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: 47/160

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: 42/179

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: 33/179

Berrys Bay

An elderly man walks over and introduces himself.

“The name’s Sergei,” he says with a hint of a Swedish accent. “But everyone calls me Mr. Pirate.”

Today he’s in a mustard shirt and cargo pants but when he’s out on his dingy in Berrys Bay he rocks a full pirate get-up – feathered hat, eye patch, peg leg and all.

He enthusiastically shows me pictures of the last time.  Dozens of bass fish surround him. They eagerly launch out of the water and snap at the bread rolls in his outstretched hands.

He’s just as eager to waft on about Berrys Bay, launching into a saga about how the council tried to close the beach off to the public a little while back by blocking the road. A bunch of locals got together, wrote to the council, and stopped it from happening.  

“Beaches belong to the people - accessible to all,” he says.

I agree. Still, this beach is not the easiest to access. The small road off Balls Head Rd is easy to miss and there’s nothing to indicate that it leads to a beach. It’s nestled between Berry’s Bay Marina and Sydney Harbour Yacht centre; both properties exhibit warning signs of surveillance against trespassers. They’re enough to turn back the innocent wanderer unaware of the beach below. 

But if you venture just a little further down the road and round the corner you come to the dingy lined shore of Berrys Bay Beach. In front of you lay scenic views of the bay, Milson’s Point, and the Harbour Bridge. Behind towers a forest of red gum, cypress, fig, and blueberry ash.

Vines taper over the painted blue walls of a corrugated iron shed at the back of the beach. A rope tangles itself between wooden planks like a snake on a tree’s branch. Three chairs set in the shade offer a respite from the glaring sun.

A low tide today reveals bits of plastic rubbish that have floated in from the harbour. Mr. Pirate laments about party-goers littering from their boats. He instructs me that everyone who visits has to take a couple of pieces with them when they leave to help out the locals. A woman has come down recently in protective shoes and gloves and done a massive collection of rubbish and glass off the sea floor.  Still it’s never perfect. With that he picks up an armful of bottles off the sand, nods goodbye, and leaves the beach to me alone.

The view from Balls Head

I watch my feet as I creep pass bits of plastic, fallen leaves, and murky sand to dive under in the deeper end.  Sure, right on the harbour it’s not the cleanest beach - but who can complain about a refreshing salt water dip on a summer’s day?

Back on the shore another man in bushwalking gear, fresh from the scenic tracks around Balls Head Reserve, comes stumbling down. He casually throws his backpack into a dingy and pushes it out to row over past me and into the harbour, off to discover beaches beyond. I follow after.

Total count: 32/179

Cronulla Peninsula (Shelly Park Beach, Blackwoods Beach, Oak Park Beach)

Midday Friday at Shelly Park Beach, Cronulla. It’s family time. Toddlers galore. Safe from the dumping waves at Cronulla Beach, they gather seashells on the shore. Floppy hats. Oversized sunglasses. Rashies. Skin painted white with sunscreen layered on by protective mothers. The sun doesn’t stand a chance.

I venture through a maze of prams, umbrellas, shovels, and buckets, careful not to trip. A rare space opens up at the foot of a sandcastle. Perfect to lay my towel down and settle in for a snooze under the lazy sun.

Dozing off, but I’m soon pulled back by cries that pierce the air. A two-year-old is spitting sand sporadically. It doesn’t taste like she was expecting.

Mum to the rescue. She washes it off with ice-cold water fresh from an esky. Sliced up watermelon follows for dessert. The child is satisfied. The tears dry up. She cosies into her hooded towel to rest.

I am now wide awake though. With my hopes for a midday nap slashed, I turn my attention to the sea.

I edge my way past a wall of rug rats and their floaties splashing on the shore. Out in the depths, seniors are swimming laps leisurely. I fill the age gap in the centre of the rock pool, floating for a while in complete serenity.

Shelly Park Beach

But something else is calling me. Not yet the family man, this beach is not quite right for me. I crave danger, peril, excitement, and risk.

So, I’m leaving the toddlers behind - up the Esplanade, past quiet coves and rocky inlets, to the wild edges of Blackwoods Beach. The waves here are unrelenting and raw. This is what I came for.

