Just Maybe Life’s Still a Beach

Life can’t always be a beach. But for the last week, at time of writing, it has been. Shortly I am about to take a beloved canine, sadly not my own, out onto a beautiful strand – and whatever the load is that I carry, in these times of retirement, will lift off my shoulders. Between two capes, Table and Rocky, in North West Tasmania, at this time of year, on a week day, it is likely to be almost deserted. I may meet a fellow dog walker, maybe a perambulator or two, but now, before summer arrives, I’ll have it mostly to myself.

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Contrast this serenity to another beach I visited a few weeks back – Australia’s most iconic. People had, that bright day, flocked to it for the annual arts project that is Sculpture by the Sea; because a prince and his missus were visiting and because a taste of summer was definitely in the air. For me it was an exhilarating experience. Acres of supine exposed flesh was on display – young and not so young ladies in barely anything at all. And there was a glorious track to walk along to Tamarama in search of photo opportunities. Perhaps, too, that was all tinged with a little sadness that my own basking days were over.

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It’s beaches like the latter two that one of my heroes, Rennie Ellis, would parade up and down, capturing our country’s hot climate hedonism for posterity – and a fair few lovelies, unencumbered by bikini tops, as well. These days a man with a camera on a beach automatically causes suspicion, though mobile phone snapping barely raises an eyebrow. When I expose the former on the sand I’m very, very judicious.

bondi

Once upon a time the warmer weather in Tassie and trips to Mangoland had to include plenty of beach time. Looking back, it seems much of my childhood was spent on my home town’s sandy stretches or at friends’ shacks. That continued on into my teenage years – my first romantic kiss was on a sweaty day at Burnie’s West Beach. I ached to get to Surfers Paradise every couple of years – or Noosa; or Byron. And now I am discovering Sydney’s beaches.

But with age comes a change of focus. These days I wouldn’t swap all that heady relaxation and observation beside the briny in crowds of like-minded sun worshippers with my quiet walks with Sandy the Spoodle by Bass Strait in all its moods. There’s always a pause as we cross the little bridges over the creek; then usually more than one just to suck in the glory of the place and to relish that I am still around to savour it. Life’s not the beach it used to be, but I still can cherish blue skies and a sparkling sea. Now, though, for me beaches are for all seasons; ambling along them just bliss.

The article from Benjamin Law that inspired this piece = https://www.smh.com.au/lifestyle/spotlight-golden-beaches-20181024-h170y5.html

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