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This is the last of the Eurobodalla beaches in the southern part of the shire – or at least the last of the named ones.
On Saturday morning J is going to an alternative energy expo – not something I want to share – so after I deposit him, I meander off without much of a plan. Idly, I turn off the coast road between Kianga and Dalmeny and experience the now- familiar weekend astonishment as I crest a hill and see an unfamiliar rocky coastline spread out ahead of me. A turnoff I must have passed hundreds of times, mind you, and a rocky coastline about 20 kilometres from home. I love the way these pleasures have been lying in wait for my declining years. At least that’s when I’m not thinking “What the heck have I been doing all my life?”
The road is flanked by alcoves mowed and spangled with dandelions and blue star-shaped flowers with minute maroon berries. Close behind the beach are houses, and the cliff-edge has been landscaped: grasses, trees, mint bushes, spectacular purple berries, and in wilder places, escapee red hot pokers.
I park the car in a dead-end street, and stride along the cycleway, passing a wooden staircase down to the beach, and side-stepping a pavement penguin with green-pebble eyes. My green-jelly eyes gobble up great chunks of rocky coastline, and the blue blue sea scintillating with sun-drops. Waves break and the foam recedes, captured by a current that sometimes carries it, an untidy white ribbon, from headland to headland. I’m not the only one who relishes the view: a sign warns that there is an $110000 fine for removing, lopping or poisoning trees between the house line and the cliff edge.
I pause at a lookout and read two information panels. One acknowledges the long presence of Aborginal people feasting on shellfish for thousands of years and leaving behind gigantic middens. The other one offers an armada of coastal steamers, linking the south coast with Sydney: passengers and supplies this way; passengers, butter, cheese and timber on the return journey.
I walk on past banksias to the point where I can see the coastline stretching south before I turn back. Joggers overtake – thud, thud, thud – usually in pairs: a cyclist pauses at a bench and indulges in arcane exercises; a family group approaches keeping slow pace with grandma on a walking frame; I murmur “G’day” to a couple wheeling a pram.
I go down the wooden staircase onto the beach. A small boy up to his ankles in the sea, shouts at the waves, and two family groups lounge on the beach. I head to the rock platform to the north as the day heats up.
The beach is rocky: long ridges, intricate lattice-work, ironstone dividers.
When it gets too hot, I return to the shade in one of the grassy alcoves, and begin writing this post en plain air. Then the summons to collect J. I bring him back here for a picnic lunch (dips, triple Brie, sardines, and corn thins), supervised by a couple of splendidly disrobing spotted gums.
Why is it called Josh’s Beach? A schoolteacher at Narooma Central School in the 1960s lived in Ocean Parade and his surfie students used to call it Josh’s beach after him. We name our beaches strangely here: after poisons (1080) and now after a school teacher. The name became official recently, and caused a heap of controversy. Other locals have called it many things over the years: Rocky Beach, Back Beach, Little Beach, Our Beach. Somehow, after a visit from the Central Mapping Authority, who talked to an ex-councillor, Josh’s Beach became its official name. It’s also known as the beach with nomadic sand – sometimes there’s sand and sometimes there isn’t.
Pingback: Jo’s Monday walk : Loitering in LOULÉ | restlessjo
Lucid Gypsy said:
That path looks rather civilised, we don’t often see ones like that in your photos. Lovely place, like the naming of the beach, is the sand nomadic because of the tide, or is it governed by strong winds? I’d rather like the triple brie besides the gums 🙂
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morselsandscraps said:
I’d share the triple Brie with you. Might have to get two rounds, because J may not be so generous. The path is about 10km long, from Narooma, mainly along the coast: this is probably as close as it gets to the sea. A friend who needs a walking frame traverses a part of it early every morning and it’s became a significant part of her social life as she encounters regular walkers, and even a woman who skidded to a halt in a car to say what an inspiration she is. I’d say the sand wanders because of high seas. But what would I know??
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Rosemary Barnard said:
Love all your photos but the tree wins.
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morselsandscraps said:
The peeling bark is stunning at the moment – and add rain for extra splendour: we had 1” at the weekend.
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Heyjude said:
The thought of nomadic sand made me smile. The ribs of rock are a lot like the ones found in north Devon though there they are darker. The lattice-work is very pretty, do you know what causes that?
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morselsandscraps said:
I don’t know so much, I wonder if there’s anything I do know. I would’ve thought erosion, but I’m not even sure of that.
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Heyjude said:
I’ve given up trying to learn anything new and just enjoy each day as it comes, smile and nod and look wise 🙂
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morselsandscraps said:
I can’t imagine doing that – especially the looking wise bit!
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restlessjo said:
Back to devour with my eyes. 🙂 🙂 Sorted the penguin, thank you! (told you I wasn’t concentrating 🙂 ). I love your beaches. No prospect of heat here, except indoors, but good food and company with a snowscene backdrop.
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morselsandscraps said:
Want my beach for Monday? This one or one of your choosing?
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restlessjo said:
Yes, I’ll have this, thank you very much 🙂 🙂 Snow’s nearly gone- just some grey icy mush 😦
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restlessjo said:
Basking in your sunshine but very distracted because it’s snowing heavens hard outside! How did the penguin get there? I shall have to come back to revel in your prose because I can’t concentrate. We’re off out for a Christmas lunch soon. Such appropriate weather! 🙂 🙂 Hugs, sweetheart!
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morselsandscraps said:
Snow eh? Warsaw too – a photo of Maja and Jaś walking through snow to school. I thought it was rare for you. As for penguins, they breed on the island, Barranguba, about 7 km offshore. Hope you had a great Christmas lunch.
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restlessjo said:
Wonderful food and nice company. They laughed at me when I put my hood up and went out between courses to try and get the snowy marina but the shots are nothing special. 😦
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BeckyB said:
How fabulous to discover something new almost on your doorstep, love it when that happens. Don’t think I’ll ever find a view as fabulous as this though within a short distance of where I am currently living in the UK. Another reason to get on with the move!
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morselsandscraps said:
I suspect one reason I’ve never visited here is because at home I’m within a block of such coastline! I still feel a bit foolish,
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BeckyB said:
Totally makes sense and definitely not foolish x
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