Back to the beaches

Winter in Australia is a weird thing. Nobody is quite sure whether to hide away from the bone-cracking chills of 11 degrees Celsius, or whether to bravely soldier on strolling on beaches, waltzing through the bush and surfing in the combers. Riddled with sick girls, and living in a catacomb of a flat which manages to soak up the night’s cold yet reject the sun’s heat, our first winter embrace was the sort where your friend furtively forces frigid fingers under your sweater to give you an icy shock.

This weekend we’re fighting back, with the help of every one of Sydney’s Northern Beaches. Tamar discovered a beautiful 40-km walk from Palm Beach to Manly, which we hoped would be tame enough for achy spines and congested kids alike. And yesterday was a beautiful first day, weaving up and down between scenic headlands and gorgeous beaches. Palm beach featured a gorgeous ocean pool, and on the headland an “iceberg house” which looked tiny at street level, but grew and spread down the hillside into a huge mansion. Whale beach had massive waves bobbing with surfers (Tova: “they look like sharks”), a pretty, dead fish rotting on the beach (Tova: “can I stomp on it? Can I?”) and some glistening tidal flats we reluctantly passed by.

Then we climbed back up to the ridge, where we encountered the most wonderfully ostentatious and over-the-top house. You really had to be there. First we noticed that their three-level terraced lawn was actually a manicured multi-level golf course. Then we saw that the tiny parking area had a circle of flagstones with an expensive car parked right on top of it: a rotating parking space!! And to top it all off, their mailbox was easily the largest we’d ever seen, like a giant’s mailbox. We speculated loudly and at length. Does the owner hide in the man-sized mailbox? Do they turn around and around on their parking circle? Do they smash golf balls into the sea after a bad day? Do they cancel their mail when they go traveling for a year, or just let it accumulate?

Anyway, then came Avalon beach. Tova, eating fish and chips, mused, “there must have been an avalanche, that’s why it’s called Avalon. The waves go crash and dump water on people. I’d like to swim in those waves. And I think I once swam in that little pool!” Which she never did. Then a lovely trail, complete with clever geocache to Bilgola beach, which was the colour of a toasted marshmallow and simply stiff with seaweed. Tamar distributed prizes to the incredibly well-behaved girls: they got little men with parachutes, leading to hours of fun (and of disentangling string). We called it a day at Newport beach, the largest and most built-up beach of the day.

Today is perfect blue skies and sunshine, but Sophia and I are taking it easy as she’s feverish and snotty again, and my back is creaking like a mainmast. So we are amusing ourselves with Logo programming, Norwegian folktales, hangman and short forays to the beach (our beds are like twenty metres from the pounding surf, it’s amazing and slightly scary) while Tamar, Aurora, Tova and Zadie put in the miles.

Zadie rode in style all day long

Tamar has all the good pictures on her camera so just you wait

Tova and Aurora are the closest of sisters