Coogee Beach

I spit out a mouthful of sand and disentangle seaweed from my hair. A wave has left me stranded on the shore. Wiping the salt from my eyes, I seek out imploringly for an apology, but it has already retreated behind Coogee’s flat horizon. Better not to chase after it, I pick myself up and walk to my towel, my head bowed down avoiding the eye contact of a group of nearby British backpackers giggling at me. I’ve never liked Coogee.  

And if its name is any indication, I’m not the only one. It’s derived from Koojah - a Dharug word spoken by the Aboriginal people who lived in the area before white settlement – which means ‘stinking place’.  Some say this is after the rotting seaweed that frequently washes up on shore, others after the surprise they leave in your ice cream at the Coogee Bay Hotel.

Either way I’ve always thought of it as a bit of a try-hard Bondi. The surf isn’t quite as good, the sand not quite as golden, the promenade not quite as grand. As a teenager I lived a ten-minute walk away but must have come here only a handful of times, preferring Gordon’s Bay around the corner.

But every beach has a silver lining, and Coogee’s has got to be its grand ocean pools. Spoiled for choice - five distinct spots all glimmering underneath the surrounding escarpments - I’m going to have to leave the sand behind for this one.

At Giles baths, under the archway and into a hidden world, moss green rocks peer through clear water. Grab on to boulders at the water’s edge underneath a waterfall of surging waves. Snorkel in the deep end for sights of majestic fish gliding beneath. Or just relax in the pool’s centre, basking in the fresh respite of the scorching sun.

Giles Baths

Ross Jones Memorial Pool gazes northwards from the opposite end of the beach. Situated under the iconic Coogee Surf Life Saving Club, two adjacent rectangular concrete pools tuck into a cliff face. Wall turrets project as if from a defensive medieval castle, fortifying swimmers from the crash of oncoming waves.

From these, cheeky children launch to land by leisurely swimmers, their parents dressed in matching rashies chasing after. Leather-tanned grandparents chuckle as they watch on from their camps on the surrounding rocks. At 3:30 pm the cries of the playing children begin to crescendo. An after-school rush means it’s time to move on.

Ross Jones Memorial Pool

Next up’s McIver’s, but they won’t let me in. Fair enough, it is the last remaining women’s only seawater baths in all of Australia. Going strong since 1886, I doubt that’ll change soon. Perched on a cliff face, well screened from the surrounding area, I can only imagine what goes on inside. It must be special though. From what I read the baths have long held significance for many women, all who enter greeted by magnificent ocean views and a respectful community. 

I find my own community further along at Wylie’s Baths in line at the kiosk for a frozen treat. From up above, on the timber boardwalk that hugs the cliff, we watch keen swimmers struggle against waves brought through by incoming tides. Warm sweat trickles down our brows in anticipation of our chocolate paddle pop sensation. A sticky affair, I’m soon washing off in the open ocean pool myself, remnants of chocolate dissolving into the azure waters.

Wylie's Baths

Ivor Swimming Pool

Drying off along the Coogee-Maroubra coastal path, past gums and rare coastal plant species, I reach my final destination. Ivor swimming pool, a small circular crater carved beneath the cliffs, is easy to miss. Don’t wander too far in search of it; lurking waves will pounce and drag you to their lair. A grim sign reminds of two who failed to heed such warnings.

I arrive just in time to float underneath the departing sun. A sky of oranges and pinks merges with the Pacific. A pair of affectionate dogs run laps around the pool’s edges, stopping to lick my toes that poke out invitingly.  I guess Coogee isn’t so bad. 

Total Beaches: 52/160

Darling Point Beaches (Carthona Avenue & McKell Park)

Sydney Harbour’s blue horizon peeks out fleetingly through gaps between towering mansions onto Carthona Avenue. Sandstone slabs carved in the gothic revival style stand between me and the next beach on my quest. It’s a residence supposedly so historically significant it deserves its own Wikipedia page – a gem in the crown of the Bushells Tea family fortune – with its own private beach.

