A tombolo is a tied island

Barrenjoey Head is a tombolo, and perhaps therein lies its problem. Neither one thing nor the other; trying to be wild and separate, but forever tied to the mainland and hence to urban life.

It's taken me a while to write about this walk along Station Beach and up the headland to the lighthouse. For a start, I've been away, but it's more than that. The walk itself failed to satisfy me. It started with a long and tedious drive out to Palm Beach along the traffic-choked and red-light-littered highway that is Barrenjoey Rd. Then when I finally got there, despite the streets being pretty quiet on a weekday, I was still expected to pay $10 for parking. Now I didn't mind paying my $11 entry fee for Kuring-Gai National Park, because I like the idea of supporting the preservation of parks for all of us. And I'm sure the council that covers Palm Beach needs funds to maintain all their infrastructure in the face of the transient beachgoer onslaught that it tolerates every summer. I just didn't feel the same conviction that it was money well spent.

This is a not a good walk to do immediately after the West Head walk, because it suffers in the contrast. The lovely beaches where I had picnicked and swum only a few days before in glorious isolation were tantalisingly close across the water, as I waded through the seaweed that filled the shallows on Station Beach.

At the base of the climb to the lighthouse, there are two possible paths. I'd thought of taking Smugglers Track, but a sign at its base warned that it was a steep and difficult climb, so I elected to walk the gentler old service road instead. This is a pleasant climb up through the bush, and the path is undergoing repairs, so most of it is in good condition. Emerging at the lighthouse, somewhat short of breath, I was rewarded with what I'm sure are spectaular views, but by then I was strangely uninterested in the whole experience. I thought it unseemly to head straight down again, so wandered around in a desultory fashion. There was a fire on a headland to the north, and the prevailing wind was blowing the smoke straight back along the length of the headland. This created an impression of a ship on fire, which captured my attention for a while. Thoughts of naval battles and Spanish galleons came to mind.

If you climb the headland on a Sunday, you can tour the lighthouse. But I was there on a weekday, so had to be content with reading the signs instead. I did find the lighthouse keeper's grave, and was once again entranced by the curious word 'relict' to refer to his widow, who is also buried there. I have seen this word before on gravestones. It's from the Latin relictus, which is the past participle of relinquere, to leave behind. Our word relinquish derives from this. The first recorded use of the word relict for widow is in 1450. It is of course archaic now, for no good reason, because it seems to describe the state of bereavement very adequately. The person who is left behind.

My aimless meandering took me by chance to the head of the Smugglers Track, which is hidden below the Keepers' Cottages, and doesn't appear to be signposted. It looked pretty walker-friendly, so I started down, and found it an easy descent. I'm not quite sure of what dangers the sign at the bottom warn. Perhaps it's just a reflection of our increasing fear of litigation. Once again I shared my walk with a brown snake and a medium-size lizard, so it's sensible to wear closed-in footwear. Interestingly, the snakes don't rate a mention on the warning sign.

A generally unsatisfactory day was topped off with the discovery that the cafe at the beach had stopped serving coffee at 4.20 pm, and a nightmare drive home because a truck had tipped its trailer over on Barrenjoey Rd., blocking the only southbound lane.

Next stop Taronga Zoo (approached from Mosman), where I'm sure I won't be able to resist a visit to the new baby elephant before starting the return journey.