The pleasures of Bar Beach North (Narooma) come from its layering: the wriggly tree trunks on the hill in the background; the slice of road; the cloud-catching spiky wetlands; the extensive back dunes; the beach with its story of flood and high seas; the curling waves; the lowering clouds; and the faint echo of the past.
I stop at the wetlands, gleaming in the morning light. I spot a gangly moorhen, with its copper sulphate blue chest and red beak; a few ducks; a white crane; and two black swans. The sandy track is inviting, winding between the croaking of frogs; the persistent sound of the surf; and the chirping of busy small birds. The air is heavy with perfume, the source of which I can’t locate, although the dune wattle is the likeliest suspect. Banksias, coastal rosemary, the tiny furry flowers of monotoca, the fluoro purple-pink of pigface, and a mauve sand-flower complete today’s botanical assemblage.
The rockface patterns continue to draw my eye. I’m hoping that a serious perusal of Geology for dummies will begin to give me some insight into the earth-processes at play, and also explain why every bit of rockface I encounter in this 30 kilometres of coastline looks very different from its neighbours less than a kilometre away.
As I walk back along the beach I can see the breakwater, and all the sea-wrack piled on the beach after recent flooding and heavy seas, including pumice, legacy of an underwater eruption far out to sea.
If we could transport ourselves back to the late nineteenth century, we’d possibly see the Bettini family rowing down the inlet to do their washing in the spring at the southern end of the wetlands. We’d hear the hammering from the four shipyards in the inlet, or the sound of picks quarrying rock for training walls to tame the sea at its entrance. However, the only presence today, apart from mine, is a man walking his gallolopy dog.
For Gilly, who liked mangrove pneumatophores
Top 2: monotoca. Bottom left: coastal rosemary. Bottom right: sand flower
For the taste of history I’m indebted again to Laurelle Pacey, local historian and journalist. This time my source was her Coastal Reserves Dalmeny – North Narooma: Historical Review
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I too love the stand of trees with bleached limbs. I also love the rocks, especially those which have eroded into a kind of irregular honeycomb and those with veins of deep blue. Try Googling Eurobodalla geology and you might find a bit more information about the wider area including Potato Point. Can hardly wait to share the fruits of your practised eye when we venture out with our cameras next month.
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I need you as my content editor. It is indeed limbs, not just trunks, that make that stand of trees so attractive.
I tried googling Eurobodalla geology and came up with wonderful stuff in the area – just not Potato Point. Profound thanks. You’ll hear more. You are a great researcher and an expert googler.
My practised eye? We’ll work well together, and you’ll raise the bar.
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Sensory pleasures indeed. I was waiting to see the gangly moorhen and the fluoro purple-pink of pigface, but I’ll forgive you since you provided beautiful images of the wetlands and the rocks. Geology for dummies? Really?
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You got the pig face last week, and you know what I’m like with birds! Why not geology for dummies? I know nothing, and when I googled Potato Point geology the first page came up with two of my blog posts, so that hardly furthered my knowledge. It was an unexpectedly pleasurable walk – last time the wetlands weren’t so wet. I’m glad you share my pleasure in rocks and their patterns.
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I always share your pleasure in the rocks and the patterns. I am just surprised that there IS a book called Geology for dummies! I shall go back and look for the pig face 😀
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Thank you, thank you, they are absolutely glorious and inspiring. Can I use them for a haiku next week if I credit you? I love them ❤ All these pictures are great, the big wide seascape where the sandy paths and plants seem to mirror the sky is gorgeous, and of course the rock close ups. I can smell the air and hear the frogs as well as those noisy waves you've captured. The first of the two tree shots is another beauty, so much to love in this post Meg x:-)x
p.s. I saw this on my phone when I was at work this morning and couldn't wait to see it at home !
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Your enthusiasm for this post is a tonic. I was just beginning to wonder what my beach series had to offer anyone other than myself. Of course you can use the photos – an honour, and I’m glad I read you aright by thinking you’d like them. Those trees have always delighted me: if I weren’t paranoid about ticks I’d like to take my hiking stick for a wander along that track amongst them.
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Spring is certainly here with the flowering of the local natives.
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And of course I didn’t take my flower camera. Rain was threatening and it’s too big to tuck up my jumper!
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We do treasure our cameras don’t we???
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Amazing sensory chronicle of your adventure on the beach.
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