Splashing water in glee, hand-in-hand my two daughters wade either side of an imaginary line that runs the length of a glorious coastal inlet.
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"Look, I'm in New South Wales, and you're still across the border," hollers Sarah my 12-year-old at Emily her younger sister, cupping her hands to spray even more water in her face.
Think Australian beachside state borders and most think of the Queensland twin towns of Tweed Heads (NSW) and Coolangatta (QLD), but this boundary is much closer to home. Emily is actually in the 70 square kilometre Jervis Bay Territory (JBT), just south of Nowra.
Now, contrary to what most believe, the JBT is not part of the ACT, rather it's a territory its own right, just like our Indian Ocean Territories, Christmas and Cocos Islands, and administered by the Australian government. That said, most ACT laws apply here and its residents vote with us in federal elections.
But we aren't here to delve into a pandora's box of jurisdictional curiosities - the yowie clan is here to indulge in a much-anticipated summer escape, and this idyllic inlet is the perfect antidote to what was a hectic 2019.
Sussex Inlet is the primary outflow for St Georges Basin, which holds about 40 per cent of the water of Sydney Harbour, so when the tide changes there's quite a strong current, ideal for floating along on the air mattress. Not so ideal if you leave your brand new water-proof radio on a sand island to listen to Jim Maxwell's dulcet tones calling the cricket. And forget about when the tide starts rushing back in. Oh well, Jim does rabbit on a bit these days.
Abandoned radios floating out to sea aside, it's one of those perfect summer days, a gentle nor'easter, not a cloud in the sky and what's better, no blue bottles.
Just about every beach game you can think of is unravelling, all seemingly with rules made up as you go. There's classic catches, duck diving, volleyball (using fishing line as a net) and some that mix all three.
The wash of passing boats gives Sarah an unwanted new challenge while trying to balance on a stand-up paddle board, while in preparation for the turning tide, Emily is digging a moat around her sandcastle. Meanwhile dad has overcome the loss of his radio and is fielding ''in the deep'' in a game of beach cricket. Deep water that is! Best place to be on a hot day, until someone skies the ball into the sun. Oops, forgot the sunnies.
Ahh. This is the summer holidays of my childhood. Sun, sand, and not a worry in the world.
But all good days have to come to an end, and with the sun dipping over the line of holiday shacks on the western side of the inlet, it's time drag the boogie boards out of the water, grab the thongs and head for home.
While some pack up their boats and chug upstream to far flung boat ramps and others haul their overladen eskies to their cars, we stroll under the towering Norfolk Pines past the bocce field (really!) and all of 50 metres back to our camp.
The kids are exhausted, so are their dad and mum. So after a barbecue dinner and an unusually quick round of marshmallows around the communal fire pit, we creep into our tent. This isn't your Kmart four-person job, this is a luxury Bell Tent complete with real beds.
Beds so comfy, that, arranged under a sky of fairy lights and to the sound of distant crashing waves, before you can ask ''did you do the zip up?'' we drift off to sleep.
Dawn breaks early and there's no better way to start the day than with an outdoor shower. Not standard beach ones. Think architecturally-designed wooden cubicles with no roof and one of those rainwater shower heads. I know they're not the best for water conservation, but hey one or two days isn't going to hurt, is it?
The best thing about The Cove, apart from the proximity to the inlet (and did I mention the beds?) is that there is no need to leave if you don't want to. Well, until you check-out that is.
Every summer tens of thousands of beachgoers flock to the white sands on the other side of Jervis Bay. They fight for a car park, queue for a coffee, wait an hour or more for overpriced lunch only to finally squabble over a patch of hot sand at Hyams Beach, which we all now know isn't the whitest sand in the world after all.
In other trips to Jervis Bay we've checked out the nearby St George Lighthouse (or what's left of it after it was blown up by the Navy after it was determined that it was in the wrong spot) or even the little-known JBT Botanic Gardens, but on this summer sojourn we don't leave our little slice of paradise once. And why would you?
Oh, and if any yachties spot a radio floating down the coast, please pluck it from the briny and send to the address at the end of this column.
The Cove Jervis Bay: Ellmoos Road, Via Booderee National Park, Jervis Bay. Ph. 02 4441 2018 or visit thecovejervisbay.com.au. Due to this season's fire danger, access to Booderee National Park may be restricted, best to check when booking.
Border hi-jinx: For years I've heard stories of travellers hitting a golf ball from one state, across another and into a third at Cameron Corner where the borders of South Australia, New South Wales and Queensland meet. Does anyone have photographic evidence of such a feat?
CONTACT TIM: Email: timtheyowieman@bigpond.com or Twitter: @TimYowie or write c/- The Canberra Times, 9 Pirie St, Fyshwick.
How long will the Pialligo Redwoods survive?
The bushfire that recently began as the Pialligo Redwoods fire prompted several readers to ask about the history of the little-known forest located on the northern side of Fairbairn Avenue, just east of the airport.
"Oh, is that what they are called?" commented Penny Standen of Kambah adding, "and who planted them?"
This history of the forest actually dates back to our city's first decade when despite advice that Canberra's climate was too dry for these American giants, Walter Burley Griffin directed horticulturalist Charles Weston to plant more than 120,000 redwoods (both Sequoia sempervirens and Sequoia giganteum) here between 1912 and 1920.
Perhaps Walter should have taken heed of the advice, for today there are less than 2000 trees remaining. While many have succumbed to the lack of water, in the 1960s a significant number of the trees were also removed to enable the Canberra airport to be extended.
On a visit to the site earlier this week to examine the fire damage (only a small patch of 100 or so trees appear to have been burnt), I observed a significant number of the remaining trees dead or close to it, with only the hardiest surviving in parts of the grove where moisture is sufficient.
Rather than dwelling on the dead trees, given the prevailing climatic and soil conditions, it's remarkable that any have survived at all, and even more so that some have reached a mature form.
During the early 1980s, in an effort to stop trees dying, a watering system was rigged up. Apparently the water came from main emergency water line at the airport but eventually the water system was abandoned to concerns there might not be sufficient water in case of an emergency.
Unless they are again irrigated in some way, if this drought continues it may not be long before the Pialligo Redwoods become a forest of dead giants.
A sign of the times.
CONTACT TIM: Email: timtheyowieman@bigpond.com or Twitter: @TimYowie or write c/- The Canberra Times, 9 Pirie St, Fyshwick.
WHERE IN CANBERRA?
Cryptic Clue: Callum was here.
Degree of difficulty: Medium
Last week:
Congratulations to first-time winner Narelle Blackaby of Flynn, who was first to correctly identify last week's photo as the main stairs at The Royal Australian Mint which are embedded with 15,000 five-cent coins, totalling $750.
How to enter: Email your guess along with your name and address to timtheyowieman@bigpond.com. The first email sent after 10am, Saturday February 1, 2020 will win a double pass to DENDY CINEMA - THE HOME OF QUALITY CINEMA.
MAILBAG
All the rivers run dry
Not surprisingly, it's not just at Tharwa that the Murrumbidgee has virtually stopped flowing. Downstream, about 25 kilometres south of Yass, at Taemas Bridge the 'bidgee has been ''reduced to small channel", reports Scott Yates whose grandfather Tommy Yates and his brother Roy "Raddle" Yates both worked on building the iconic bridge in the late 1920s to early 30's.
Further north, according to Phill Sledge of Kaleen, the landmark waterhole where the Paddys River flows under the M31 between Marulan and Sutton Forest is now "all but a dust bowl".
We need rain. Badly.