Sun, Sea, Sand and (Sangria?)…Surf! – Day 2

Monday morning dawned bright but showery. Although we had not been disappointed by the commercialism of Surfers Paradise, we detected all the classic effects of tourism. Nevertheless, the region is still beautiful, with many inland waterways, reminiscent of the Miami style, and a plethora of waterside dwellings.

We decided to visit other parts of the Gold Coast to see whether there was a less “tacky” region. Dragging ourselves away from the novelty of TV coverage of the tennis from Indian Wells and Premier League football on Fox Sports delayed our departure. Eventually we made our way further south to Coolangatta, where the regional airport is. Here was a much more tranquil seaside town, with far less indication of the global commercial virus, and almost exclusively local names on the businesses. Still there were the high-rise apartment and hotel blocks, but the broad beach was beautiful and plenty of surf for those who wanted. We picked our way northwards along the coast looking for other equally attractive sites, and ended the day at Burleigh Heads. Here was the whole spectrum of surfing. In a sheltered part were the nursery waves on which to learn the fundamentals of falling into water from a plank, whereas just around a headland huge breakers provided the near-ultimate adrenalin surge for those who wanted to fall off planks and receive a cuff around the ear from said plank for being so stupid and/or incompetent. We couldn’t get over how many people packed themselves into such a small area in the water – it was just amazing there weren’t more collisions. Signs on the shore explained the etiquette and right of way rules for surfers – totally unintelligible for the non-cognoscenti.

The funniest sight of the day was reminiscent of the old cartoon strip from the Daily Mirror called The Perishers (I don’t know if it’s still published). In it the family dog, an Old English Sheepdog called Boot, used to visit rock pools when on holiday and the crustacean life used to regard the annual appearance of “The Eyeballs in the Sky”, as some sort of quasi-religious experience. We saw a shaggy pooch doing exactly this act, standing motionless in a 12-inch deep pool for ages, peering intently for movement, and when the smallest of fish darted into view, it tried to trap it with its paw. We never saw any success, but the dog would not be distracted and we watched it over a period of at least 15 minutes. The joys of being by the sea and the entertainments it brings!