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.
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.
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.
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