But you can’t own a beach, man. Unlike the situation for our friends over in Europe and the Americas, the beautiful sandy beaches here in Australia are free for everyone to enjoy. All of them are technically Crown land, public assets for public use.

Yet, backed by four private properties and their lap pools, this beach isn’t quite so easy for us common folk to enjoy. With access restricted from the land I’ll need to hit the water.

Aerial view of Carthona Avenue Beach. Source: http://www.homehound.com.au/listing/withdrawn/nsw/sydney-region/eastern-suburbs/darling-point-eastern-suburbs/3a-carthona-avenue-darling-point-nsw-2027-4/

So, I scurry out of the avenue’s unpromising dead end twisting up to my car parked on the hill. My deflated kayak, still sandy from my trip in North Harbour, awaits me. I pump new life into it and begin the difficult drag down the hill to sea.  

Down through McKell Park, I puff past picnickers assembled on the terraced lawns of historic cottages above exotic manicured gardens. Down, down, I descend to the Darling Point ferry wharf protruding from a sea wall. The sprays of gentle waves brush against me as I cast into the ocean.  

First, I detour away from Carthona’s coast ducking under jetties to the west to discover McKell Park’s own “private” beach, a 20 metre pocket of sand wedged between an open boatshed and a line of waterfront houses. From the shore I enjoy postcard views of Sydney Harbour out to Clark Island, a former lieutenant’s vegetable garden and now tranquil picnic attraction.


                              

Soon back on track to Carthona I dodge flashing ferries and fishing lines to make my way intact.  A menacing stare darts to meet me from the shadows of an arched window seal gothic styled; Mr Bushell watches as he sips on his cup of tea. 

Mr Bushell's Lair & Stretch of Carthona Ave Beach

But as I drift ashore onto Crown land I know that I’ll be safe. Even the multi-billionaire caffeine mogul cannot deny my rights.  I stretch out my towel and stay a while, a win for common folk.

Total Beaches: 51 / 160 

Freshwater Beach

On a sweltering summer’s day, January 10th 1915, four hundred spectators swore they witnessed a mirage. The Hawaiian Duke Kahanamoku, world record holding Olympic swimming champion, was now walking on water. Having paddled out almost a kilometre from the shore of Freshwater Beach, in an instance he was on his feet gliding across the face of a rolling wave.

Underneath him was a slab of American sugar pine, taken from a North Sydney timber mill, and carved into what would soon become affiliated with beaches around the Australian coastline. 
For the first time the ancient Hawaiian art of surfboard riding had been introduced to the country. 

Duke Kahanamoku, Waikiki, 1910

Enthralled locals watched on in awe as the Duke performed acrobatic feats carried shoreward. Those who could break his spell rushed off immediately to have boards modelled after his, returning to imitate the skill and grace that they had witnessed.

Generations later and they still haven’t left. On any given day, the electric blue water of the small beach, wedged between two grand headlands, is filled with surfers flocking for the legendary breaks.  A statue of Duke Kahanamoku watches over them proudly from the shore.

Total count: 49/160

Smedley's, Little Manly, Quarantine, Store, Collins Flat

“You have arrived at your destination,” the nice lady inside Google Maps informs me.

Cheers love but this isn’t where I wanted to go. I typed in Smedley's beach, a small cove in North Harbour, Manly. I’m in Manly for sure but I don’t see any beach. Just apartment blocks to either side of me and Addison Road stretching out in front. 

I do spot a small reserve at the end of the road though: ‘Smedleys Point’ a sign informs me. There’s a bench to rest at while enjoying harbour views. A gated fence blocks a drop down onto jagged rocks. But there’s no way to a beach.   

So, I follow the map back to the red pin where the beach is supposed to be. An apartment block’s drive way seems to be leading somewhere. 

The ocean’s blue horizon rises as I walk down. A fence appears. And there through the plants that line its rails I catch a glimpse of a path twisting down to the golden sands of what could only be Smedleys beach in all its glory.

The fence has a gate: an entrance to my heart’s desire. But hold on. Entry comes with a risk: 

Should I? I’m so close. I can just run down. The beach is public; once I make it I’m fine.  

