of the caravan park, finding plenty to please me in this short distance: rippling rock-patterns; a memorial plaque to a man who's “gone worming”, a macabre epitaph worthy of Shakespeare; vivid, almost poisonous, green weed on the rocks revealed by low tide; shells, crabs and starfish washed up by rough seas; the woven-together footprints of two walkers.
If you want to explore further, you can camp at Beachcomber Holiday Park, or rent a cabin directly behind the beach, complete with kangaroos. Not all that long ago it was primitive camping only, and I've met a few people who holidayed here fifty years ago, when it was paradise indeed.