Seaford. Mornington. Frankston. The names live in my memories from childhood. Today they are regarded as outer suburbs of Melbourne even though these towns are up to 40 kilometres from the CBD*. When I was a child, back in the 1950s and early 60s they were a world away; a world away in time and distance; and a world away from ordinary life, suburban home life, working parents, school every day, squabbling sisters, set the table, wash the dishes, do your homework, into bed on time, and a bedtime story from dad.

Seaford or Mornington or Frankston – this was the world of four or five-week summer holidays in the sun at the beach. Freedom.

Every year my parents would rent a house with two other couples and we’d all bunk in together, six adults and ten children, the mums there full-time, and the dads down on weekends or longer as their jobs allowed. Us kids ran wild on the beach, our little bodies turned brown in the sun, splashing and paddling, building castles in the sand, screaming with joy and playing for several bright-shining weeks. I’ll never forget it. Freedom.

Another memory, a few years later: I’m sitting on the top bunk, looking out into the dark living room. It’s first light and the curtains are still drawn. The floor of the small room is carpeted with sleeping bodies. My best friend is still asleep in the lower bunk. I watch them all, taking in the dim light seeping through the edges of the curtains, my friends asleep on the floor, the silence.

Memories come and go, merge and fold in upon one another, like wispy clouds. I think I’m about 15 or 16. My parents have rented a small cottage at Batehaven for a couple of weeks, a seaside village four kilometres south of Batemans Bay, and my friends have come to stay with us for the weekend. I no longer remember their names, but I think one of them must be Tony, my boyfriend for a while back then, the same Tony who escorted me to my high school graduation Dinner Dance.

This is the only memory I have of being at the beach as a child after we moved to inland Canberra when I was 11, but I have plenty of memories as an adult. Every trip back to Australia included time at the beach, and this most recent trip (Dec ’22-Feb ’23) was no exception. But first we had to get there.

It’s a two hour drive from Canberra to Batemans Bay, the gateway to “Canberra’s coast”.

If you drive east from Canberra on Kings Highway you come to a geographic area known as the Southern Tablelands, southwest of Sydney. You’ll soon reach the village of Bungendore, a mix of artsy rural life, legitimate farming life, a few heritage buildings, and a fabulous woodworking gallery. Continuing on you come to Braidwood, the halfway point. It’s time for coffee.








It’s almost like wandering a movie set. This National Trust-listed town is like stepping back in time, with a quirky modern overlay.

The Albion Hotel, built in 1872, was a symbol of modernity at the time, and was known to have the best accommodation in town, and exceptional food. I don’t know if there is accommodation now, but it’s still true about the food. The dimly-lit cafe has a welcoming hippy playfulness that’s lacking in the merely conventional.











There’s so much to look at, and it’s such an eclectic but strangely cohesive collection – from a unicorn to dinos to a gnome head to what must surely be one of the characters from Wind in the Willows to a sign saying Solve all Problems with Love to meerkats standing tall – that the coffee and food are all the sweeter because of it. The vibe is real.

I must have been to Braidwood hundreds of times over the years and never really thought about it beyond it being one of the stopping points from Canberra to the coast. In many ways it’s a typical Aussie rural town that began as a local centre serving the surrounding farms and then expanded enormously with the gold rushes during the second half of the 1800s. What’s left behind is a whole pack of heritage buildings. The previously mentioned Bungendore is much the same though not as pretty, and on a road trip through Victoria we saw similar towns. I took it for granted that this is just how southeast Australian rural towns are; and in taking it for granted I never really saw them.

And here we are, and for the first time I’m really taking in the charm of Braidwood, the streets lined with Edwardian and Victorian buildings, and people hanging out getting food and coffee on their way to the beach.














About 50 years ago Bungendore and Braidwood would have been nothing more than sleepy, somewhat dilapidated rural hamlets, the wealth and population of the gold rush era long gone, but with the growth of Canberra, and people needing to get to the beach, the towns developed as stopping points, giving rise to cafes, restaurants, galleries, antique stores, and the more considered renovation and maintenance of the Victorian buildings.

A sign on this building





says the following: The Dragon is one of a group of significant heritage buildings between Canberra and the coast. It was built during the early 1860s during the gold rushes as the Exchange Hotel in Georgian style and in 1890 the Bank of Sydney added a Victorian verandah. Over the centuries it has also been a saddlery, a stock and station agency, a second hand shop, a tea shop, and a Vietnamese restaurant to name a few. I suspect this could all apply to many buildings in the town.

We drift around for a while, pulled by a languid curiosity, and discover a second-hand store full of vintage items, attractive in part because they lack the slickness of modern things.








