The sky was grey as we headed off on the 50 minute bus trip from our hostel at Collaroy to Palm Beach and the start of the Great Sydney Coast Walk. However, as we got closer, the patches of blue became larger and the sun shone on us as we finally set off on foot. We were at the northern limit of Sydney suburbia, near the tip of the north shore peninsula. Like a hammerhead on a long sandy handle, the rocky knob of Barrenjoey Head guards the mouth of Pittwater and the Hawkesbury River and it was our first destination on this walk.

We headed immediately down to the shoreline and turned north along the firm white sand of Barrenjoey Beach. To the west, across the calm waters of Pittwater lay the dark forested hills of Kuring-gai Chase framed by the brooding greyness of the retreating cloud band. Barely half a kilometre into our walk, we found ourselves sitting on the deck of a trendy shoreline café sipping a café latte. As mentioned, walking the urban fringes is different to bushwalking and we were slipping comfortably into the role.

Caffeine hit over, we continued northward to the end of the sand spit and began the climb up a set of impressive steps cut into the sandstone rock of Barrenjoey Head that led up through the heath to its summit. Here we were greeted by the light house and keeper’s house, beautifully crafted out of sandstone blocks. A narrow side track wandered away to the east through a dense heathland, speckled with the red of callistemon brushes, the white of flannel flowers and the blue of dianella berries. 

Refuelled, we left the beach on a grassy strip of parkland to climb up to the heights of Palm Beach on an impressive set of winding stone steps cut into the sandstone. This brought us out into the northern beaches suburbia – impressive houses with impressive views. We followed the quiet leafy streets through to Little Head, with its panoramic views across Whale Beach to the dark silhouette of Careel Head, as another band of grey cloud pushed through from the south.

Crossing Whale Beach and climbing back up into more suburban streetscape, we decided to take an alternative route. Instead of following the coast around, we turned west, dropping down the slope to reach Pittwater and the mangrove lined creeks of Careel Bay.

We followed Careel Creek out from the bay, and as we headed inland, the mangroves were slowly displaced by casuarinas sighing in the southerly breeze. It was good to have discovered a different landscape. However, somewhere the tree-line creek turned into a graffiti-lined concrete storm water channel, so we hurried on to reach Avalon Beach and the Pacific Ocean once again. We were back on the coastal track.

From here, it was a descent past cliff-top houses (with their million dollar views and even bigger prices) to the beach, where the fair Nello was able to watch the start of a beach wedding (quel bonheur!). One last headland lay between us and Newport Beach, our destination for today and we were tiring of the forays into suburbia. However, fortune favours the persistent and this time the route followed a footpath through the cliff top heathland and across the hanging swamps of Bilgola South Head to the golden sand of Newport Beach below. With the sun back out, it was a good end to a good day’s walk and, on reaching the southern end of this beach, we ducked inland to catch the L90 bus back to Collaroy for a well-earned beer (we can recommend Cantina from El Salvador).

We followed the houses around to Mona Vale Headland, remarking on the large numbers of for sale signs – was it just the norm, or were generational change and the global financial climate the drivers of this turnover.

Our arrival at Mona Vale Headland stopped all these wonderings, as we took in the 270° views – northward along our track from Palm Beach and southward over the long golden strands of Warriewood, Mona Vale and Basin Beaches.

Here we at last left the streets behind and followed a footpath down through the scrubby casuarina heath to reach the shoreline at Basin Bay, a small stretch of sand and one of the few areas where sea weed had been washed up on the beach. At its southern end we spotted a small café – it was time for a cappuccino, joining the Sydneysiders out for a late Saturday morning breakfast in the warm sun.

As the lake turned inland, we turned back to the coast, to follow Narrabeen and Collaroy Beaches southward – the much softer sand making for a bit of a trudge in comparison to our walk down Mona Vale Beach just a few kilometres to the north. At its southern end, we passed one of the many ocean rock pools that are so characteristic of Sydney, crossed Fisherman’s Beach and climbed gently up to the heights of Long Reef Point.

The soft golden sand of Narrabeen Beach

To the north the views back up the coast were magnificent, inland the golfers were enjoying their weekend on the greens and fairways of Long Reef Golf Club, above a pair of hang-gliders were swooping and wheeling in the breeze and not a cloud was left in the sky.

