It is winter here – although you wouldn’t know it.  The sun shines every day and because we haven’t had as much rain as normal, the bougainvillea and other flowering shrubs are all magnificent.

Next week we will feel differently I know – we are off to South Australia for ten days of food and wine plus exploring the Murray River but first we are off to Port Lincoln to visit the tuna farms and the wonderful Coffin Bay oysters.  It will be very cold down there, so we made the most of this glorious weather at the weekend.


A friend came over for the day on Sunday – to give his boat a bit of a run but also to have a walk with us and lunch at Picnic Bay before we all returned to town on the boat.


The walk to Picnic Bay is beautiful, especially at this cooler time of year.  It starts along the beach and finishes on this cliffside boardwalk with stunning views of the rocks and hoop pines before winding through a bush track into the little settlement.


At the top of the boardwalk, nestled in the rocks is an unusual painting – we call it “Scotch on the Rocks” and it was done at least thirty years ago by some creative person who had a vivid imagination.  The colours are somewhat faded but you can still make out the tam ‘o shanter and the eyes and mouth.


Beautiful views of Rocky Bay are always breathtaking and this time it was low tide.  There is a craggy path down to the beach and it is often deserted as it can only be reached on foot or by boat.


Then down along the bush track there are glimpses of the city of Townsville and the port.


Occasionally you can see a koala in the wild – you have to really look hard as they make the eucalypts their home and in places the leaves and branches are very dense.

After a beautiful lunch at the Picnic Bay Hotel and a leisurely wander back, we gathered our things, hopped on the boat and cruised back home.


This is Castle Hill and the Strand beach with the marina rock wall in the foreground.  We are back after a relaxing weekend.  Now to prepare for the ten days of birthday celebration.  I ask you – who celebrates for ten days straight?

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