No. Sigh. I better not. I promised my mum I’d keep this quest legal. I’ll have to leave Smedleys for another day. Back to the drawing board, I’ll find a way.

I’m still in Manly though with plenty of pristine beaches beckoning to be explored. I’ve heard Store Beach is especially beautiful. So, before I know it I’m back in the car and the sweet Google Maps mistress is leading me afar.

She takes me to North Head where I’m to park my car. An eighteen-minute walk from here and I’ll be at the beach. Okay. Not ideal. But whatever you say miss.

The view from North Head

Along a neglected track tightly jammed in alongside the road, dust blows over me as cars zoom past.
“Turn left here,” Google Maps suddenly blurts out. Left? You mean through that hole cut into the wire fence? Okay, whatever you say.

A jagged wire peels along my back as I climb through. I ignore the pain and focus on my task at hand. Before me twisting off through thick bushland is a sandy path that promises a beach.

Pieces of red torn cloth tied to trees ensure me I’m going the right way. I carefully avoid a minefield of branches and shattered glass - bottles from last night’s party. I probably should have worn shoes for this.

Venturing on down the hill the cloth pieces are disappearing. Multiple paths are slithering through the bushes in all directions. I ask Google Maps for help but she’s deciding to be quiet for once. I sweat nervously underneath the 30 degree heat.

Little Manly

With regret I must turn back. I don’t want to die out here. The blog’s not that worth it.  I’ll just have to be content today with a dip in the turquoise waters of Little Manly, a short drive away.

I pull up to park on the little hill over Little Manly’s cove and that’s when I see it - a beacon shining out to me – a kayak gliding across the horizon. 

Little Mamly

Without haste I’m back in my car and racing off to the nearest BCF to buy one for myself, the cheapest I can find, a nifty little inflatable number.

Then before I know it I’m back at Little Manly launching off and paddling through the calm waters, dodging ferries as I go. I turn right around the head to conquer the elusive Smedleys.

Tilers watch from the houses above as I pull into my own private beach. I fill up a bottle from an outside hose, pull out a sandwich from my waterproof pouch I picked up from BCF, and lie in the sun a while. I’ve made it.

But I don’t stay for long. I may as well visit a few other beaches while I’m here.

On to Store Beach to share the paradise-like shore with only a handful of others rocked up on their motor dinghies. The beach feels completely pristine, isolated, untouched. I try and find where the path I was on earlier comes out.  No hope.  

At Quarantine Beach I visit a little museum that tells of its history as a quarantine station for migrant ships arriving in Sydney with suspected contagious disease. Other beach goers arrive via shuttle from the road above carefully avoiding snakes and bandicoots, while more disembark at the ferry wharf. 

Quarantine Station + whales / CC By 3.0

Then finally at Collins Flat Beach I watch kids plunge from the famous Jump Rock before having a little snooze floating amongst surrounding sailboats. When I wake the sun is setting over the water westwards behind me. I paddle on back to beat the night.  

Total Beaches: 48/160

Georges River Mouth (Sandringham Beaches, Rocky Point, Taren Point Beaches, Taren Point Shorebird Reserve, Woolooware Bay, Holts Marine Beach)

There are a handful of lesser-known and not-so-frequented small beaches on the Georges River mouth to the West of Botany Bay. Having to compete with the high standards of Sydney harbour and ocean beaches, these beaches don’t receive much attention. Some are a little gross, some a little dangerous, and some not too accessible. But they do hold a certain charm.  

As the George’s River hosts a great deal of small sandy stretches, I’ve had to further specify my definition of what constitutes a beach for this leg of the quest. I’m adopting Professor Andy Short’s definition of a beach as a stretch of sand longer than 20 metres and remaining dry at high tide. Professor Short is the former director of the Coastal Studies Unit at the University of Sydney and has travelled Australia listing and studying the continent’s 10, 685 beaches. If anyone knows their stuff it’s him.

Although they didn’t quite make the cut, honourable mentions go out to Taren Point Reserve and Tom Uglys Bridge.

