52 Journeys, Australia: No 2, Broken Bay, Part 2
After those first few trips to Broken Bay, I returned – for a sail on a little boat and a few days in a little shack, both in the middle of the big blue. All the while trying to imagine life here hundreds of years ago.
First, the sail. I do not possess sea legs – I shudder at the thought of the slightest heeling over – but I love the concept of being free on the ocean. On that first recce up to Pittwater, I was so desperate to get out onto the water that as soon as I spied a little boat coming in to the wharf, I called out, ‘Would you mind if I hopped on your boat for a bit?’ Shameless and desperate, yes. But as it turned out, effective. Because the captain of the boat turned out to be Charlie, an old neighbour from 30 years ago. He couldn’t accommodate my cheeky request there and then, but he very kindly agreed to take me and another old friend out for a sail a few weeks later.
A moment after I took this shot, I recognised it was Charlie!
10. ‘Gem’, 1965, Rozinante canoe yawl, 28 feet long
Our mutual friend, Lisa, and I met Charlie at Pretty Beach and as we motored out into Broken Bay, we were accompanied by a school of dolphins who played around the bow for a few minutes. It was a total delight and we yelped like kids, watching them come in and out of view.
having a whale of a time with the dolphins of Broken Bay
As I watched them play, I remembered reading how important they used to be to Indigenous Australians – apparently they worked together to herd fish into their nets.
dolphins used to help herd fish into nets :: 1
dolphins used to help herd fish into nets :: 2
Looking at Lion Island, which sits in the middle of Broken Bay just outside Pittwater, there’s no sign of modern life to distract you – you are essentially looking at exactly what Indigenous Australians would have seen.
and then everything changed
As we got closer to the mouth of the Hawkesbury, where the river meets the sea, Charlie hoisted the sail and we headed out.
setting sail
out on the Tasman Sea
just imagine what’s under us!
look at that angle, we are practically falling in!
cue the Jaws soundtrack
I joke about it now but I was genuinely a little scared; the boat heeled over so much that I felt like at any moment I could just fall into the sea. There was a lot of nervous laughter between Lisa and I, well, maybe just me. But I trusted Charlie entirely – he’s been sailing since he was a kid – so it was more like a thrill ride, knowing there was almost zero chance of imminent death. Almost.
heading back
So that was that. A fun, life-affirming and slightly nerve-wracking day on the high seas. (Thanks again Charlie and if you’re up for a sunset sail, I’m keen!)
Three months later, I headed back to the area, to spend a few nights in a shack on Great Mackerel Beach, located on the western shores of Pittwater in Ku-ring-gai Chase National Park, right across from Palm Beach. I’d booked it mid year, as a special treat for my two nieces, Gina and April, as well as Coco and myself; I’ve been meaning to spend a weekend with these three for years, and with Gina about to head off to Newcastle for uni, I decided it was now or never. I’d discovered The Little Black Shack a few months earlier on yet another recce to the area – I’d caught the little ferry to Currawong Beach and walked around to Great Mackerel Beach. Looking down into the Mediterranean-esque calm, turquoise water, I’d noticed a little place with a palm leaf sun umbrella on the deck, close to the water’s edge.
Mediterranean-like Pittwater
the Little Black Shack below, with a lot of blue in front
Intrigued, I found out its name – The Little Black Shack. I also discovered it’s a popular escape and hard to get into, but as luck would have it, there was a vacancy on my birthday a few months away. I couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate, especially after such a crappy year. Late afternoon on a Friday in December myself and the three girls caught the little ferry, Myra, across from Palm Beach to Mackerel.
that tiny speck in the background is the ferry heading to Mackerel Beach
It was dinner time by the time we arrived and after rustling up pizza, we hit the sack, eager to wake up early the next morning on the edge of a huge expanse of water, with nothing but bush behind us and sky above.
moody sunrise
the shack’s main room
looking through to the bedroom
coastal life
local stone painstakingly carried and positioned by the owners
who knows what lies beneath?
My brother and sister-in-law joined us for lunch that day and for some reason I didn’t capture any of it – too busy relaxing I guess. But that evening the weather turned and I reached for my camera – tucked up safe and warm inside, we could just make out the distant lighthouse through the driving rain and darkness.
stormy weather :: 1
stormy weather :: 2
The next morning I woke before the girls and spent the most glorious few hours with my camera; despite being so close to civilisation, I felt like I was far far away, surrounded by nothing else but nature. Two days before I’d arrived as a weary, wired but tired city-slicker – now I felt refreshed, relaxed and happy. In my swimmers, doing what I love best, with no one around and amongst great beauty. Renting the shack had felt like a total indulgence (it ain’t cheap) but really, the feeling it gave me was worth every penny.
the morning after the storm
somewhere under those sheets is a sleeping Coco
framed
selfie
shimmering light
One by one the girls appeared then would disappear again to nap, read, wander.
island girl
from the sea
table with a view
April – eat…read…
sleep…
and read some more…
Gina down at the water’s edge
mermaids
Just before it was time to leave, we turned up the music and danced like crazy – it felt like a final release of energy before heading back to the big smoke.
leaving the same way we came – on Myra, the little wooden ferry
the Central Coast ferry, with Mackerel Beach in the background
I realise looking back at this post that you might think I was paid to endorse the Little Black Shack – I absolutely wasn’t. I just really loved it, mainly because this old fishermen’s cottage, modernised just enough to make it comfortable, had simultaneously calmed and excited me. And just as importantly, reminded me of the importance of getting away from the big smoke and surrounding yourself in nature – especially nature that’s as beautiful as Pittwater and Broken Bay.
