Our next stop was Coolangatta, on the
border with New South Wales. Coolangatta is the home of not one, but two world
champion surfers (2012’s Joel Parkinson is still up on posters all around town,
and beyond). Throw in the Gold Coast’s Stephanie Gilmore and that’s another
handful of championships. I don’t know any more about surfing than I do about cricket,
but the professional surfers and their families whom I’ve met are the
friendliest, most down-to-earth people you can imagine. That’s how Coolangatta
seems too.
It’s a far cry from Surfers Paradise, just
up the coast. To see the glitz and tall buildings up the coast from
Coolangatta, it doesn’t look like paradise. And the surfers are here. The
community here loves their public beaches, and with good reason. Let’s hope no
one ever grabs the land to dredge it for a cruise liner terminal. Leave that to
Surfers Paradise, which is neither. Parkinson, 2013 champion Mick Fanning, and
the U.S.’s Kelly Slater are celebrating the defeat of one such plan for Kirra
Beach.
I’d had about enough of Queensland between
Townsville and Cairns, having traveled it first by road, then by sea, and
finally by plane. I might change my mind if the temperature in Melbourne soars
back up to what it was in the first week of the Australian Open, but up in the
wet tropics T. was beginning to think we’d have foot rot. Speaking of
Melbourne, I’m having a hard time pronouncing that city’s name, as well as
Cairns. Pronouncing them without an r at
all sounds very, very weird in a North American accent. It’s as if I pronounced
Paris the French way, in ordinary English conversation. Of course it is
correct...!
But back to the surf. I got up with the
Beach Boys in my head and imagined a day of catching waves and exhilaration.
Not, heaven knows, on a surfboard, but on a bodyboard like I did the first time
I saw the ocean at fourteen. I remember it being easy and riding the waves all
day until forced out by a lifeguard. Well, I was humbled by these waves. Maybe
it was serious surf, or maybe I just lost my nerve. I watched for a long time
to see if any of the kids knew what they were doing—only one or two of them
seemed to be getting there, some of the time. Maybe it was the wrong beach, or
the wrong decade! It’s sad when a dream dies.
Other than that, the water felt wonderful,
and the sun was not too hot (by south Australian standards)—a great day to be
on the beach. We took a long walk overlooking the beaches, all the way to the
border. The state line runs down the middle of a street, not unlike Bristol
(Tennessee/Virginia). What complicates matters is that this time of year, one
side of the street is an hour ahead with daylight savings time. There was one
awkward evening when we had to rush from happy hour over to the Chinese
restaurant, which was about to close because it is in New South Wales. Nearly missed
our takeout!
Another night we went for drinks on the
balcony of a friend who lives at the first address in Queensland (#1 this side
of the border). It overlooks Point Danger, which is the best view of the
Quiksilver Pro surfing competition that takes place every March. I didn’t feel
quite so bad after seeing people who knew what they were doing. Coolangatta is
the first place I ever saw a guy pushing his kid in a stroller, while riding a
skateboard. You might say Coolangatta begins with cool.
I will get back to the
restrooms/washrooms/toilets in this country—you know The Discreet Traveler
thinks these are important—but here’s another thing that’s amazing about
Australia: the free grills. Barbecues, as they’re called, set up as commonly as
picnic tables, on beaches and even on the side of the road. Free for people to
roll up and use. Not vandalized, not filthy. I try to imagine pulling this off
in the Anglo world, even if we had the weather.
At the unlikely location of the surf club,
I got into an intense conversation with someone who works on indigenous people’s
and LGBT rights. How is it, this Australian demanded indignantly, that her
country is so stuck on the issue of same-sex marriage, when the majority of Australians
couldn’t care less? It was kind of a nice break to get into a political issue TDT
cares about—politics has not intruded much on the last several weeks of
enjoyment.
Our last day on the Gold Coast we went to
Burleigh and walked around the headland in the national park, and down to the
beach by the estuary. There are good views of Burleigh surf here. Later, when
we were walking on Kirra Beach, we found a guy by the free showers (to wash
your feet—another nice touch) who was standing awkwardly on one leg. He asked
if we could help him, calmly explaining that he’d just broken his ankle, and
would we mind carrying his surfboard to the car. He didn’t mind hopping or
complain of any pain; he was just worried about his board!
The next time we’re on the Gold Coast (!)
we’ve been told, we must take a surf lesson. A bodyboard lesson would be about
right for me.
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