Coast to coast

Another Sydney forecast of rain but the sun ends up delivering. So does the local Aldi store, where I buy today's snacks at a fraction of what they'd cost elsewhere. I'm off to Watson's Quay for a walk around the coast of the south side of Sydney Harbour and I hop on a bus to get there.

I do like a historic house and this morning I manage to find two. First is Italianate mansion Strickland House, which I discover right on the coastal trial, with this cheesy dog standing guard. It was built in the 1850s for Sydney's first mayor. The city skyline makes a great backdrop to the trail.

Today I have to snoop around because there's a movie being filmed, or maybe it's a reality TV show. Indeed, there are a dozen statuesque beauties in skin-tight dresses swanning about (Aussie's Next Top Model?). I move on along the heritage trail through gum-tree glades and past a beach that's clearly prone to unwelcome visitors.

Not far away I happen upon historic house number two, Vaucluse House, a Gothic style mansion that was built by one of Sydney's early statesmen. I wander in the grounds while someone somewhere is practising piano. It makes for a tranquil half hour.

Coming to the end of the Watson's Bay peninsula I head over to the dramatic cliff-lined side, nicknamed The Gap, and am amazed to see so many posters promoting Lifeline. It turns out that this is a popular suicide spot. Not only are there reminders of the phone number to call every 20m or so, there's a reinforced fence you'd need a ladder to get over, plus CCTV cameras every 50m. I mean, wouldn't you just head round the corner where there are sheers cliffs with no barriers? There's a wheelchair ramp up to The Gap and I ask this guy who has kind of paused half way up if he needs any help, because he looks really upset. I then get to wondering how a wheelchair user would get himself over the fence but am pleased to see the guy later pushing himself along the boardwalk at the back of a beach.

In the old days it was ships that ran aground at The Gap and there are still plenty of lighthouses, enough to illuminate the rocks from all angles. I grab a quick swim at Camp Cove, which despite its name is a family beach. In fact, there's a large group of schoolkids firing up the free barbecues at the back of the bay. Meanwhile the gay guys are strutting their stuff at the next beach over, Lady Beach. I just have time to grab some of Doyle's famous chips for the high-speed catamaran ferry ride home. 

I get a bit burnt today. It seems the haze conceals a very high UV factor. They announce this on the radio every day so people know to cover up or slip slap slop on the sun protection. Australia is not the nation of bronzed babes it used to be. I see more pale skin than back home. 

And I spoke too soon about the hair. It is worse than Thailand because I start out with hope and then the sun, the humidity, the wind, all get to it and I end up looking like Worzel Gummidge.