Coastal Treasures

Standing on the corner of Ward and Boundary Streets in Coolangatta feels thrilling. The coastal sun is warming me nicely, its webs of golden light streaking through the giant Norfolk Pines planted by European pioneers. Behind me, Little Mali, a local espresso bar is wooing the morning crowd with its sweet coffee aromas and cheery salutations. This place, while a little treasure in its own right, is also the epicentre to all kinds of killing time for savvy nomads.
For surfing travellers, Snapper Rocks, renowned as one of the longest surf breaks in Australia, is a short stroll away. It’s here that amateur and professional board riders dip and bob to the rhythm of the swell waiting for their chance to seize the epic wave that surges off the point. If they’re lucky enough they’ll catch a ride past Rainbow Bay Beach, past fitness fanatics and wanderers on the walkway at Pat Fagan Park, and on to wave riding triumph.
But back on the corner there’s no surfing or sunbathing, just coffee and croissants at Little Mali and the promise of a good day.
Across the road a group of ruddy, course haired rugby players are training on the steep incline of Little Hill Street. ‘Hill runs boys. Let’s make it burn!’ the coach’s thick voice is carried across the road by the gentle coastal breeze. In a few moments when they reach the top, breathing heavily, each man will see below them the Tweed River, its shorelines dotted with eager early morning fishermen.
In the distance the outline of high rises at Surfers Paradise surge out of the blue Pacific horizon like an Emerald City by the sea. This is the place of super big amusement parks and super big shopping centres. In the hinterland beyond, world class national parks draw hikers and campers, photographers and adventurers.
But back on the corner there’s no awe inspiring vistas or coaster rides, just me, people watching outside Little Mali.
Little Mali with its rustic brick frontage and wide wooden door frames beckoning laid back locals and happy strangers. Where a couple of upturned milk crates serve as seats for waiting customers. Where ‘raw date slice’ and ‘smashed avocado’ are amongst the appetisers etched onto the chalk board on the wall outside.
For me it always feels thrilling to be standing here with a freshly ordered coffee in my hand because I know, that in a moment, I shall step off the cracked asphalt curb of this corner, away from Little Mali, and into a day filled with some kind of crazy adventure.