Between Potato Point and Dalmeny is one of the longest beaches in the shire, the 7km long Dalmeny / Brou / Brush Beach, right on our doorstep, perfect for avoiding long stretches of the Christmas – New Year highway, and for providing J with a long walk on therapeutic sand.
On Saturday we park at Dalmeny, which is busy with tourists. In the camping area overlooking the beach men lounge in chairs, wearing only shorts, beer in one hand, mobile phone in the other. The lake crossing looks easy so we pad barefooted along grass to the stairs. We’re suddenly confronted by rocks, some home to oyster shells, and then a crossing with deep sand, in which I sink up to my knees. Since I’m carrying camera and shoulder bag, I seek J’s hand for balance, and we’re suddenly the recipients of “help the geriatrics” kindness. On the beach there are flags, unusual on our beaches, and a lifesaver’s kayak lying ready. People lounge about reading and acquiring skin cancer. Soon we’re past the crowds, walking an empty expanse of sand, at the other end of which we can see the Norfolk pines on the headland at Potato Point. I don’t take many photos, and post-process them in search of moodiness.
If you’re interested in Aboriginal memories of camping around the lake that enters the sea, the one that swallowed me up to my knee, read here.
On Sunday we decide to access the beach from the centre. We take the turnoff to Brou tip, and continue past it through gravel bed country and over savage corrugations which, combined with my driving, shake the bejesus out of the car. We pass the turnoff to Brou Lake and the spotted gum camping area, and find ourselves at the place where I used to picnic and explore on the way home from volunteering at Little Yuin preschool. At the foot of the stairs are creamy smooth rocks surrounded by pools of water, residue of the sea.
Despite a background hint of pink and orange, this does nothing to prepare us for the shock of colour that greets us as we head north.
This spectacular cliffage is 3 km from home if you walk along the beach, and yet “we’ve never seen it before”. This is becoming something of a refrain.
For Aboriginal memories of camping near Brou Lake, just north of where our stroll ended you can read this.
Meg, mention of Brou Lake and Brou Beach bring back many happy memories. It was the first place Al and I camped when we met up at Narooma, Al coming from Sutherland, and me from Canberra, long before we were in care in Dalmeny, Sir James it was then, before coming up here to St Andrews. At Brou Lake one night, a mob of kangaroos rustled past in the dry leaves, and frightened the night mares out of us! Prue
LikeLike
You have such a turn of phrase! “Frightened the nightmares” is a beauty! The camping area is one of my local favourites. It was packed last weekend, but oddly very few people on lake or beach.
To Canberra and back with family on Monday to see Dombrowskis and play at Questacon (them, while I had a coffee.) I still feel exhausted.
LikeLike
The marmalade rocks are superb, but again my favourite here is the one of the post-processed trees. love the delicacy and almost colourless shades here. I do hope you were gracious to your helpers 😀
LikeLike
I was indeed. As I was on Fraser Island, as I was in Warsaw, as I wasn’t when I was 50, and feeling my frisk!
LikeLiked by 1 person
🙂
LikeLike
Lots of iron in that rock? Did you walk the 7km? On the flat that’s a nice distance, with wonderful views.
LikeLike
It would’ve been 14km. J’s leg is still not cooperating, although he can get along at speed greater than mine. 4 km is probably the limit, even on sand.
LikeLike
And that’s far enough when there’s so much to see. How are you me lovely? Any plans made for Poland this year? x:-)x
LikeLike
Ambivalent about Poland, and in the midst of Australian family. Had a few disasters-that-could’ve-been-much-worse (grandson crashed motorbike into a tree; a tree in my yard fell over; I drowned my camera in sand and seawater when I fell over!) Yesterday, we drove a 400 km round trip to a photographic exhibition in Canberra. So life is full! I hope winter is not bearing down too harshly on you.
LikeLike
I was amused by ‘help the geriatrics’, Meg!
LikeLiked by 1 person
So many Aboriginal stories, Meg! I was looking for petrified dog but quite happy to find the writing in the rocks. 🙂 🙂
LikeLike
I do envy you the ready access (deep sand notwithstanding) to these wonderful beaches, Meg. But v. grateful to be in receipt of your extensive photo-coverage, though it does induce sea-longing.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It was odd to realise I’d hardly been in the bush since Warsaw, the day we went wilderness driving with our son. After all, there’s geology there too!
LikeLiked by 1 person
And your geology is so very fascinating!
LikeLike
As is everyone’s. If only we could dig deep enough.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, I think that’s what I was thinking. Ours in the UK is so much covered up, or you can’t get at it easily.
LikeLike