A (cook)book of memories

‘I can see it! The beach!’

Asher pointed. Through the windscreen, a glimpse of blue water and sand could be seen filtering through the trees ahead. He swung his red bucket in glee.

‘Do you think this is the right place? There are no other cars here…’ I asked my husband Chris, who was behind the wheel. We had been driving north from Bicheno on Tasmania’s East Coast for almost an hour and a half, looking for a collection of beaches known as the Bay of Fires.

‘Please, Daddy?’ Asher pleaded from the back seat, whose only thought was sandcastles. Chris smiled, and pulled over. It was hard to say no to his three year old son.

With his seatbelt unfastened, Asher bounded out of the car and raced towards a path on a bushy sand dune. We grabbed a random assortment of beach paraphernalia and took off in hot pursuit. However, Asher stopped suddenly at the top of the dune. ‘Mummy’ his puzzled voice called out, ‘the beach looks funny’.

Granite boulders smeared with patches of bright orange lichen lay piled upon each other. The rocks cascaded into azure water, with patches of seaweed and schools of fish visible beneath its translucent surface. The white sand was without blemish, not even a footprint.

Each colour on its own was striking. Together, they were remarkable. And somehow, today, this view was all ours.

I knelt down beside Asher. ‘This place is called the Bay of Fires’ I told him gently. ‘Do you think you can tell me why?’

‘It kind of looks like it’s on fire?’

‘I think that’s a pretty good guess! Now, how about you and Daddy build some sandcastles for me?’

In response, Asher plopped himself in the sand and started feverishly digging. I took the brief opportunity to explore, scrabbling over rocks and rubbing pieces of furry lichen between my fingers. Occasionally, I would slip into a surprise rock pool and recoil at the icy water that had washed straight from the Antarctic. My mind momentarily dreamt of the warmth of summertime, but the vision quickly became clouded with other people disturbing the flawless sand. The only people who I wanted to share this place with were my husband and son.

I made my way back to Asher and Chris, who proudly showed me their chain of perfect white sandcastles. Asher then gestured excitedly at another beach, tinged with orange, visible in the distance.

‘Can we go there next? Please?’