Sydney Is Slowly Moving from Winter into Spring

The morning air was still cool at around 8°C, but by midday, the sunlight had become surprisingly warm. It no longer felt quite like winter.

Standing at the turning point between winter and spring, I set off today to walk the coastal path from Manly to Spit Bridge.

I had walked around Spit Bridge once before, but I had never walked the entire coastal path from Manly to Spit Bridge. So I was looking forward to today’s walk.

I caught an early train, but there were noticeably more people than usual. After several days of rain and cloudy weather, the sky had finally cleared, and it seemed everyone was eager to get outside and enjoy the sunshine.

Originally, I planned to take a bus from Wynyard Station to Spit Bridge and start the walk from there.

But travel rarely goes exactly according to plan.

As luck would have it, today was the day of the Sydney Marathon.

With roads closed in various parts of the city, bus services were also affected, so I couldn’t get directly to Spit Bridge. I was a little confused at first, but unexpectedly, this change of plans led me to a scene I hadn’t expected to see.

The streets were filled with marathon runners and people cheering them on. Along the route, locals held up signs, danced, and applauded as the runners made their way past.

Watching them, I soon found myself caught up in the excitement and energy of the crowd.

The plan didn’t work out as expected, but strangely enough, I didn’t mind.
Instead, the unexpected change made for a pleasant start to the walk.

So I changed direction.

I headed to Circular Quay, where I would catch a ferry across the harbour and make my way to Manly.

Manly Wharf

I arrived at Manly Wharf.

I pass through here once or twice a year when I go out for a walk. I don’t come here very often, but strangely enough, the harbour feels different every time I visit.

In summer, with Christmas approaching, the beaches are filled with people enjoying swimming and surfing. On a day like today, when the Sydney Marathon is taking place, the harbour is busy with runners making their way home after finishing the race.

It’s the same place, yet the harbour always seems to show a different face, depending on the people I meet, the weather, and what is happening that day.

Today, the sky was exceptionally clear. Beneath the cloudless blue sky, the harbour seemed to shine even bluer.

It was hard to tell whether the sea was reflecting the sky, or the sky had been turned upside down and laid across the water. The sea and sky were endlessly blue.

I don’t know why the clear blue sky touched something so deeply inside me today.

I only know that, for a while, my heart seemed to take on the same deep blue as the sky, and everything felt calm and clear.

Forty Baskets Beach

Leaving Manly behind, I arrived at Forty Baskets Beach.

On the beach, people lay on the sand, soaking up the warm sunshine that had finally returned after several days of cloudy weather. Nearby, others ran along the beach with their dogs, enjoying the waves and sharing laughter.

It was just an ordinary afternoon, nothing particularly special. Yet everyone seemed to be enjoying the moment in their own way.

The warm sunlight, the gentle breeze, and the simple happiness of having someone or something beside you were enough to make it a beautiful afternoon.

As I watched them, a thought suddenly came to me.

Maybe the happiness we dream of isn’t something grand or extraordinary after all.
Maybe it’s simply lying under the warm sunshine without a care in the world, or running along the beach with a beloved dog.

Perhaps happiness is right there, hidden in the ordinary moments of everyday life.

It was nothing more than an ordinary afternoon, yet for a moment, it felt like the most beautiful scene in the world.

I felt a little envious.

Perhaps, someday, a simple and warm day like this will come to me too.

Reef Beach

Reef Beach wasn’t a place with anything particularly striking or spectacular like some of the other beaches nearby. It was more of a small, simple beach, and there weren’t many people around.

Perhaps that was what made it feel so peaceful. There was something nice about its simplicity, and the quietness made me want to stay for a while.

Dobroyd Head

The path to Dobroyd Head gradually climbs uphill. It wasn’t particularly difficult, but with little shade from the trees, the sunlight felt quite strong rather than pleasantly warm.

But as I got closer to the top, the view opened up, revealing a beautiful panorama before me. It was a breathtaking sight, and more than worth the climb I had just made.

Grotto Point

At Grotto Point, I also came across Aboriginal rock engravings. They were not large or spectacular.

But knowing that these simple markings were left on the rocks by people who lived on this land thousands of years ago, they suddenly felt far more meaningful.

So much time has passed, yet their stories still remain here, etched into the rocks.

Past Clontarf Beach and Back on the Trail

As I passed Clontarf Beach, the scenery gradually began to change.

And then, along the trail, I came across an unexpected visitor.

It was a wallaby, a small member of the kangaroo family. I hadn’t expected to see one along the way, and the unexpected encounter added a little joy to my walk that day.

The path became a little more challenging from here.

The walk to Grotto Point Lighthouse was more difficult than I expected. The trail continued uphill with a series of steps, leading deeper into the bush. Even finding the entrance wasn’t easy, and I had to stop several times to look around and make sure I was on the right path.

The young Australian couple walking ahead of me toward the lighthouse looked around and eventually turned back, saying, “It looks like there’s no way through anymore.”

I hesitated for a moment too. But after coming all this way, I didn’t want to simply turn around. So I decided to look for a way through and keep going.

Carefully making my way through the bushes, I continued deeper into the area. After quite a while, the lighthouse finally came into view.

I was happy to find it, but at the same time, I couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed. It seemed there had once been a path leading to the lighthouse, but much of it has now disappeared. Perhaps after years without many visitors, nature has slowly reclaimed the path.

From Fisher Bay to Spit Bridge

The final section, from Fisher Bay to Spit Bridge, felt a little less interesting compared with the earlier stretch from Manly.

Along the way, similar-looking beaches continued on my left. Some had the soft, sandy shores we usually imagine, while others were more rugged, where rocks met the water instead of fine sand.

If you are expecting beautiful sandy beaches along the way, the final section may feel a little uneventful.

But looking back at the walk from beginning to end, very little went exactly according to plan.

The bus wasn’t running, so I took a ferry instead. I came across an unexpected scene of people cheering on the marathon runners, then started walking from Manly beneath a clear blue sky. I passed small beaches, discovered ancient engravings carved into the rocks, and even had an unexpected encounter with a wallaby.

I also spent some time searching for a lighthouse that wasn’t easy to find.

Finally, after walking along a somewhat quieter and more monotonous stretch, I arrived at Spit Bridge.

Looking back, it was those unexpected changes from the original plan that made today’s walk even more special.

I am walking at the turning point between the seasons.

And perhaps, as I walk, I am also crossing the space between who I am now and the person I may become in the future.

Just as one season naturally gives way to the next, perhaps I, too, am slowly becoming someone different without even realizing it.