My Favorite Beach in Oz
If ever there was a time when I felt like I was in Oz, it was driving through the south of WA (Western Australia). Bright yellow flowers blanketed the hills, leading us towards the Emerald City…or in our case Esperance. With time running faster by the day, we skipped the vineyards south of Perth and cut east.
Esperance was a quiet town with pretty sea views and a prim shore park with all the markings of a progressive city. We spent the day at the park overlooking the bay, under the picnic table shelters. People flowed in and out, visiting a collection of resident food trucks. Looci worked on some of her orders and I caught up with my blog…well mostly.
We spent the night in a free camp forty-five minutes outside the city. It was an odd place, on the edge of a football field and eerily vacant. Still the toilets flushed and there were minimal spiders. In the morning we rushed to Lucky Bay in Cape Le Grand National Park.
The beach was known for its kangaroos, though I only saw a couple foraging in the early morning haze. Broken clouds filled the skies, promising to dissipate as the sunlight increased its fervor. Yet even in the dusty light, Lucky Bay was undeniably beautiful. The waves were completely transparent, not even the sand dared enter their crystal arches; and the color was so beautiful that it made your heart ache.
By the time our bellies were full of breakfast the sun had claimed the day. We strolled down the white sands, walking in the stability left by the recent waves; and all the while my eyes lingered on the flowing jewel beside me.
Looci settled in to read once we had cleared the occupied portion of Lucky Bay, but I was drawn onward. Gulls danced in the fringes of the tide, though sand crab bubbles were scarce. The breeze and sun came to a compromise on the temperature: forecast set to perfection. Two kilometers down the shore the sand was parted by a fin of red stone, freckled with the marks of time. A hike wove through the bush to disappear behind a low hill. It called to me, but the song of the surf was stronger. The fact I had no shoes, water, or clothes other than swimmers may have also played a factor.
As I sat alone on the rocks, the wind threatening to claim my hat, I felt something pull at my gut. I wasn’t ready…to leave Australia. I wasn’t ready in the slightest. My true appreciation and understanding had only just begun and in a week’s time I would be flying away. Yes, I had promised myself to return. Yes, I knew someday I would fulfill that promise. But in that moment and many moments to come, I wasn’t ready.
On my slow walk back to Looci, I banished the pain and worry, the sadness and regret. The day was too lovely for shadows and I refused to let the future tarnish the present. I began to sing, out there on the sands of the empty beach. I sang for no one but myself and I let the currents and the wind carry my joy to distant shores.
There were other beaches in Cape Le Grand so we said goodbye to Lucky Bay, which I must confess was my favorite beach from the entire road trip and went to see what else the park had to offer. At each stop I said I was going to swim but for one reason or another, I ended up waiting till the last, which was the dirtiest and overall least impressive.
Before going for a dip, I went in search of the toilets which were located within a campground, along with indoor showers. The camp was closed until later in the season, but when I turned the handles the water poured from the shower head. It was such a pleasant surprise that it was almost too good to be true.
The ocean was frigid, but once the numbness subsided, I welcomed its embrace. I let it wash away any stress or pain that lingered in my body, emerging refreshed and revived.
Looci went to have a shower while I collected my things. When I arrived at the toilets, she had some terrible news. The water initially came out in force, but after a few moments it died to a mere trickle. At this point I was quite determined to have a shower. So, since there was no one around I stripped naked and had a sponge bath using the sink water, which appeared to have a limitless supply. It wasn’t the classiest shower I’ve ever had but it wasn’t the worst either.
Over the next few days we would make our way across the Nullarbor, a giant expanse of windswept land with dry shrubs and no cell reception. It was strictly speaking a desert, barren and lifeless. The towns were like water holes threatening to dry up with the heat of day. The only perk was this wasteland existed along the coast, and the ocean had a way of washing away the monotony.
We passed into Southern Australia, stopping long enough for me to take a picture with a statue of a kangaroo holding a jar of Vegemite. I, of course, had to whip out my own jar.
As the sun dipped into the sea, we parked Hagrid at the top of a crumbling cliff and watched the skies blush with the ending day. Waves flung themselves at the rocks far below us, music for our dreams, as the moon rose high to illuminate the desert, bringing it to life.