It wasn’t near long enough though – I’d planned to explore beyond the shack’s immediate surrounds but between a birthday celebration and hanging out with three of my favourite humans, there just hadn’t been any time.
Yet as ‘busy’ as our relaxed weekend had been, I’d often caught myself thinking of those who’d lived here before, hundreds even thousands of years ago, and how pissed off you’d be to have lost such a paradise. The mind boggles.
Anyway, there’s one final installment coming up to finish the ‘Broken Bay’ journey (not that I would ever really be able to ‘finish’ exploring the area, even if I had years to do so). Stay tuned!
As always I love your images. I think you’ve captured it (Pittwater) exactly! I love the The Little Black shack and the owners are local, and gorgeous.
It’s a special little place in a beautiful expanse, isn’t it? You’re very lucky to be local, Di.
Beautiful Louise. Perfectly captures the transcendent beauty of the western shores.
Thanks Charlie. Transcendent is right. So much beauty.
Lovely , thank you for sharing. I have an ocean view and you’ve inspired me to build a little breakfast bar on the balcony. I love the walk with all the sea pictures. I think my obsession as a child with The Ghost and MrsMuir series has developed a liking of sailing paintings. Thank you for invoking my passions
Oh yes, you must build that bar! Being able to see the sea on a regular basis is a total privilege and pleasure. And yes, I think most of us love a sailing painting – the promise of freedom and adventure is so alluring. Very happy to have invoked your passion!
I am so glad to be reading your stories and seeing your fabulous photos again. What a stunning little place to while away a few days and celebrate your birthday and LIFE
Thank you Lisa. And yes, LIFE!
Lou your photos are amazing!!! Such beautiful colours and capturing this beautiful place. I would love to stay @thelittleblackshack. And to go sailing with charlie. Love the look of his boat.
….dreams X
Thanks cous. Very happy I could take you on a virtual adventure – let’s plan a real one soon! xx
Louise, what beautiful, beautiful photos. Please can we go and stay in the Black Shack? These amazing pics are why I will come ‘home’ one day…Miss you xx
Oh lovely one, yes! Maybe I’ll book us in now – the wait list is pretty long – if it lures you here sooner, it’ll be worth it. Miss you too xx
Can I come too?
Yes yes, come on over Gaylee! xx
Dear Louise,
What a beautiful surprise?!
I used to live in Clareville (which I know you know) years ago…seems like another lifetime!
Pittwater, especially the Western Shore, is one of my all time favourite places. I’ve often thought of a place like The Little Black Shack
as its always been a dream of mine to live in such a place…only accessible by water!
Thankyou for sharing your experience and of course your gorgeous snaps 🙂
Very glad you enjoyed it! I think a lot of people dream of having a Little Black Shack in their lives – it has everything you really need – small but with a big wonderful view of blue and green.
Absolutely glorious… I feel more relaxed just from reading about your trip, and looking at the beautiful photos. What a truly wonderful part of the world the Pittwater is…
It sure is. And I know what you mean – every time I look at these images I feel my heart rate slow. So calming.
It’s a tough life, but thanks for doing it so beautifully for us !!!
Ha! I’ll keep soldiering on if it means I can continue to share the beauty and joy. (I think I get just as much pleasure from that as I do from experiencing it myself.)
Great stuff Lou.
Thanks Kalinda. We need to do it again (cousin Cate?!) xx
Such an atmospheric description and photos! I’ve been in covid lockdown on and off for a year here in the UK, so this is fuelling dreams of when travel can return and cannot wait to head to return to Australia and book a stay in that shack!
I feel for you Kate, that must have been so tough. As you know, Australia has been so lucky in that regard. But I’m glad I could help fuel a dream and hope you get here as soon as possible.
Thanks Lou
I woke in the middle of the night and was delighted to read your wonderful account of the LBS and surrounds.
I loved how you talked your way onto a stranger’s boat only to find that you knew him anyway:)
The marrying of etchings and your sublime images is, as always, inspired. Thanks!!
Thanks lovely. It was pretty funny, calling out to a stranger who turned out not to be. And I’m glad you’re enjoying the diptychs, they’re different to my normal thing but just as fun.
So jealous Louise! Beautiful photos and lovely blog
Ah, Chris, it’s all waiting here for you when you return. (I was down at Balmoral Beach the other day shooting the sunrise – thought of you living there – I especially love how you can see right out to the heads.)
It’s so lovely reading your posts again! I live in Avalon and we often hike through Ku-ring-gai down to Mackerel. Jamie and Ingrid have done such an incredible job restoring the little black shack. What a treat to spend a weekend there.
I love hearing you’re enjoying the posts again, thank you! And yes, they sure have done an amazing job – with the structural stuff as well as the look – despite the fact you know how carefully it’s all been curated, it feels like it’s been there a hundred years.
It’s all about the light in Oz and your photos around Pittwater have caught the light beautifully. The light here is something we miss when we travel to the dimly lit parts of the world.
The movie “Tim” (c1980) with the young Mel Gibson was partly filmed around the old Customs House near Barrenjoey.
Stay Well, Frederick H
Agreed, the light in this country is incredible. I love it so much, although I sometimes curse how strong and contrasty it is when the sun is blazing during the day. Always amazing early and late afternoon though, when it softens down and gets all golden and glowy.