Smuggler’s Cove (in name and nature)

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We were unsure if it was safe to eat, or even legal to pick the oysters that were strewn across the shallows. The white shells easy to spot against the dark volcanic rock, stuck together in clumps of half a dozen, their vast numbers seemed to suggest they were either dangerous or illicit. Did this count as ‘fishing’? We weren’t sure if this kind of activity was allowed in a protected marine park, or if we had the right permits.

“Oyster Bay (by name only)” – the guidebook described the next bay along the coast; was it no longer a suitable seafood habitat, or picked dry? Maybe it was just inaccessibility that preserved the oyster population on this tiny beach tucked in Smuggler’s Cove. We hoped this was the case as we loaded 6 into the deck hatch. Enough to enjoy, but not so many as to be wasted if they were no good – We could have filled the two kayaks.

Having spent my 23 years as a city dweller, having just picked up a luxury lunch for free had me smiling broadly. Or maybe it was the rush of a cargo of potential contraband?

With a hull of oysters, hidden from the beating sun, we launched back into the water. The tiny rocky passage, our shortcut out – was cut off by low tide. Take the long way around. Smugglers Cove (in name and nature).


Lake Fishing along the Sunshine Coast

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The road between Madeira Park and Egmont was narrow and windy. Following the yellow lines of the road to stay in lane, striking black marks appeared – some traced concerning trajectories that ended beyond the asphalt. More appeared and soon it seemed the dark rubber deposits were all over the road.
The straight sections were marked with donuts and drifts that zig-zagged along the highway; black figures of eight sprawled across all lanes in spots where the road was wide enough to accommodate them.
As if the stretch of road wasn’t winding enough – now the straightaways were slaloms too.

We pondered the activity that produced such deliberate marks as we continued on to the first lake.