Travelling Pathetically - Coastal Edition

 They say that optimism is the triumph of hope over experience.  In an attempt to provide a practical example of the preceding my two friends who joined me walking around North Head joined me on what was supposed to be a walk from Clovelly to Bondi.  Despite the experiences of the previous walk I thought there would be an enjoyable stroll, pausing to take pictures of such scenery as presented itself while at least one of my friends envisioned a cross between a power walk and a death march.  The other friend I'm sure simply came along for the amusement value.  

Manly Dam is still on the agenda at some point when you don't need scuba gear to get around it but given the problematic weather of late we have put it off to an unspecified date in the future.  The problematic personalities will likely cause issues of their own.

Clovelly to Bondi is hardly ploughing through the bush.  It's an established walking path, fully sealed and occupied by tourists, locals and at least one obnoxious jogger.  Still the scenery is supposed to be nice (to be fair its difficult to mess up ocean meeting land as far as scenery is concerned) and if violence broke out between us rescue wouldn't be too far away.  

We met at Clovelly Surf Life Saving Club at 9.30am and by that I mean we didn't meet at 9.30am.  I turned up at 9.30am wandered around, got a coffee, looked at the ocean wandered around some more and eventually met one of my friends while I was wondering if I could decently leave before he arrived.  There was then more hanging around waiting for the third musketeer.  To be fair the late runner had the greatest distance to travel, he's also the oldest of us so it was entirely possible he had forgotten where he was meant to be going.  Such unworthy suspicions were put to rest when he arrived and promptly disappeared into the nearest public toilet.  The amount of teeth grinding exhibited by my other companion should have been a warning.

I had tried to be helpful by taking a couple of photos before the others arrived.  This didn't stop them from greeting the sight of the camera with sheer incredulity.  I couldn't have astonished them more if I had lit my cigarette with flint and steel.

A pre-walk photograph

Eventually about an hour after our intended departure time we set off.  Rubbing shoulders with a disturbing number of people (to be fair my definition of a disturbing number is now "more than one") we pointed our noses in the general direction of Bondi and ordered our legs to follow.  Some of us ordered their legs to follow a little faster than others.  In my defence I had pointed out that the whole point behind my going for walks was to amble along at a sedentary pace and take photos.  This did not generate a great deal of sympathy.  

The draw card of the walk is coastline, liberally festooned with cliffs and the occasional beach.  The sea was doing its best to be helpful drawing itself up imposingly and slamming against aforementioned cliffs with great gusto.  I paused for photos, dashed to catch up and paused for photos again.  My progress must have looked like I was having difficulty changing gears.

Again before we started walking

Despite my interrupted progress we were making what seemed to me to be good time, particularly since I didn't have any particular time in mind.  It is fair to say that this was not the opinion of everyone on our little trek.  Along the way at least two of us admired some of the houses we encountered.  I took a photo of at least one.

I'll bet you expected this to be a photo of a house

We passed places where people lived and encountered somewhere they definitely didn't.  Waverley Cemetery must be one of the highest rent burial grounds in the world.  My property developer friend shed a tear of genuine pain as we passed.  I suppose its churlish to expect good house keeping from the dead but cemeteries have always struck me as being rather messy looking places with headstones and the like scattered all over the place.  It's like littering done in stone.  I'm sure there is an order to the place but I got a definite "just toss the corpses in wherever they'll fit" vibe as I passed by. 

A cemetery, if you dig too close to the edge you may wind up with a sea burial

With the cemetery behind us there was nothing for it but to go on enjoying the sea lowering its head and charging full tilt at the land.  The weather was grey and the air was misty, these are the excuses I'm giving for the poor quality of the photos and you're just going to have to accept it.

Sea, cliff and cemetery, my cup runneth over

In the fullness of not very much time we encountered Tamarama Beach.  I realise I have completely passed over Bronte.  All I can say to that is that I didn't notice it at the time and I can't really say all that much about it now.  Tamarama Beach however drew us in.  Firstly there was stuff scattered all over the beach.  I thought it was children's playground equipment but it turned out to be Sculptures by the Sea.  In fact if they were any more by the sea they would have been under it.  Something I thought was a garbage bin may have been a sculpture or possibly a garbage bin.  I wasn't quite game enough to toss my cigarette butt into it in case I was considered a cultural vandal.

A sculpture by the sea or possibly beach obstacles to prevent an invasion

 

The second thing that attracted us at Tamarama Beach was a cafe; coffees and hot chocolates were acquired not without difficulty as the gentleman serving us apparently had some problem understanding us despite the fact that everyone involved was speaking English.  We sat down and enjoyed our somewhat difficult to obtain beverages and started to chat.  It became very obvious that we would be going no further today.

It is a sad indication of our increasing years that the dominating topic of our conversation was our respective health and the various issues we were undergoing.  Eavesdroppers were probably expecting us to keel over on the spot.  After half an hour of this conversation I was a little astonished that we had made it this far without a fatality.

The reason for our ending our walk here was that one of our number (not the property developer, the other one) was eager to get home and greet his wife who was returning from a sojourn on a different continent that day.  We expressed our skepticism at this but we couldn't shake his story and eventually had to accept it.  Since both my companions had parked at Clovelly they had to retrace their steps and because I had nothing better to do I went with them.  Along the way I stopped to take photos of bits of the sea that had missed my camera on the way out.

The same sea but from a different direction

As is always the case the journey back seemed to take less time than the journey outward.  We passed by the cemetery again and I waved in what I hoped was a friendly fashion.  None of the occupants waved back.  This is one of the advantages of being dead, you don't have to worry about social niceties.

We had almost arrived back at our starting point when my attention was attracted by a small bird.  Clutching my camera I pointed it at the bush the thing was hiding in and took a photo.  Dissatisfied with the results I took several more equally unsatisfactory photos before I gave up and joined my friends who after a brief discussion decided not to murder me.

Probably the best of a not particularly good bunch of bird photos

It was decided that on the whole if Manly Dam ever does rise from beneath the waters that perhaps the property developer and I might like to enjoy it ourselves without the input of the third member of our somewhat shabby triumvirate.  On this note of rare unanimity we made our way home.

Here is the house photo because I know you've been waiting for it