The only reason, well almost the only reason, I went to Jervis Bay was to see the sand. It is claimed that the sand of Jervis Bay is the whitest is the world, a claim that I couldn’t find on the Most Impenetrable Guinness Book of World Records Website, but there’s a score of cites on Google, and until I see it for myself in the actual book, I am inclined to be a tad dubious, but since I have now seen the sands for myself, I am willing to believe it. I never felt the need for dark glasses before, but the glare from the sand was so intense that I had to keep looking away from the sands.
The camping trip, that started out so well, (so well that I even saw a shadowy shark lurking in the swell, the first shark I’ve seen, ever) threatened to come unhinged over the night as we experienced a torrential downpour, with mini streams running all over the campground, and tired of standing under the barbecue, we took refuge in the cars, where the shaking shivering trees up above evoked the gloom so well.
Finally, in desperation, a retreat to a pub, the Husky Pub, filled with teenyboppers and the streets of Huskisson were lined with barriers, all set for the triathlon the next day. A field of rows and rows of waiting bicycles.
The next morning was more promising, and we went on a walk to Murray’s beach, for it held the promise of more shadowy stingrays and miscellaneous sea creatures (like the sea hare) as well as cosy coves and green coated rocks.