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Sydney’s many superb beaches: from the crystal-clear, shore-dumping surf of Bronte to the squint-and-you’re-in-Europe Nielsen Park. These local gems are a gift to Christmas staycationers.
Further from home, we have the world-class beauty of Jervis Bay. It requires a little more commitment but it easily delivers an experience as good as any international flight can offer.
So it’s hard. How to choose a favourite beach? Perhaps I wouldn’t be doing myself a favour by sharing my favourite place. Then again, if I am honest, perhaps it’s not everyone’s ideal spot. There are obstacles to mass adoption and I think that’s the charm. Regardless, I won’t name my beach, though it won’t be hard to guess for locals.
Access requires exertion: a walk along a bush trail that begins the transition from suburbia to another space. The trail ends in under 10 minutes from the car, leading to a track that needs some agility. It is rocky and uneven, a goat track, creating another barrier to popularity. But that is the gift: this spot is not for everyone. Indeed, it’s usually just my eager-to-sprint whippet and I on the pocket of sand, no more than 200 metres long, nestled in a corner of our harbour, low and surrounded by steep bushland.
Michael Howard’s whippet frolics in the sand at their “mystery” Sydney beach.Credit:
Regular visits reward me with new stories each time. The sand may have shifted wildly from the day before, changed by rain or storms, or evidence of a beach party – a fire pit and a pink cowboy hat.
Some days the sand is pristine, but often the tide delivers the debris of city life; a sad display of the rubbish that finds its way into our harbour gets washed ashore. On these days, I do my bit, bagging as many bottle tops, plastic fish and baseball caps as time allows. The tidy-up is fulfilling in itself. The council cannot regularly rake here, a contrast to the more accessible beaches.
So, a trail, a difficult track and some rubbish-strewn days – no wonder it’s empty. But that isn’t always the case. You never know who will be down there. A small group of women, laughing and swimming in bikinis; an army drill operation with landing barges; or a celebrity drop-in from American singer Jack Johnson, with a sizable media entourage. His message to the cameras encourages us all to clean up the sand and think about microplastics.
American singer Jack Johnson, left, cleaning up this mystery harbour beach.Credit: Instagram
Still, most visits we are alone. When others are present, striking up a conversation is almost essential; it’s the friendly thing to do in this kind of place.
I look across the harbour, facing towards the CBD, which is strikingly close. I can be alone, just me and the whippet, with the hum and peace. I imagine a time before the city was here, and what it might have been like.
It’s time to go. A heart-starting uphill climb out, on the goat track. Don’t be surprised if you hear a lion roar, or maybe the call of a monkey, and you’re on your way back to the rest of your day.
Michael Howard is the art director at the Herald.
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