Pulled by the music we wander into the local hall. We stop for a while to read the endearingly out-dated skating instructions,





and listen to the cellist who has a found a quiet place to practice.





Looking towards the open front door I notice the garish juxtaposition of the electric pink sign that defaces the bank building across the street, and wonder how, in a heritage-listed town, it was ever allowed.








Just another little factoid – Braidwood is famous for its prized rare truffles. And several Aussie movies have been filmed there, including Ned Kelly starring, of all people, Mick Jagger. I want to put a laughing emoji here, an ROFL emoji. I remember all Australia being appalled at the casting; it was universally ridiculed. Ned Kelly was a murderous bushranger, in American terms he was an outlaw. He also was, and still is, a national hero. Casting Mick Jagger in the role seemed completely preposterous. A very American description of the movie (no Aussie would ever speak of the frontier, or use the word gunslingers): In this rousing, fact-based tale of the Australian frontier, Mick Jagger makes his screen debut as a notorious outlaw who heads a band of Irish gunslingers as they try to outrun British authorities. I vaguely remember seeing the movie (made back in 1970). It was okay.

Continuing on we navigate the switchbacks on Clyde Mountain and finally descend down to sea level at Batemans Bay. The population of Batemans Bay in 1964 was 2000. Indicative of how the growth of Canberra led to the growth of every town between it and the beaches, today its population is 17,500. The town sits in a fabulous location on the banks of the Clyde River estuary,




but poor Batemans Bay; it’s a regional hub and service town, and I have never seen it as anything else, and I’d guess most Canberrans feel the same. It’s the place you stop to get petrol and supplies on the way to the beach. To the south, is some of the most spectacular and unspoiled coastline in New South Wales. And that’s where we’re headed.

To get to a partway decent beach you have to head a little south to Corrigans Beach, or Batehaven, where I stayed with my girlfriend all those years ago (and even then it was considered a bit inferior), but life in the Bay is all about the famous Clyde River oysters, fishing, and hanging out in the river.




















To get to a really good beach you head to Surf beach, or Lili Pilli, or Malua Bay, 13 kilometres south.

Malua Bay is one of a string of contiguous villages along the coast in a relatively narrow band of open space and bushland that fringes the foreshore. The resident population is under three thousand, and many of the houses are owned by Canberra residents who come for the summer.

We’re here! Two weeks at Malua! Don and I, and my three sisters and brother-in-law have rented a house in an urban setting a five-minute walk from the beach. Outside the house, beyond the lower deck, there’s a lushly overgrown back garden








with an iconic Australian Hills Hoist clothes line, and a resident skink.








If we want to go to the beach via the shops we go down Tallawang Ave to a little path just before the main road and cross Reedy Creek via a small wooden bridge.





If we want go directly to the beach we cross Tallawang higher up, take the path between the houses,





and climb down a steep flight of sand covered wooden stairs. We arrive at the very north end of the beach, where Reedy Creek creates a small shallow delta as it flows into the sea. And there’s the beach spread before us; five hundred glorious metres of golden sand, and the best surf you come to after leaving Batemans Bay.





From the far end of the beach looking back towards the village:





Surfers:





Photographers, photographing surfers:





Lapwings:





Crested Terns:








And the inevitable seagulls:





On our last night we go to Club Malua, a lawn bowls club, for dinner. Just at dusk I look out the window. Of course. There are kangaroos. Grazing behind the clubhouse in the fading light.





Beach time in Australia seems to be part of my DNA, embedded into the very cells of my being from my youngest memories, first near Melbourne, and later at the coast east of Canberra. The crashing and lapping of waves as a constant melody, the breeze, the salt air, the sand everywhere, the wet swimmers and towels. The freedom. A trip back to Australia would not be complete without it.





Braidwood, Batemans Bay, and Malua Bay are all situated on what was and always will be Aboriginal land; the lands of the Yuin Nation.

*CBD – Central Business District = downtown



Next post: I’ll dive deeper into our time at Malua, and also take a look at Aussie beach and surf culture; it informs the entire national character.

I’m taking a little break. There’s much busyness ahead with Christmas outings, and a ten-day trip to Montreal for Christmas with family. I’ll be back in 2024!

Thank you everyone, for following, for your likes and shares, and for your comments. I love every one; each one makes me do a little happy dance inside. Lol I remind myself of Sally Field collecting her 1984 Oscar and saying “You like me, right now you like me”!

Wishing you all a wonderful holiday season.
Merry everything!

See you next year.





All words and images by Alison Louise Armstrong unless otherwise noted
© Alison Louise Armstrong and Adventures in Wonderland – a pilgrimage of the heart, 2010-2023.