Keurbooms Strand

18th April  We are staying in a cottage right on the edge of the beach at Keurboom’s Strand.  From our windows and our veranda we look directly down the sandy beach towards rock formations, steep forested cliffs and mountains beyond.  It is the most sublime view and it feels as though we are the only people here. 

Full Moon  from our Veranda

 

 In the early mornings I roll out of bed and walk and walk along the beach,

my footprints the first to disturb the unblemished tide-packed sand. 

Morning shadow pointing to my lone footprints

 

 I have walked past the lagoon where seagulls gather and float on the sky-reflecting water. The river which feeds it flows down through high forested hills.  Dark-leaved trees glisten as though kissed with silver and there are delicate hoof prints on the banks near the reeds. 

Edge of Lagoon and River Valley beyond

 
I stand at the base of Cathedral Rock with its soaring arch and the round hole above. The tide is coming in and waves are beginning to lap up the sand under the arch.  Brave little flowers cling to the rock, bright yellow against ochre lichen.  Waves splash dramatically on the rocks beyond -- white foam scatters against the blue of the sky.  I know there is still no way I could throw a pebble high enough to go through the hole above the arch.  Goodness knows how hard I tried in my youth.  

 

I have walked on and on  -- across pebbled coves and sandy bays. 

 My small back pack grows too heavy with wonderfully patterned rocks and abalone shells.

  I sit down to cull and photograph the ones I have to leave behind.  

 

I stop at rock pools, immensely gladdened to see that there are still

bright sea anenomes and spiky sea urchins in reds and purple. 

 

It is all just as I remembered.  There is the rock we dived off into a deep pool left when the tide was low.  It had seemed challengingly high when I was young.  It still looks high to me. None of this has lost its grandeur or beauty.  It still seems as pristine and untampered as it did almost fifty years ago.  I give thanks.  There is not a soul in sight.  Unless you count the three black oystercatchers with red beaks and legs. 
 
I came on holiday here for many years with my family.  We rented a house half way up a hill.  We four children -- sunburned, sandy and tired after a day on the beach -- moaned and complained about the steep climb back to the house.  My mother had us walk up the hill backwards so that we would face the spectacular view and she led us in singing  “I’m walking backwards to Christmas”. 
 
 I always wished we could stay in one of the little cottages right on the beach. There would be no hill to climb, I could run directly out onto the sand, and go to sleep with the sound of the waves.
 
And here I am doing exactly that.  
 

Nancy setting up her tripod

moon

 And I have Nancy to thank.  She wanted to see the places which had been special to me. 

Being here, memories of my childhood sparkle in their clarity. It’s as though my family moves along the beach around me, hide and seek between the rocks. 

I'm walking backwards .....