I walked every street in Woy Woy

Thursday, January 19, 2006

Walk #31 - Dark Day

(Walked 8th of July 2005)

By lunchtime today there was no new news about the London bombings. So I picked up a couple of films from the developers then went walkies.

Pittwater From Ettalong II
(Big version) From Ettalong Beach, looking into Pittwater in the distance.

There was cloud cover when I set out but it was high white cloud. But by the time I got to the start of my walk black clouds had come and it was dark enough that the flash of my camera came on.

Discarded Tricycle
(Big version) Similar view from a bit further along.

Walked the park along the foreshore. There was a memorial at one end of it for some local insurance person who did charity work for the elderly. Born 1907, death date unknown because some unattractive bloke with a couple of jack russels chose to perch his backside on it and obscure it. Then he tried to chat me up. Lose the bottle of beer in the park at lunchtime, mate, and you might get laid occasionally.

Hardy's Bay from Ettalong
(Big version) Hardys Bay from Ettalong.

Sat at a picnic table and gazed down past Half Tide Rocks at Wagstaffe to Pittwater behind Palm Beach. It was one of those days when you don't know if you're hot or cold. There was no wind. The sulphur crested galahs were screeching in a banksia further along and some swallows were twittering like mad behind me. A couple of guys in serious cyclists rig-out sat murmuring to each other at a picnic table. A large sleek dog went past with its owners. It didn't need to be on a lead. It didn't take its eyes off their tennis ball. A small power boat buzzed slowly past. A light aircraft went over. Seagulls cawed at a kid with a sandwich on the beach.

After a few minutes I went off along the park again. There was quite a crowd at Ferry Street. The Palm Beach ferry was late. It was dead calm so it hadn't been cancelled due to high seas (it goes past the heads). I'm thinking there were security checks.

Walking away from Ferry Street, I tried to photograph a rosella in a golden bottlebrush. Don't see many golden bottlebrushes. Then another drunk hit on me. Bloody hell.

In the next street there was a paramedic rescue truck outside someone's house. Paramedic's nipped home for a midday shag, I thought. But then my doctor pulled up and hurried into the house and an ambulance showed up as well. Some Dear Old Thing slipped in the bath and got wedged under the taps or something. Poor bugger.

When Bad People Happen To Good Architecture
(Big version) There's a nice old cottage under there somewhere.

Next to that house was a seventies revamp of a forties house that was a classic example of When Bad People Happen To Good Architecture. At the end of the street there was a pleasant casement window on a house from around 1900. Despite a few seventies add-ons, the house was largely intact and in pretty good nick. I saw easily a dozen old cottages under seventies and eighties renovations.

1890s House. Maybe.
(Big version)

Today's walk was mainly forties and seventies again with continuous building along the foreshore from the seventies on. One place on the foreshore had a big double size block of land with plenty of big old trees. The house was maybe 1920s and it was in great nick. Freshly painted and not a house that was going to be flogged to real estate sharks any time soon. Looked like it'd been in the same family since it was built.

At the oval next to Blackwall Mountain there was an ugly blockhouse-style scout hall and an old guy chicking a stick for three big excited dogs. Further down towards the beach a large fluffy black elderly dog eyed me tiredly while its owner yacked over someone’s fence. I sat on the low wall on the traffic island. The road was wide there and a garden had been made down the middle of it in the eighties. Despite being done in the eighties it was tasteful and low-key. There was a sign welcoming you to Ettalong Beach with "Established 1830" under it. A forties van freshly painted in bright yellow went past. It had "Kevin's Removals" on the side. A Dear Old Thing sitting close to a heater was peering out her front window over a tangle of bird cages.

I went down past the white wooden Uniting Church (foundation stone "Laid by Mr Chas E Allen To The Glory Of God 28-11-'31"). The RSL war museum was closed. Bugger. "Tues & Thurs 9AM to 2PM". I'll make sure my next walk near there is a Tues or Thurs. They should have some interesting stuff.

Sat on a block of limestone at the beach end of Picnic Parade and put in a new film. The ferry was backing up to the wharf at Ferry Street. Quite a crowd got off it. I watched it move off and head for Pittwater. A couple of ducks were ducking under the water and splashing about.

On the last bit of today's walk there was a motel. When they're giving directions on the phone no doubt they say "you can't miss us". It's true. They've got a purple and orange paint job. Dude, the seventies are over already.

Purple & Orange Motel
(Big version)

Got the bus home. In front of me Dear Old Thing #1 said to Dear Old Thing #2: "Wasn't that a terrible thing in London?"
Dear Old Thing #2 said: "Yes and the rain."
"And the seat was so tiny you felt like you were being chopped up!"
"Um. Okay."

Other than that people were pretty quiet. It's been a crap week.

Next walk


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