The incredible travel secret that is Murrays Beach at Jervis Bay, Australia

Editor’s Note: At the time of publication Canberra’s Booderee National Park was closed due to safety issues resulting from the current weather conditions. Before travelling, Travel at 60 recommends consulting with ACT Parks and Conservation.

I’d been told it before years ago, but had forgotten, so I listened to the effervescent native Australian explain it all again as I handed over my money. He elaborated that Booderee National Park was actually run by the government because, when Canberra was mooted, they needed a port and Jervis Bay was a good fit so, today, now that it’s redundant, it is still funded by the Federal Government and run by the Wreck Bay Aboriginal Community. It will cost you $6.50 if you have a concession card, twice that if you haven’t.

I parted with my money and thanked the effervescent one. At least I now had a map. It showed ‘Botanical Gardens’; a little off what I was planning to do but I went nonetheless. My anticipation of seeing lots of different wildflowers with name tags on them were quickly dashed. No, this is more your forest type thing, with names of various eucalypts, she-oaks and ferns regularly popping up and pleasant walks among them but, after Barren Ground, I’d been expecting wildflowers.

Moving on to my original destination, the tongue confusing Munyunga Waraga Dugan Trail that starts at the back of Murrays Beach, I came upon a spacious carpark with few vehicles.

The trail, in part, utilises pathways put in for access to the long defunct St George Lighthouse and the New Bristol Half-Time School, but that came on the second half of the walk, now I was off along Murrays Beach, sinking in the soft sand as I strode towards the unknown, because this wasn’t the actual trail. The sand stopped and some small cliffs intervened and I tentatively scrambled up one, overlooking a delightful tiny secluded beach, before thrashing my way through virgin scrub, eventually stumbling out onto the trail proper, although this was merely a side trek to a lookout over an entrance to the bay with views across a bar to Bowen Island. Beyond that is the main entrance to the bay, which is overlooked by the Point Perpendicular Light on the northern headland.

I turned my back on that and moved south. At some stage along the route someone had tied a pink ribbon on a branch. My curiosity was piqued, an indentation where someone had walked was apparent and I felt drawn to the cliff edge that was over ‘there’ somewhere. Photo opportunities would surely be available.

The lead petered out but I noticed another ribbon, so obviously someone had been here before. The sound of the sea beckoned me and the going was tricky. I kept stubbing my feet on, something my worn knees weren’t happy about, searing pain occurring each time it happened. What was also there was a profusion of wildflowers. It was like Tinkerbell had been on steroids and scattered tinsel everywhere.

The cliffs revealed the tentacles of the ocean that sought their way in at the base and there were caves aplenty; just the thing for explorers in small boats on a calm day. The wash of the swell as it rose up and down the sandstone shelves was borne aloft to my position on the cliff’s edge. It was mana for the soul.

I returned to the trail again and pushed on for another kilometre, the wind began to buffet me and then the sky darkened and the droplets began. I checked out the clouds and surmised that I’d probably get wet but not drenched as it was a quickly moving bank. Besides, there was no cover anywhere.

Yet again I acceded to my exploratory nature, seeking out the edge where more dramatic vistas might be found. I wasn’t disappointed, nothing like a sheer drop to get the adrenalin going. It was here there was some change in vegetation as well. There were grass trees and flannel flowers in abundance but the most amazing was this carpet of tiny flowers, the like of which I’d never seen before. You literally could not take a step in any direction without stepping on some. I imagined when the banksia eventually returned they would be in less profusion but now they were having their day and the charcoal saturated dead banksia was having its way with me, leaving my jeans, shirt and hat thoroughly scarred with black stains.

I plunged on, pleased that I’d taken the extra effort to get the cliff shots and disappointed no one in power had the foresight or the money to put a lookout in the best position. It would enhance the experience so much more for the general public.

Eventually I reached the turning point onto the old road mentioned earlier. It descended slightly through forest; such a change from before, until it emerged just a couple of hundred metres from the carpark, adjacent to Murrays Beach. I was taken aback at how blue the water had become. A big break in the clouds and the sun was working wonders with the hues. It was throwing a temptation at me to return. I’m smitten.

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