I wade into the water, ready for the rush. The surf builds. It towers in front of me.

I dive under the first wave, but the next one swallows me whole. My feet leave the ground, and I’m tossed and spun. I surface, gasping, only to be slammed back down again. The shore fades into a haze.

Spitting out saltwater, I crawl back to the sand, my limbs sore, my pride bruised. Maybe I’m not cut out for this.

I sigh in defeat, gather my things, and retreat for calmer shores.  Back down the path and the sheltered waters of Oak Park Beach welcomes hospitably. I slip into the quiet pool. Its stillness is a relief.

 

I glance over to the edge of the pool to a happy, splashing toddler. Her tiny hands scoop water from the shallows. Her mother stands watch, ready with a towel.

 

I feel a soft smile on my face, as I float tranquily, safe, and steady. Adventure is overrated. This is the life for me. 

Oak Park Beach

Total beaches: 31/179

Curl Curl

North Curl Curl

A rock pool shared with crustaceans. In the centre a boulder protrudes: an island retreat. My legs, numb, eagerly struggle to escape the icy water. 

Southwards over Curl Curl scattered sunbathers dot the shore - a head start on their tan for summer. A few venture further to brave the winter waters.

The sun’s crept back out today. Apparently it’s reaching 24 degrees. Not quite like the summer heat but not bad for mid-August - enough for a quick dip.

Although, it is a little worrying. Whereas Sydney has never been known for its long cold winters, it’s hard not to notice rising temperatures. This winter has been warmer than average, with daytime temperatures the third-warmest on record.

And the city’s temperature is expected only to continue to rise. By 2050 average maximum temperatures will be at least 2 degrees hotter if global emissions are not curbed, according to a scientific study conducted back in 2008. 

The same study warned of the threat to Sydney’s iconic beaches, coastal homes, and commercial properties by rising sea levels. By 2050 they’re projected to be up to 40cm higher than 1990. Low-lying beaches will be the most heavily affected with every centimetre of rise resulting in a metre of erosion. Beaches like Curl Curl, Narrabeen, Collaroy, and Dee Why risk completely disappearing. 

These beaches have already been severely eroded by storm seas in the past. As recently as June 2016 a brutal storm saw king tides pummel the area. Narrabeen and Collaroy were the hardest hit with 50 metres of their beaches eroded and a number of waterfront properties badly damaged. 

Erosion and damaged properties at Collaroy. Source: Fairfax Meda

South Curl Curl

The same storm hurled the boulder into North Curl Curl pool on which I now sit.

I climb out and retreat to the warmth of my towel. The beach stretches out a kilometre beside me, the south end beckoning me for another quick swim while the winter sun still shines. The sand crumbles between my toes as I make my way over.  

It’s hard to imagine it completely crumbling away. But business as usual and that will be the sad reality. Oceans will continue to rise while extreme sea level events and storm surges become more frequent. Some vulnerable coastal places in Sydney could be protected by sea walls and levees but where not physically possible or cost-effective a planned retreat will be the only option.

I may need to hurry to complete my quest.

Total Count: 28/160

Cabarita Beach

The Inner West finally has its own beach. No more must you trek to the Eastern Suburbs’ ocean waters to escape the heat. No longer must you cook yourself in your car stuck in Cleveland Street traffic. No further will you have to endure the hours long 370 bus ride lost twisting through the streets of suburbia. 

The Inner West’s best kept secret Cabarita Beach nestled on the Parramatta River lies awaiting. Since 2015 it’s been deemed clean and safe for swimming. The polluted waste has been removed leaving refreshing water that swells calmly onto shell-layered white sand. Located at the northern end of the expansive Cabarita Park, it’s perfect for a quick dip after picnicking under the shade of a giant fig tree.

Source: http://www.parraparents.com.au/parks-playgrounds/cabarita-park-cabarita/

To be frank though the water is still pretty murky and the odd plastic bottle does drift by. And although safe to swim, it can be hard not to think about the industrial toxins that for years flowed through. Plus you do miss the smell of the ocean and the feel of salt on the skin - also the energy of crashing waves and views stretching out to sea.

On second thoughts I might just endure the Cleveland Street traffic.

Total beaches: 27/160