Move Over Florida and California: Day Trip to the Australian Palm Beach

Over the past few weeks, Partner-in-Crime has been working, as Dolly Parton said in Steel Magnolias, “like a one-armed paper hanger” in preparation for a big conference at work this week. So, last weekend, we wanted a short getaway so that he could get a little respite. A day trip seemed eminently more relaxing than driving a long way to stay overnight somewhere; so we settled on a little jaunt to the Northern Beaches, which looked just cavity-inducingly picturesque. Added bonus: the promise of being on a boat – a ferry, which runs a regular 30-minute trip from Palm Beach to Ettalong.

Palm Beach was, as promised, a quaint beach town. Partner-in-Crime said that it reminded him of the beachside villas in Massachusetts. We found the ferry dock at a sweet little park where a handful of families and a scattering of couples were enjoying low-key afternoons. It was too cold for swimming, but certainly warm enough to be out in the sun with a picnic. We were really hungry by the time we arrived, and we contemplated eating at one of the few restaurants on the little strip, but the next ferry left in ten minutes, so we decided to suck it up and find a restaurant once we got to Ettalong.



Once we situated ourselves on seats on the top deck of the ferry, it became clear how much we both were ready for some breathing room on the water and outside of the city.

“Mmmmmmm. We’re on a boat!,” we kept saying to each other. “It is SOOO nice to be on a boat.”

This was all before we even left the dock.

Once we were moving, we just basked in the postcard-worthy vistas.



It did get a bit treacherous near the end of the ride when the depth became rather shallow, but nothing our sea captains could not handle. If you look closely, you can see people “walking on water” on the sandbar.



We dismounted at Ettalong to find just one eetsy strip of shops and restaurants – the most significant portion of which was a square block open-air shopping center which dealt almost exclusively in suspiciously cheap clothing and household goods or beachy tourist kitch. It was both sad and enticing, at the same time. I was first very turned off by the depressingly ragged storefronts and cheap import wares, but by the end of our stroll through the little plaza, I was closely eyeing some of the clothing and houseware shops.

“You like this place,” Partner-in-Crime observed, bemusedly.

“It makes sense to me,” I told him. “At least, the prices make sense to me.” It is so rare here, particularly in Sydney, to be confronted with a whole center of stores with prices that do not induce migraines and other health issues.

Nonetheless, shopping was not our primary motivation – eating was (also, I was saving myself for a return trip to a thrift shop we passed on the way in from the ferry).

Well, we’d arrived in Ettalong at the worst possible time. Everyone in town seemed to have turned in for a collective afternoon nap, and none of the restaurants were open, since we got there a bit too late for the regular lunch hour. Hunger-induced crankiness was threatening to cast a pallor over our sunny mood when we found (and when I say, "we found" - I mean "we crossed the street to") the Ettalong Beach Cabana, situated rather more in the middle of a parking lot than on the beach. But … look how cute and Cuban Shabby Chic it is! Sold!



The friendly waitress gave us the bad news that the kitchen had just closed (of course it had …), but assured us that, while she could not fulfill my fish ‘n’ chips fantasy, she could certainly satisfy our hunger with a nice quiche or sandwich. We settled on very delicious salmon wraps. And, any residual sadness I had over my limited dining choices were cast aside when my chai latte arrived with a cinnamon Teddy Graham garnish.



By the time we were done, the Cabana was fully bolted down for the day, and our waitress was casting away an disgruntled potential customer, as she unlocked the door for us to leave. “Some people get so angry when we turn them away,” she said. “But we have a life! We can’t stay here all day!”

Yes, that does seem to be the town motto in Ettalong.

We had a few minutes before the next ferry, which I'd planned on ferreting away in the thrift shop, but alas … the town motto applies to charity shops, as well, and we found it darkened and locked.

Back in Palm Beach a little while later, we decided that the next appropriate move was to get ice cream and sit by the beach, as we fully ensconced ourselves in the tourist stereotype.

More soul-calming deep breaths characterized the rest of the afternoon, as we sat by the water, and watched it turn to early dusk. I loved the beach, with its luscious, caramel colored sand, set against rocky cliffs and crashing foam waves. There were a couple of hikes that purportedly offer excellent views, but we were so happy in our half-comatose states, that we opted out of these athletic pursuits.



Finally, we packed up our wind-chilled and reposed bodies and headed home.

There is really something to be said about a vacation that ends with sleeping in your own bed.