Port Macquerie

Written 6/12/11

How different is a New South Wales seaside resort to those at home in England. After Sydney's at best indifferent weather, Port Macquerie was bright and on the whole sunny. The shorts that i had brought to Australia finally made their way out of the suitcase. There were still seagulls, but also pelicans who seemed to target our white car at regular intervals.

The town was well planned, the beaches wre sandy and wide, but it was what was missing no tacky souvenirs, no amusement arcades and no overt drunkenness.

The highlight of our stay was a Sunday afternoon river cruise on the Hastings river. Sitting on the upper deck, watching the river flow into the sea. Good fortunate in that we had the chance to see a Sea Eagle perched in a tree, on the return trip this bird was joined by its partner. A spectacular sighting.

On Monday morning I set out to accomplish something that I had long wanted to do. For some months off and on I've been running, before the summer at this gym, now was the chance to run on a beach. I'd hoped for a warm morning, but sadly I was again let down. I set off soon after 6am, but the wind blew and the beach was near deserted but for around a dozen brave surfers in wet suits who took on the waves on Town Beach.

As the waves crashed against the break waters I started to appreciate the skill of the surfer. I grew up in inner city London,I can count the number of times I visited the local swimming pool on the fingers of one hand. As I watched the surfers I thought that if I'd grown up in Australia how much more likely it would have been for me to have developed a more positive relationship to swimming and water in general. As a 58 year old who can manage little more than a width in a swimming pool, I looked on in admiration of those who go out on boards to take on the waves. Growing up in London offered me many advantages, surfing wasn't one of them.