We headed on, down the southern flank of the golf course to wade across the narrow entrance to Dee Why Lagoon and on down to the southern end of Dee Why Beach, our terminus for the day. It was a busy scene of swimmers, sunbakers, body boarders and surfers – we were getting the impression that the further south you went, the more crowded the beaches became.

Staying in a large Backpackers hostel on a Saturday is an interesting experience – the noise peaks around 2am when the revellers return, but next morning most are all still sleeping it off. Thus, after a peaceful breakfast on our own, we set off for the last day of our walk. The grey cloud creeping in from the south suggested that the forecast of “isolated showers later in the day” might be spot on, so we quickly pushed on, leaving a Dee Why Beach already filling with early morning bathers to climb up on to a long line of cliffs heading south.

The track rejoined the beach near the surf life saving club and then followed a footpath around the rock platform to a low headland overlooking Freshwater Beach, backed by the imposing apartment block crowned cliffs of Queenscliff.

We had walked right into the middle of a Nippers Surf Carnival – the northern end of the beach filled with kids in life-savers caps, their attendant parents and officials in the mandatory broad-rimmed straw hats (even on an increasingly grey and windy day as we were having). We stopped to watch a couple of beach sprints and surf-ski races before wandering on down the beach and joining the Sunday morning latte set for a coffee in one of the many trendy cafés that line the esplanade.

The sky was looking more and more menacing, so we decided to push on. Bad decision – we should have stayed in the café as very shortly after a southerly squall blew through, forcing us to put on our rain gear and seek shelter beneath the thick branches  of a Norfolk island pine. This set the pattern for the rest of the day – a bit more progression up the esplanade, then sheltering beneath the canvas of an Environment Day Fair as a second squall blew through; a pleasant wander up the walkway around the rocks of the Fairy Bower to Cabbage Tree Beach, the last, smallest and perhaps prettiest of the 22 beaches we had crossed on our walk, where we again were driven into shelter by squalls and sunshowers.

Sunshower on Cabbage Tree Beach

We were now about to leave the city behind and explore the biggest area of natural vegetation remaining on this coastal walk – the North Head. This large peninsula guarding the entrance to Sydney Harbour was, until recently a military reserve, a fortunate thing as it saved it from the developers clutches until society was sensible enough to appreciate its magnificent conservation value.

We were now about to leave the city behind and explore the biggest area of natural vegetation remaining on this coastal walk – the North Head. This large peninsula guarding the entrance to Sydney Harbour was, until recently a military reserve, a fortunate thing as it saved it from the developers clutches until society was sensible enough to appreciate its magnificent conservation value.

The wind was getting stronger and the squalls more frequent, so we quickly pushed on to our primary destination, North Head itself. Here shear walls of multi-coloured sandstone plunge down into the ocean and, on reaching the viewing platforms at the cliff edge, we were almost blown over by the wind - the system had developed into that notorious feature of Sydney weather – a full blown southerly buster. Still, what better place to be in the face of a fierce cold wind than on an isolated exposed headland – it just seems right.

"Southerly buster" view from North Head over Sydney and the entrance to the Harbour

Although technically we considered our walk over, we still had a bit to go - a quick stroll back up to the gateway of the old Quarantine Station. For almost 160 years, from its opening in 1828, this had been the place where people on ships carrying yellow fever, small pox, typhoid and other exotic diseases were sent to either die, recover or be declared disease-free. Now it is an upmarket resort, the lovely old weatherboard buildings with their broad verandahs and views out across the harbour having been renovated without losing the heritage feel and ambience – e.g. the bathrooms, though private, are in their original block off the verandah.

It just so happened that it was the fair Nello and my 37th wedding anniversary and this beautiful spot, so close yet so far from the bustle of Sydney seemed a great place to stay and celebrate it. We occupied the quarters of the First Class quarantainees, but my original vision of sitting out on the verandah sipping a gin and tonic as we watched the sunset over Sydney Harbour was blown away with the southerly buster. nonetheless, our room was a cosy spot from which to watch the horizontal rain and wind-blustered treetops, as we reminisced over a very pleasant and surprisingly varied walk.