Tags
Coila Bar, Coila Lake, David Henry Blake, pine trees, Plantation Beach north, Plantation Beach south
Another glorious winter Sunday, J in search of geological certainties, specifically the identification of gabbro-diorite, I idling along companionably. While he chips at boulders between Coila Lake and the beach with his geological hammer, I walk the edge of the lake, drawing in the mountains in the distance; a pair of plump pied oyster catchers; prickly sand plants, red and green succulents, and thin straps of dried weed; and its slightly mucky edge with a thick outline of foam; . I note a sign pointing to the Dreaming Track and conceive a future walk along the 5 kilometres to Bingie Headland.
Then we head, of course, for more rocks, along the sand bar, which has already taken the print of many feet, avian and human. Coila Lake is an ICOLL (Intermittently Closed and Open Lakes and Lagoons), like many along this coast. It’s astonishing to think that not all that long ago (and I’m not talking geological time) the sea was rushing into the lake and that the monster sandbar has formed again since then.
Shells gleam in heaps, thicker than last week’s scattering on a beach south of here, which I claimed then to be unique.
I sit on a convenient rock, feet dangling, and note the patterns: plaits, circles, square boxes, bubbles, clefts, intrusions. and the blue sea behind..
Tuross is noted for its Norfolk pines, and we walk through a grove of them, past a war memorial and the inevitable challenged lone pine from Gallipoli, that foundation place of an Australian myth. I no longer regard the pines as invaders: pollen analysis identifies their presence in Gondwana rainforest, as it adapted to a drying-out climate.
We descend onto the rocks of Plantation Beach, through grass and along sandy pathways and look down the coast to the pine trees of Potato Point, Gulaga lounging on the horizon. The rocks here, whatever they’re made of, have straight lines of pinkish rhyolite striping through, straight and parallel. We have been preceded by a professional geologist, David Blake who died in a cycling accident after a stellar career investigating rocks in Iceland, Canada, Papua New Guinea, and central and northern Australia. His memorial plaque is accompanied by a ten cent piece, a geologist’s way of identifying scale.
Then it’s back to Coila Lake, a bit further round the shoreline, where you can look towards the sandbar where this morning’s adventure began.
Pingback: Jo’s Monday walk : Same river, different city | restlessjo
Just lost a nearly done comment!
You’ve been missing in my reader as well but I came to find you and to lap up this fabulous post.
The second photo is almost spooky, the hooded person seems to be skulking away from your shadow, there’s a story there. I like the just landed flying saucers on the lake, is it just me seeing things strangely today? Happy weekend honey, 26 degrees here, suits me fine x:-)x
LikeLiked by 1 person
I told J I wanted “sinister”! Title of story? “The shadow and the silhouette”. I had to go hunting for flying saucers – maybe it’s me not seeing what’s there! Happy warm weekend to you too – and Lindy and the dogs.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Did you find them? are you writing it? Flora, George and Lindy have gone camping, here http://www.wiltonfarm.co.uk/ I’m having a day out with Sue tomorrow – not our Sue though!
LikeLike
I think I found them. And no, I’m not drawn to writing fiction – although as I wrote that I had a niggle. Wilton Farm looks wonderful, the glade especially. Is dog-friendly camping rare in England?
LikeLiked by 1 person
I don’t think so, but tents aren’t really my scene to be honest 😦
LikeLike
I’ve got to relearn – three weeks of chilly desert nights in August. But, oh, the stars – and Jaś and Maja – and desert landscapes.
LikeLiked by 1 person
The Dreaming Trail sounds so full of promise, Meg, but any wander with you is shared delight. I seem to have lost you from WP again. I’ll refollow 🙂 🙂
LikeLike
Do you want this one for Monday? The Dreaming Trail is an Aboriginal Trail, 13.5km long. Neither of us are up for that at the moment. We’ll do it in bits. I’ve already walked the rest of it – in bits – over the years. Thanks for refollowing: I thought I was being snubbed because I hadn’t been commenting.
LikeLike
I couldn’t snub you if I tried. 🙂 🙂 Yes, please.
LikeLike
The smooth rocks and the stripy ones are my favourites, but I was looking for the oyster catchers!! I have still to find a shelly beach here. Oh, and this post popped up in my Reader just now! No photo either. Weird.
LikeLike
The oyster catcher photo wasn’t even good enough for indicative. I should’ve done what I set out to do and got a camera with bird-capturing capacities. Odd that it only just appeared – I posted on Monday, I think.
LikeLiked by 1 person
And disappeared just as quickly! Have you tried setting the camera to sports mode for capturing moving things? I have done that in the past when the grandchildren were little. Now I have a special setting for movement, but it was pretty useless for capturing bats 😀
LikeLike
Thanks. I’ll try it. A friend who has a much more sophisticated camera and far more sophisticated skills is still finding birds a challenge. Maybe you need a bird-specific camera
LikeLiked by 1 person
Is there such a thing? Other than a large zoom of course, but then that comes with keeping it steady, which means a tripod and then it all gets far too complicated for me.
LikeLike
I love those glorious winter days we get, and it’s always comforting to know when we have a bleak one that it won’t last long. What a perfect day for beach fossicking and wandering.
LikeLike
And then a week of much-needed rain. What could be better?
LikeLiked by 1 person
This is a beauty Meg. Love all of it. But I do have favourites: those stripey rocks and the shell kaleidoscope. It didn’t take long for you to immerse yourself in your home landscape once again, to the delight of all who enjoy your blog.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’ve never seen rocks so neatly striped. I think we’re going back there today, and maybe we’ll walk a bit of the Dreaming track, south from where we walked.
LikeLike