Pittwater’s eastern shore runs from Barrenjoey Headland down and around Stokes Point to Newport in the south. Along the way are a series of small, sheltered estuarine beaches quite unlike their ocean-facing brethren found on the opposite side of the peninsula. These ones are calm, quiet, and mostly secluded. Backed by bushland or residential properties and often accessible only by boat, kayak, or small street frontages, they offer a peaceful retreat for locals or the discerning traveller.
The first of the shore’s beaches starting in the north, however, bucks the trend, hogging all the attention. Sitting just below the headland, Station Beach, also known as Barrenjoey, is recognisable from its frequent appearance in the background of Hinge profile photos taken from the famous lighthouse walk. It’s got a far livelier feel than its secluded neighbours.
Here chatter drifts over the water from afternoon feasts at The
Joey - the old Barrenjoey Boatshed reimagined as a restaurant resting between
the two halves of the beach. Thwacks of golf clubs echo from the Palm
Beach Golf Course tucked just behind the sand, while the rumble of seaplanes
deepens as they descend toward the marina. Amidst it all, day-trip revellers wade
into the calm waters, their eyes following sailboats slipping out across the
bay.
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| Station Beach at its southern end |
A little further along the shore, at Observation Point, the views get even better. Looking southwards, you see the gentle arch of the next beach curving before a thin ribbon of waterfront homes snuggled beneath the trees. Mooring buoys and anchored yachts hover on glassy water stretching out to the soft green slopes of Ku-ring-gai Chase National Park on Pittwater’s western side.
This is Snapperman Beach, named after Chinese fishermen who set
up camp on its shore in the early 19th century to catch snapper for
the Sydney and Melbourne Markets. Today their camps have been replaced by beach
tents, hosts to families enjoying the calm, lagoon-like water.
Probably worth slipping off your shoes
here, because things are about to get a whole lot sandier. Around the corner of
Sand Point is the next beach, fittingly named – wouldn’t you know it - Sandy. But it’s what lies beyond the sand that’s
truly mesmerising.
A lush emerald carpet of seagrass meadows stretches beneath
the surface, providing food and shelter for a variety of marine life. Among the
blades, devious octopuses and cuttlefish lie in wait, scheming in their hunt
for unsuspecting prey. Nurseries of juvenile whiting and mullet make their
first tentative swims, weaving their way nervously under the filtered light,
while endangered white seahorses cling on for dear life, their tails working as
anchors as they sway in the tides.
Boats, kayaks, and windsurfers are warned to avoid anchoring
or dragging here, as the seahorse and its seagrass habitat are threatened and
in decline. But never fear, more hospitable, dare I say paradisal, conditions await
further south past Stokes Point, at - you guessed it - Paradise Beach.
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| Paradise Beach |
Approaching from the water, this one feels like a hidden oasis – a 200-metre beach inconspicuously tucked under quiet residential hills. Humbly it lies, out of sight, so as to remain a local secret. Only a handful of people gather, set up shop on the sandstone seats on the northern end, taking quick dips in the tidal pool after walks along the boardwalk. All around them, the water remains almost dormant– still but for the faint wind brushing ripples across its surface. Tranquil, soporific, blanketed beneath the shade of palms and gums, it’s hard to resist the lure of sleep.
To awaken from a midday doze, however, means more beaches can be found. Further south along the road, accessible from Delecta Avenue, I’m surprised the next one isn’t simply called Delectable -because that’s exactly what it is.
Straying from the naming scheme, Clareville Beach delivers scrumptiously perfect, calm, crystal-clear water along a languid shoreline. Stretching in front of houses and jetties, it eventually opens out in front of Clareville Reserve, where people settle in for a slow afternoon featuring the company of a book and some low-key swimming. An idle float is encouraged here, laid back with toes poking through the surface. Hugging the shore, let yourself drift in the shelter of a flotilla of anchored sailboats, their masts tracing slow arcs above gently bobbing hulls.
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| Clareville Beach |
The next beach seems, at first glance, as if it’s for the thrill-seekers. Historically used by the Royal Australian Nacy for testing torpedoes, Taylors Point has since been repurposed as part of an underwater-warfare training facility. As a result, the public foreshore area known as Taylors Beach is bisected by a defence facility. The baths, wharf, park and dinghy storage remain open to the public, while the middle portion is government-owned, fenced and strictly off-limits.
For anyone not wanting to spark the Navy’s ire, it’s best to
stick to the baths. Dive into a self-contained world framed by a white-railed timber
boardwalk, wrapped in the echoes of kookaburras laughing from the gums
scattered on the hill behind. At high
tide, swimmers glide as if out into the open water, the pool blending
seamlessly into Pittwater.
Last up and the naming scheme is back with a vengeance as we
approach the southernmost beach of Pittwater’s eastern shore. South Beach is
a small one, squeezed between bushland, the sweet scent of angophora flowers prevailing
over the salty air, the clicking of cicadas over the whispering tide.
With so many other nearby beaches, this one lies almost
forgotten. Accessible only by water, its life is a solitary one, accompanied occasionally
by the mooring of a lone dinghy. Its swimming enclosure feels neglected, a
single thread of wire haphazardly strung through crumbling posts. Yet the glow
of the sinking sun embraces it all the same, light lingering on the water’s
surface before scattering like diamonds out across the estuary – a lavish gift
to revel in as you close your day, here on Pittwater’s eastern shore.
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| South Beach |
Total count: 110/179
