Bondi Beach

The sun shone on Sydney this morning. It promised to stay that way through the day and, at least so far today, it kept its promise. Better still, the temperature backed off yesterday’s inferno. It was still warm, but not terribly unpleasantly so. It was the perfect day to go to the beach, Bondi Beach, to be specific.

Allow me to start by saying that I’m not a beach person. At all.

I have no desire to get sand in my shoes or take my shoes off and get it between my toes. I know that for some people sand beneath their feet and between their toes is the epitome of the good life. But I’m not one of those people. Heck, I wouldn’t even allow them into my home with their perpetually sandy feet. Then again, I don’t let anyone into my condo. So it’s never a problem.

And sitting on the beach? What joy do people get out of that? Seriously. Whether under a beach umbrella, or particularly if not, after the first two to two-and-a-half minutes, three tops, I’m obsessed with the need to find an answer to the immortal burning question, “Okay, what the hell’s next?”

You might ask, “But what about going for a swim in the ocean?”

Have you lost your mind? For one thing, I don’t like to take my shirt off in public. That’s not a sight anyone wants to see. Believe me.

More importantly, there are creatures in the ocean that are out to kill me. Yes, specifically me. Sharks, poisonous jellyfish, and mutant goldfish would all love to paint a target on me. True, the target would wash off in the water. They’re not very bright creatures. But they’re ruthless and would continue their attack on me even after the painted target dissolves.

Okay. Maybe not the mutant goldfish, but you never know.

And riptides. Most people think they’re not sentient. But they too are eager to grab hold of me, drag me out to the middle of the ocean and drown me, have their way with me, or have their way with me and then drown me. The ocean is no place for humans.

True, I don’t have any tangible evidence, let alone proof, that any of those things have murderous intent against me. But that’s only because I won’t get anywhere near them.

So, you might wonder, why did I go to Bondi Beach? Well, let me tell you.

At Bondi Beach and Beyond

For one thing, the walking tour app and both of the guidebooks I use all told me it is a must-see. Who am I to doubt them? What’s more, if it’s a must-see I don’t want to risk being arrested, convicted, and fined or imprisoned for not seeing it.

Besides, there is one particular situation under which I enjoy walking on a beach. If it’s low tide there’s usually a band of wet, compacted sand that won’t kick up into my shoes. If I don’t have to walk more than a few steps to get to that band, then I do enjoy walking on a beach along that band.

Bondi Beach didn’t meet either of these conditions. A sign told me that high tide happened a little before I arrived. And even at that still almost high tide there was a wide swath of unpacked sand I’d have to collect in my shoes to get close to the water’s edge in the hope of finding a single-file-wide compacted path in the sand.

But there is a nice concrete promenade immediately behind the crescent-shaped beach. I enjoyed walking along it and savouring the view of the beautiful beach and particularly the open ocean beyond it.

Even if nothing is floating on the sea, such as a boat or ship, or protruding out of it, such as an island, it is still beguiling and inspiring to stare out at the vast expanse of the ocean. It is amazing to me to see the beach in the foreground and nothing but water all the way out to the broad arc of the horizon.

Think about that. Really stop and think about it. You can stand at an ocean’s edge and see out to where the vast expanse of seawater falls off the edge of our dish-shaped planet. I’ve never been to that grand planetary waterfall, but what a sight it must be to fly over it and the edge of the Earth!

(I can’t tell you what an immense joy it would be for me to learn that some flat-Earthers found this post and shrieked to their friends, families, colleagues, neighbours, and random passersby, “SEE! I told you! It’s written right here on the internet. So now you have to believe me!”

I generally lament some of the abject, malignant ignorance that exists in the world and fear for what it means for humanity. But I’m trying to teach myself to see it as an entertainment opportunity instead.)

But enough about that claptrap. My joy will have to wait. Let’s continue, shall we?

I went beyond Bondi Beach. There’s a coastal walk that runs roughly south along, you guessed it, the coast. The full length, or at least the part I walked on, is paved with concrete, except for one small section paved with flat-topped stones.

There are a few small hills to climb up and down, but they are not particularly vertiginous. Where the slope is too steep for a ramp there are normal stairs. So, we’re not talking about a rugged wilderness trail with rough-hewn stones for pseudo steps here. It’s very civilized.

The path winds past small coves. Some have small beaches. One, Bronte Beach is essentially a mini Bondi Beach, with fewer people, but compacted into a smaller space, so it’s more crowded. And, of course, throughout the walk, I had views of the ocean and the interaction of ocean and shore in a variety of ways, including beaches, short cliffs, and more gentle hills.

I walked for about an hour or so including short stops to admire the views. I got as far as Clovelly Beach, a long rectangular inlet with a small beach on the end. The walkway went farther along the coast. I didn’t. I turned around and walked back to Bondi Beach.

I’m glad I went as far as Clovelly Beach. It answered a question that has been troubling me for a great many years. That question that I hadn’t answered until today is, what is the word for “having the nature of a clove?” “Clovelly.” Of course. I would have probably spelled it with one “l,” but that likely illustrates my shameful illiteracy. That’s so embarrassing to admit.

Lunch at Bondi Beach

When I got back to Bondi Beach, a lot of people were sitting or lying on the beach or frolicking in or near the water. I, on the other hand, had lunch. Of course. (To one regular reader: I continue to make use of the lesson you taught me at Ravenna.)

I ate outside at a table that was well-shaded throughout my meal by a large restaurant umbrella. Said table was immediately beside the promenade that hugs the beach. I got to look out at the beach and the ocean while eating my fish and chips and drinking my wine. Life can be good when you travel. But enough about this morning.

Catch you again this afternoon.