the best beaches in the world, says Melbourne radio’s Kate Langbroek. And
although the waters of Bass Strait may get nippy, you never regret a swim.
(former radio co-presenter and comedian) Dave O’Neill about 12 years ago. His
dad bought the block of land there for $700 in the ‘70s. They all called it
Cape Dump. I’ve been obsessed with the area ever since.
bodies flock to the inner-city beaches: St Kilda is wall-to-wall people waiting
to be noticed.
Gippsland’s Walkerville. The north is the dead-end fisherman’s beach. The south
has the better beach.
swim. And as a woman, I swim because I never want to become one of those
mothers that are just sitting on the beach, watching everyone else having fun
in the water. In Australia, we’re so cloaked in body shame, swathed in our
kaftans: it’s so easy to drift into that when you’ve got kids.
You could do what my mother-in-law and her sister did: with
seven children between them, they’d dig a big hole, bury all the children and
go for a swim. When they saw the first one climb out, they knew they had to
come out of the water. In the ’70s, you had to be resourceful.
our kids on the beach in Broome. Individually, not in a giant pit.
Kimberley’s are the most stunning I’ve ever seen. Every time we stopped, the
beach was exquisite. We drove down to Eco Beach, south of Broome, and there was
not a footprint on it.
Walkerville for its life and wild rugged beauty, with fishing boats and whales
outside your window as they go into Waratah Bay to rest with their babies.
Alison Lester wrote the children’s book Magic
Beach about Walkerville, but it’s still a secret beach. The local fishermen
will hate me for talking about it.
Brisbane and in Papua New Guinea. Mum and dad would take us to the Spit on the Gold
Coast, where we learned to swim, which was really odd as the Spit is that
finger of land near where SeaWorld is, with crashing waves and wild surf. Dad
couldn’t swim well, and mum didn’t swim at all. I remember me and my brother
being out of our depth many, many times.
gilding the lily) on the Gold Coast for two weeks. We swam at Burleigh Heads, Tallebudgera
and Kirra Beach.
when our first son, Lewis, was six weeks old. We drove 4000km and on the way
back, we stopped at Bondi because even though he’s Australian, Peter had never
been to Bondi. We wheeled Lewis onto the sand in his pram and were so dying to
get into the water, we left him with another family on the beach and asked them
to wave when he woke up: we invoked the community of the beach.
Walkerville. He talks about it all the time, as many Melbournians do. He’s
really into nature, so he takes the kids for walks and is teaching them to body
surf. I’m hopeless at it.
scoop sand into meaningless piles, find bits of shells and sharks’ heads and
poke them with sticks and talk about the schtunk
of it. It’s ageless.
Show on Nova 100.