How’s your day? Blog 106, Coromandel to the Gold Coast
© Peter A Taylor, 30 April 2013
With his wave board under his arm, Rodney strode into the calm pristine water of the inland harbour. It was our last day of our break, the Tuesday after Easter.
‘Another day in paradise,’ I said with a warm smile of gratitude.
‘Yes, today I’ll go back and drift silently to hear the water swirl against the rock wall and the Tui song as the Pohutakawa are full of them today.’ Rodney sat astride his board and glided into the warm crystalline water.
Dozing in the sun under my straw hat seemed like the world was miles away and I wasn’t sick in this dream land. I’d swim like a fish and perch on the point looking into the magnificent ocean as centuries of myths and legends drifted over my feathers.
It was time to eat and now in Cooks Beach nothing was open except the beach store and she’d run out of pies. We headed to the next point, passing Flax Mill Bay, stopping to take photos of the sand. It is yet another little sheltered bay nestled behind a large headland where tracks from tractors launching boats were the only intention that people lived here.
It was over the hill and to the ferry crossing. A ferry trip to Whitianga only 200 meters across the inlet saves a car journey of 45 minutes to get to by land.
‘Two return tickets, please,’ I asked and offered my $10 to the old seafarer who piloted our little boat to the opposite shore. The jewel of the Coromandel, Whitianga has a population of mostly retired folk of 4,000 people. Surviving on the tourist trade and upmarket beach homes, this area swells to 40,000 during the season.
We approached the local museum as it promised relics of Kauri Gum fields, loads of ship memorabilia and information about Captain Cook. To my surprise the volunteer lady, short and generous of body and personality with black rimmed glasses, looked over her spectacles.
‘That will be one senior and one adult.’ She smiled a tourist sort of smile, putting out her pudgy hand to take my money.
I’ve never been called a senior before but did appreciate the concession entrance fee. We walked through a replica Kauri workers hut, saw rooms of settlers and half a ship, well the back end of the ‘Endeavour’.
We stumbled on to a lovely wooden pub with a water feature filled with scarlet Carp and walked over the bridge to order icy beers. While waiting to take our boat ride home after the cruise to the outer coast line, it was back to the pub while the Ferry Driver had his dinner break. Slightly wet from the wade in the long shallows from the shore shelf, we indulged in Potato wedges and sour cream with beer inferno of the outdoor open fire place.
One day at home to repack and I left to visit my Mother in Surfers Paradise for her 83rd birthday. What a treat to also see my younger sister and my Aunts, Uncle and cousins. It was a farewell lunch as all the seniors are ill with all sorts of things and I was not feeling too sharp myself.
On the tenth floor of the Golden Gate Building, overlooking the famous Surfers Paradise beach with the surf crashing loudly and little Rainbow Parrots perching on the balcony hand rail looking for tit bits, was a treat. Whatever window I looked from there was a view of the Hinter land, or giant palms from the neighbouring High Rise gardens and swimming pools for Africa.
One thing about living on the tropical coast is the fruit. Giant golden Paw-Paw as sweet and juicy served with Prawn’s as fast as your thumb and crunchy as lettuce, made a salad with spinach leaves, Coriander leaves and slices of Cucumber drizzled with fresh limes. What a delicious taste sensation like real holiday experience. NZ grilled Salmon for dinner, chicken and seedless grapes were the food I loved to graze upon. My family had done be proud.
To my delight I met my grand niece, an animated well mannered 9 year old and my grand nephew is now 12. They will remember me now as they are old enough.
This Gold Coast trip was a point of closure and significant. I caught up with my lovely sister for the entire time as she is Mum’s care giver. We sat on the famous beach one day having an early morning coffee. Since the last cyclone, the beach had been swept away and instead of walking on to powder sand, we plunged down a three meter drop with walls of sand held only by Mari grass.
Walking into the surf as waves crashed out a few meters away the water at 24 degrees Celsius was sheer heaven. We stood in the shallows splashing water up our arms and holding our shorts legs up from the surge of foaming water. Again the sandy bottom was clean. If I had more strength I’d have loved to languish in the waves as I have done on this beach on and off for many years. It was time to board my plane and come home in time for more treatment. I had not recovered from the previous treatment but I guess I will work this out over the next three weeks
