A morning in Angourie

A stone’s throw from the mouth of the Clarence River, a short eight minute drive down a single winding road will lead you to Angourie, a tiny surfing hamlet characterised by pandanus trees, cerulean waves and an other-wordly, quaint charm. 

Angourie is the Indigenous word for ‘noisy ocean’, a moniker which seems ironic as you descend the steps to Spookys Beach, having only realised that you’re steps from the sea as you emerge from a rainforest gully just moments earlier. Fringed by deep green vegetation and pockmarked with volcanic boulders, Spookys is a beach straight out of a South Pacfic guidebook, where a heady mix of salt, sunscreen and warm sand lingers in the air. And while this quiet coastal village may be fairly empty on the sand, its appeal exists largely out to sea - after being designated a National Surfing Reserve in 2007, it’s a regular haunt for the area's surfers seeking the best rollers and tubes whenever there’s a westerly on shore. 

We rise early, the subtropical heat in our accommodation rousing us from our slumber. Noticing, with some disappointment, that the local coffee shop Cafe Angourie is closed today as they navigate new ownership, we descend down to the beach, our bellies empty but our eyes feasting on the golden delights of dawn as the sun peeks over the horizon. It’s high tide and yet a family have pitched their pastel-hued umbrellas in the only available narrow strip of sand as their toddler paddles gaily in the foamy froth; a handful of men and women have arrived, surfboard tucked under their arms and squinting into the sun to assess the day’s surf.   

Round the corner at neighbouring Blue and Green pools, a group of kids leap gleefully off sandstone cliffs into the freshwater pools below; a ritual observed by no doubt thousands of children before them. The distinctive leaves of the pandanus tree - the hallmark of the Far North Coast and found up and down the coastal wet tropics - blow gently in the morning breeze. 

Being early March, the humidity is high and, at times, stifling; its presence a constant and in the absence of air con, cool showers and lunchtime dips are the only way to remain comfortable. We dine on fresh tiger prawns from neighbouring Yamba, a delicacy the town is known for, and take fitful afternoon naps on Pippi Beach, sprawling and rugged and open to the elements. 

Not a lot happens round these parts - and that’s precisely the way we like it.