Merimbula

We loved Merimbula. Our introduction to the Sapphire Coast lived up to its name: we were surrounded by all shades of dazzling blue. And we had a very special introduction to one of its most wonderous visitors. It was hard to leave. We lingered…

Arriving in Merimbula late on a Friday afternoon, we cycled along the cycle path from Pambula, to our digs, located in the Fishpen area of the town. A neighbourhood set on a peninsula, ocean to one side and bay and lagoon on the other, Fishpen got its name from the former salmon pens set in the bay, now replaced by oyster beds, placed in lines across the bay, where Sydney Rock Oysters (great name for a band) are grown in submerged bags.

It was quiet and sleepy, with wide, quiet streets lined with manicured grass verges and populated by holiday apartments blocks and condo style complexes, seemingly a holiday place with not much else. We aimed to stay a few days to plan our route to Sydney and onward to Indonesia.

Walking along the footpath fronting the bay the sun reflected off the rippling water, translucent and turquoise coloured. Terns darted across the sky heading to roost and pelicans gently floated by, comical by their size and appearance. The water lapped against the shore and we rounded the sand spit to a long gently curving beach of golden sand, stretching all the way to Pambula Beach, six miles away. This was the Australia of my imagined expectation, as surfers played amongst the waves.

Sunday we had booked a morning whale watching trip with Sapphire Coastal Adventures, a local outfit based in town. The small friendly team of skipper and tour guide took good care of us all, pointing out the fur seals taking a break on some private jetties as we passed, slug like and dozing.

Merimbula has the advantage of lying on the coastal route of migration for Humpback Whales. From May to November you can see them as they travel north to warmer waters to breed and calve and then back south, with their calves, to the southern ocean and rich feeding grounds. This whale highway makes New South Wales’ Sapphire Coast a great place to see them.

The skipper told us all to keep an eye out for sea life and shout out if we saw anything. We headed out across the bay, a couple of dolphins buzzed the boat, their dorsal fins cutting through the water and their white and grey bodies visible as they sliced in front of the prow. Hoping that would not be the only mammals we saw, we travelled only a bit farther when a shot of water went up in the distance. A hoot of joy went up from the crew and folks on the boat to greet this exhalation and our first whale!

Then, a part breach in the distance! A big splash! A happy squeal of delight from us all on board! The skipper headed for the area of this spectacle and I think we were all hoping we would be lucky. A sight of a hump, then dorsal fin followed, smoothly gliding across the water. Not one but two whales, fleeting but lovely to see. They can hold their breath for 45 mins so no guarantee they would stick around.

Another visible blow farther out to sea and a quick pursuit to get us in its vicinity.

As we approached, the skipper turned off the engine and we floated about. A whale was close (our tour guide noted that it is often the females and juveniles that are most curious). ‘She’ popped up not far from the boat, and proceeded to come close and say hello. She floated, tail down, and then lifted her head out of the water to look at us, just metres from the boat. We could see the barnacles and her white chin as she eyeballed us. Our guide tapped the metal hand rail of the boat mentioning that the sound travels and it can pique the interest of a whale. Some of us obliged, with a “hello” greeting to the whale in the hope it would hang around, which it kindly did! A few slow passes underneath the boat were wonderful to witness, her size visible in the crystal clear water. A few pirouettes and more head bobbing rounded off a fantastic experience, ending with a blow and cloud of whale snot, accompanied by a muffled trumpet sound.

It was quite an emotional experience, one of privilege, to be so close to this giant gentle wanderer, and one that I will never forget.

That afternoon, high after our whale trip, we took our bikes to explore the headland. Long Point sticks out into the ocean like a fish hook of land and has a lookout at the end, reached by a path through trees. This point felt secluded, wild and undeveloped, despite being close to a nice neighbourhood of hilltop houses with amazing views. We stopped on route at the Bar Beach Kiosk which was busy on this sunny Sunday afternoon. Surfers hung out, tops off, drying out their wetsuits and towels after a morning session on the waves. Girls sunbathed, and paddle boarders punted about with grace, adding to this stereotypical snapshot of Aussie beach life. Sitting for a while we enjoyed just taking all the colours and beauty in.

Raising ourselves from our stupor we cycled to the end of the road and down the track to the lookout. As we trundled along a sandy track, and the sun with its late afternoon light painted the tree tops amber, the smell of the trees, shrubs and flowers came to the fore. The headland is home to many species with names alien to us, including giant honey myrtle, old man banksia, stunted bloodwood and toothed daisy-bush. Some, of these were producing sweet smells none of which we were used to and none that we could identify but it was wonderful.

The viewpoint at the end provided views out to sea. We could see the distant blows of whales and hear the cries of seabirds, returning to the inlet in time to find a roost. Chatting to a local couple, they mentioned that they could sometimes hear whales and their fin slaps from their house when the sea is calm, and that whales make sounds like elephants - a sort of low rumbling moan.

The following day was set aside for planning. Some discipline required which was a challenge on another beautiful day. Before shutting ourselves in, we popped to Mitchies’s Jetty, where there is a small coffee shed. It’s a focal point for locals and also seems to be a hang out for the Fishpen retirees! Dangling with our legs over the jetty we watched thousands of fish spry dart about in the water.

The following planning day we got up early to first cycle the six miles to Parambula Beach on the recommendation of Dean, the owner of the motel. Arriving at the beach, we left the bikes and took the Jiguma Walking Track to the river estuary. Walking up through the trees over a headland dotted with houses tucked against the hill with views out to sea, we enjoyed the shady respite from the sun, already hot, even at 10:00am. We could hear lizards rustle their way through the leaf litter, sprinting away as our shadows disturbed their sun bathing.

Arriving at the lovely river mouth, the smooth sand and shallow calm water surrounded by forest was indeed tranquil. We meandered back around the headland, this time by the beach route as the tide receded. Sandy coves were linked by distinctive sandstone outcrops as waves crashed into the red mudstone. The sandstone was pockmarked with holes making the stone look like liquid that had been frozen.
A large slab of sandstone made a great viewpoint and we stood leaning into the wind, Merimbula visible at the far end of the curving beach. The sandstone was a tablet for teenage angst, the unburdening of feelings, all laid down in permanent marker.

We spent over a week in Merimbula, having a truly lovely stay. We’d quickly warmed to this Aussie seaside haven, its location, friendly atmosphere and beach culture, so much so that we ended up staying longer than planned. We felt an affinity with the place but as always, we must move on.Read more