Sandringham

The three Sandringham beaches are up first though. Around the corner from Lady Robinsons, they're pretty much an extension of Sydney’s second largest beach but not as busy. Picnic in the parks, swim in the nets, or waddle in the knee high water. Low energy beaches with shallow sand banks. Perfect for the family.

Rocky Point lies round the corner past the St George sailing Club. The water is shallow, the sand gunky, and the spikes of randomly scattered rocks must be avoided like land mines. Oyster shells at the shore make it difficult to enter but two jetties offer as launch pads to the river. The larger one is privately owned by a boating company and the receptionist may be mad if you’re not there to book a cruise. So I’d try the smaller jetty – just avoid the fishermen’s lines and you’ll be fine. I mean I seriously doubt people actually swim here but I survived so why not try it. I’m counting it.

Rocky Point & the Captain Cook Bridge

Taren Point East

From here cross the Captain Cook Bridge to Rocky Point’s equally pointy neighbour. At Taren’s Point two low sand pits converge. Access the eastern beach via Woodland Road past suburban driveways parked with boats. Ignore the sewage treatment system and a broken fence with ‘keep out’ signs falling off. I was fine after my swim. No deformities to speak of yet.

Taren Point South-West

Hop on the path, round past fishermen trying their luck under the bridge, to the beach on the south-western arm. This beach is backed by Mansions, a backyard for the Shire’s rich and famous (those who couldn’t quite afford a Vaucluse property). This beach is public though – as all in Sydney are. Stay a while; don’t let the rich hog our public spaces.

Taren point Shorebird Reserve

Swimming is also possible at the two reserves at Taren Point. At Taren Point Shorebird Reserve a dingy lays stranded on a wide stretch of sand. Footprints chase after retreating waters at low tide. Oyster shells and seaweed lay abandoned where the shore once was. Mangroves stretch out calling across to their separated cousins over at Towra Point.

Just south from here is a small white sand beach backed by the Woolooware Bay Shared Pathway. Sweaty joggers and cyclists look down in envy over white sand and saltmarsh as you sink in reprieve from the glaring sun. Float and observe migratory shorebirds come to escape the harsh artic winter, their holiday home found on the nearby island manmade by sand. 

Woolooware Bay

At Taren Point Reserve a much more narrow  shore backs onto shallow waters and a maze of row boats. Crawl along on all fours and hide in the jumble. Find your way out and perch yourself on the grassy reserve. Silence. Only the occasional distant calls of river birds break the air.

Taren Point Reserve

Across the shore from here is Holts Marine Beach. Come here to further avoid the crowds. You’ll be the only one swimming. Collect your thoughts as you walk out along the unusually long jetty. If you ever felt like standing in the middle of the Georges River, here’s your chance.

Tom Uglys at low tide

From here I noticed a couple families munching on burgers, fish and chips. Intrigued I followed the scent back on the streets to arrive at the world renowned ‘Pauls Famous Burgers’ situated on the Princes Highway.

I only had $4.50 on me though so I had to settle for small chips; but with just the right amount of chicken salt and a satisfying crunch I wasn’t mad. I will have to come back for a burger though. I hear they’re pretty good. 

Down a small hill from here you can enjoy your feed from Pauls and a quick swim underneath Tom Uglys Bridge before popping on the Princes Highway for the drive home. Bob’s your uncle. Easy.  

Total Beaches: 43/160

Mackenzies Bay

Mackenzies is back for a limited time only. A hundred metres round the corner from Tamarama, tucked between the rocks, it’s only accessible every so often. Local legend is that it mysteriously comes out from hiding every seven years. The last time seemed to be at the end of 2016 though.

Although the reason why is up for speculation, it could be caused by the long term climate cycles known as La Nina and El Niño. During a La Nina phase there are more storms and bigger waves that erode our beaches. During El Niño., on the other hand, less storms and smaller waves allow the beaches to recover.

Whatever the reason, you better get down quick and take advantage while you still can. Head over early to snatch a bathing spot on the tiny strip of sand. Throw a ball to a visiting pup. Refresh yourself in the surf if you dare to brave the rips – but make sure to dodge the surfers. Take it all in. It could be seven years till you get another chance.

Total Count: 34/160