The Roar of Roaring Beach

I'm particularly smitten with Roaring Beach. It's one of my top 5 beaches of all time. I think the name grabbed me initially, before I'd even seen it. My mother said matter-of-factly, "Oh, there's Roaring Beaches everywhere in Tassie. If it's got waves, they call it Roaring Beach". But I had to see it. You take a 7km winding dirt road from Nubeena, and then scramble up and over some sand dunes (it is here that my anticipation starts to build), through the coastal heath and past wombat poo and the odd dead tiger snake in the creek, to be greeted with a windswept, roaring beach set between two headlands and looking south to Bruny Island and the Hartz Mountains, with aptly named Wedge Island in the foreground. The waves are always roaring at Roaring, and the rock pools never disappoint if the swell(and temperature) don't suit your level of courage. The fossicking for washed-up treasure amongst the bank of rolling, smooth rocks is delightful; the cool, fresh southerly wind blasting in your face invigorates your body and soul. Today's visit, on the last day of the year, was timed well with blue, sunny skies and a nor-easterly gently blowing. Laden with wetsuits, towels, snacks and the boogie board we traipsed the sand dune path, Magnus' level of excitement equalling mine; "It's like we're in the desert, Mum!". And with the odd wallaby skeleton strewn over the sand, it was.
Both the boys caught some lovely little waves on the board, their bodies oblivious to the cool Southern Ocean current. I once again rejoiced in my investment of a full steamer wetsuit, the wearing of which there is an unwritten code - the time you spend in the water must equal, if not be greater than, the sum of the time it takes to put the wetsuit on and take it off. I followed that rule today for sure!