Goanna tracks and a tennis ball

How can I have lived in Sydney for more than six years, and in all that time no-one has once said to me, "You must go to West Head, it's magnificent."? In fact, until I started planning these walks, I didn't even know there was a West Head, just a North and a South one. Is there an East Head? I must look that up. So for all those out there who live in Sydney, and who've never had anyone say it to you either, I'm saying it now. You must go to West Head, it's magnificent!


The road into the park afforded entertainment in itself. As soon as I passed the entrance gate after paying the $11 entry fee for my car, the road blossomed from a narrow winding track into a wide, smooth, sweeping avenue lined with trees set slightly back from the verge. At one point it even had a shade of Englishness about it. Rest assured, that $11 is invested wisely. The park is beautifully maintained. A sign warned that endangered bandicoots were about for the next few kilometres, and I amused myself by thinking that if they were so endangered, they were unlikely to be much in evidence cavorting about the roadside. But then, perhaps it was that very cavorting that had led to their endangered status, as one by one they fell victim to the unwary driver. A large goanna had no qualms though about perhaps encountering a car, and stood looking distractedly into the bushes at the roadside before walking off in a very unhurried manner.

Goannas seem to be the opposite of an endangered species in Ku-ring-gai Chase. Although I only saw one in the flesh, there was evidence of them on both beaches I visited, with sweeping lines traced in the sand, bordered by footprints that gave rest to any thought of revisiting my encounter with the brown snake.

Despite the naysayers at the Bureau of Meteorology who forecast rain, the few spots on the windscreen as I drove up Mona Vale Rd were the only sign all day of any truth to their prediction. By the time I arrived at West Head Lookout, the day was gloriously sunny, and if there were any rain clouds about, they were hidden low on the western horizon behind the towering clifftops. Not only did I get to bask in the sunshine on the sand, but I had my swim after all, watched over only by a sea eagle gliding languidly above me. The water was bottle green and glass clear, with just a gentle swell helped by the occasional wash of boats as they proceeded up and down Pittwater.

I lay on the beach and thought about the last time I had been on an isolated beach. It was Australia Day this year; the weather was very similar, but my mind was very different. That day, the day after I had been devastated by news of my redundancy, was a day of healing by nature, of preparing me to start anew. Now only a few weeks later, I was thanking all the redundancy gods for this unprecedented opportunity to find what I had lost for so long - time. Time to enjoy the daylight outside, instead of behind sealed glass; time to discover parts of my home town that I didn't know existed; time to float on my back and marvel at the grace of the sea eagle; time to watch at the end of the day as two more sea eagles joined the one I had seen earlier, to dance in long slow loops above me in the fading sky.

At West Head Beach, where I stopped for lunch, a tennis ball was washing up on the shoreline as I ate. It was oddly mesmerising, and I was reminded of the Tom Hanks film Castaway, in which he befriends a volleyball. I thought of taking the tennis ball, but in the end left it to roll around namelessly. But I couldn't resist the urge to capture that encounter and stare at its unreality.

And it occurred to me to worry that I might so quickly lose this state of mind, and once again get caught up in a working life. I just hope I get to finish all my walks first, and remember to place the photo of the tennis ball on my new desk, to remind me of the day I watched a ball lap back and forth on the shoreline and that was enough for me.

West Head Excitement

Today I'm off to do Walk 4, to West Head in Ku-ring-gai Chase National Park. I've been looking forward to it ever since I completed Walk 3, because this isn't just a suburban outing. It's quite some distance north from my home in the inner west of Sydney, and I will actually be in the middle of a beautiful national park, instead of surrounded by civilisation. There are beaches and bush tracks, and no houses.

As it's something of a day excursion, I've had to plan ahead for this one, around my various other time commitments. So having last week identified today as the day, I've been anxiously watching the weather forecast. And when on Saturday, it appeared as though it might rain today, I was truly upset. But although the skies are grey, and perhaps my plans for a swim at one of the isolated beaches might need revising, I think I'll still be able to fulfil most of my planned day of walking, picnicking, reading and rediscovering my life.

Off to put on my walking shoes, with a nod to my friend, the brown snake of Greenwich.

There's more to life than work

Being made redundant for the first time is a bit like having your first child; even strangers feel they need to offer you helpful advice on how to cope with those first few tumultuous weeks. Everyone is well-meaning, and some of the advice is actually good. Such as the importance of exercising regularly.

But I could buy an exercise bike today and cycle myself into depression by the end of next week, so there's more to find in exercise than just doing some. Those of us who are used to the corporate goal-oriented world can find it pretty bewildering to wake up (late) in the morning and face a day, a week and even a month with no structure.

So I've found my structure in commencing to walk my way through "Sydney's Best Harbour and Coastal Walks", a book that I have had for a while now, and walked from occasionally. But now it's on in earnest. I've gone through the index, sorted the walks by length (starting with the shortest of course), doubled the length of the ones that aren't circuits, since there's no-one to drive that second car to leave a car at each end, and sub-sorted by grade, from easy to difficult. I'm sure I could make an Excel spreadsheet from it, file everything in folders and never get out the door, but I know about prioritisation, so today is already Day 3.

If I were to be a proper walker, I would of course kit myself up with an ipod, or preferably an iphone, strapped to my arm, wedge the earphones firmly in place and stride off grim-faced, looking neither right nor left. But instead, I look. And I listen. And I smile. And I think. I'm not sure what I thought about while walking from Watson's Bay to South Head, though perhaps I spent all my energy trying not to look too closely at some of those nude male bodies strolling with studied insouciance along the sand at Lady Bay Beach. Or worrying about the very overweight man who collapsed onto the sand at the water's edge as I watched. (How do you give CPR to someone who is nude? Where do you look?) But it was just his way of lowering his corpulent body into the water to wash the sand out of the multitudinous crevices....

And Day 2 brought the encounter with the snake at Greenwich, so perhaps I can be forgiven for not thinking about writing it all down until today.

Today was a quick 3 km turn around Cremorne Point, on Sydney's lower north shore. I thought I'd been there before, but it turned out I hadn't. Getting there involved the obligatory wrong turn around Neutral Bay, but I found Cremorne Point wharf without too many U-turns, so my navigation on the other side of the Bridge is improving.

It's almost a cliche, but the sky was clear and bright blue, and the Harbour sparkled in the sunlight. The path is a standard suburban footpath for the whole 3 kms, but apparently some people still need to dress in lycra and wear expensive running shoes to walk on it. In the height of dressing down, my apparel consisted of an old pair of denim shorts that are too big for me, a threadbare T-shirt, and thongs (of the footwear, not the underwear, variety). Oddly enough, I could still make it round the path despite this. I was surprised and pleased to find that, even though I was clearly lowering the average for the class of walker on the path, almost everyone I passed smiled at me, and offered a "Good morning".

If you haven't found this walk, and you live in Sydney, make a point of going. Shell Cove on one side, across the ridge of the peninsula and down along Mosman Bay back to the wharf. Kookaburras and clanking boats to listen to, many beautiful houses to envy, and a good cup of coffee served by a cheerful barista at the wharf at the end. The highlight though is the cliffside garden established by Lex and Ruby Graham, that overlooks Mosman Bay. Take your time, climb down the stone steps to the water's edge, and sit for a while to appreciate their years of volunteer work.

Next up, an excursion to the wilds of West Head......