Sunday, 4th June 2000

No words that can truly convey the beauty that I saw on this day. I am not sure that pictures can do it either - they are not living, moving things, just grabs of scenes frozen in time.

The day began on the run, and pretty much continued that way all day. I awoke from a pleasant dream in time for sunrise and dragged clothes on over my pjs (*noone* in the history of mankind has ever gotten dressed so fast!), then hair uncombed and coat tails flying, I ran down to the edge of Bottom Lake (yes, on my crook ankle - hurt no more than when I walked....). Sunrise was oranges and golds, as you can see above. Unfortunately, the sun rose behind clouds, so I couldn't get shots of that lovely golden viscous (Discworld) light hitting the trees and grasses.

Next on the list to visit was the Heathland Walk. I drove up there (ok, it was only 2km away but my ankle hurt) and found that the start of the walk is through pleasant woodlands - not exactly heath, but quite pretty nonetheless. After a couple of hundred metres (and after surprising a man who thought that noone would come across him having a pee...), the ecosystem changed to banksia heathland between 1-2m high, then to full-on heathland, less than a metre high. I am told that the heath was not in full flower - for that I have to wait until September or October. For an ecosystem not in full bloom, it was very very pretty - again wattles, epacris and banksias were in flower. Unfortunately, it doesn't photograph well. I think I'll have to go back later in the year to see how spectacular is the spring flower season.

The Heathland Walk quite obviously ends at the beach. I took a stroll along the beach. The track notes said that there was a sand blowout not far along and that I might need to do a rock scramble if the tide was in. Sounded like good fun to me.

The tide, as it turned out was most definately in. So very in that I had to time my scrabble up the rocks in between waves. Then on the other side, the water was persistently surrounding the rocks, and I was danged if I was taking off my shoes and socks and unwrapping my carefully bandaged ankle, then jumping about 6 feet down the rocks into water (if nothing else, how was I going to get back up again???). The water temperature at Merimbula was 16 degrees Celcius, but I had already touched the water here, and I reckon it was about refrigerator temperature. Instead of investigating the sand blow out, I decided that discretion is the better part of valour and collected a whole heap of pretty sponges instead (and took a pic of them), and took a pic of a fan-type sponge that was the size of my head - that's it below. That is one big sponge...

I walked back to the car and drove on down to Betka River. It seemed a pretty place, and I thought I had it all to myself when I stopped there. Suddenly, a couple showed up and then a man with his grandkids (I hope they were the grandkids), and it was time to move on. Noone seemed to be around at the point where the track splits - one to the beach, the other heads off to Shipwreck Creek, a pretty place and camping spot 45 minutes drive away on rough track. Nup, no more rough track. I reckoned this would do. And do it did. I had two whole beaches (and probably more) to myself. The track down the cliffs to the beach was great - it seemed obvious at first, but then it reached the level of the creek and sorta disappeared into the creek. I had to creep around the edge - I still didn't want to take off my shoes - through the scrub. OK, I broke some branches but they were dead anyway and they were being indelicate with my tracky pants. I may have been alone, but running around the beach in my knickers just didn't appeal to me.

A beach all for me! A person and their dog had been there earlier but had left. Beach all for me! Two beaches all for me! The sun was shining, the wind was decreasing (ie no longer blowing a gale on the coast) and everything looked wonderful. I rockhopped (poorly) around the little headland to the next beach, crossed another creek (each beach seemed to have its own little creek), wandered around, and should have gone on to the next beach so that all three of me (me, myself and I) could have their own beach. On trying to return to the car, I discovered another path that went straight up a slippery half-cliff - no need to break more bushes to get back to my car. I'd prefer to tempt the fate that governs climbers than the one trying to make me fall into the creek. I had come pretty close to landing in the drink when the bushes decided that they would like to wear my pants....and the cliff was steep but fun.

In the afternoon, after lunch, I visited Double Creek nature walk. It wanders along a creek valley and the sheltered south-facing gully. It was very damp and moist there, quite chilly actually. I don't think I have seen so many different types of fungi in my life. Tiny white, yellow, brown and/or black cap fungi, red threads, yellow threads, bracket fungi, fluffy layered fungi, little tiny orange spots on the ground fungi, cap fungi in reds and oranges and browns and an unhealthy looked shade of bluish-yellow....more than you could poke a stick at, and more than I could photograph. I've allowed njh to put my pics up on his fungi site (let's share fungi, njh! ;-), and I'll get the url RSN for any fungi fiends out there :).

My ankle was feeling pretty good, so I decided to walk the 6km round trip to Captain Creek jetty. The walk down there felt like it was 10 miles, not three km, but I guess I was stopping and taking pictures so often that it sorta drew the time out. More flora was in flower, there were more fungi and it was all set in woodlands of eucalypts and old man banksias. Very scenic.

After walking for what seemed like forever (even vowing that if I didn't get to the end of the track in less than 10 minutes I would turn back), I finally reached the jetty, and boy, am I glad that I didn't give up and walk back to the car. I scared off half a dozen cormorants and shags (they like perching on the boat mooring points and watching the water for fish) as I walked up - they are shy birds.

The waters of the Double Creek arm of Top Lake were almost mirror smooth. Imagine a mirror with a few horizontal faults and that is how still the water was. Or you can look at the pics below. Your choice. With the sun out and the lightest breath of breeze, it was gorgeous. Very still, very calm and very restive. I could have stayed there forever, well, whilst it stayed like that. I took in the scenery for about 20 minutes then stirred myself and walked back to the car.

Everything I looked at was so very pretty. My travel commentary has the little note: "Leaving will be v. hard." Why would anyone want to live in suburbia and go to work if they could do this instead? Unfortunately there is this thing called money....

I had a quick trip to the Narrows, which aren't really narrow then dropped back to the hostel to have a little rest and read of the paper, when I suddenly noticed golden light. The sun was setting? But it was only 4:30! Quick, Lynne, the camera! Down to the favoured sunset spot! More pictures! So very beautiful. Very peaceful. It was like the stillness had poured into me, leaving me calm yet so very full. I was being rather than thinking and yammering all the time.

Later I did a bit more starspotting. The sky was very clear, again, and it was very cold, again. The lighthouse at Gabo Island has a flash cycle of roughly 13-14 seconds darkness, then three flashes at 3 seconds apart, just in case you need to know - one never knows when one might be transported around the planet and dumped near a lighthouse. Of course it is an unlikely occurrence, but one should be prepared! ;-) There was a huge thunderstorm to the south - the lightning from it was lighting up the southern sky on occasion. Either that or it was the aurora australis, but it only seemed to be coming from the one location, behind a B-I-I-I-G cloud, not rippling across the sky as I am told auroras are wont.

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Dr Bunny's trip to Merimbula and Mallacoota/email me/last modified 30th June 2000.