Beaches, beaches, beaches

Aside from the fact that the sun rises from the sea instead of setting into it, which makes me vaguely uneasy, I enjoy my morning walks along our beach. The only lifeguard on the beach at that hour is likely to be a kookaburra looking for a tasty breakfast. Since most Australians live near the coastlines, they are dedicated swimmers. Every morning intrepid souls are doing laps in our rock pool, even when the surf is breaking into the pool. No wonder another name for the swimstroke we call "freestyle" is also called "Australian crawl".

Further down the beach, a group of swimmers, mostly men 55-80 years old, I reckon, meets at the surf club for a morning ocean swim. They swim out beyond the break line for a few miles, then body surf into the beach. I am in awe of their dedication and surf prowess. I am not brave enough yet to swim that far out. As they come out of the water, they nonchalantly toss bundles of seaweed off their shoulders. Ugh. Several of them bring their dogs, who patiently wait for the swim's end.


I can take a steep track up the headland on the north end of our beach to the next cove, Bilgola beach. Their rock pool is much less wild than ours, with the surf never breaking into it. The track crosses an area called a hanging swamp, with the same kind of vegetation you would expect to find in a level swamp. Since the rocks are porous limestone & it rains a lot, the seepage keeps the hanging swamp wet most of the year.



Our rock pool takes a lot of surf on a high tide/full moon combo, when it's not much good for lap swimming. The Bilgola pool is much more civilized no matter the surf situation.
















So far,the kids are not tired of going to the beach. There are hazards that they now barely notice, like the bluebottles. Today at the rock pool, it must have been breeding season for the sand flies, who covered the sign near the rock pool inches deep. Another ugh for me, but the boys thought they were great scary good fun.

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