Enjoy the remarkable coastline of Crescent Head.
With long legs that would be the envy of ballerinas, a surfer dances gracefully down his board. Gliding to the nose and back again, pirouetting and stepping. A crumbling wave pushes him from the headland as the dawn sun casts a pink glow across the Pacific Ocean.
Dressed in tracksuit pants and a jumper, I watch in awe his silent performance; the surfer oblivious to the spectators on the pandanus-lined shore. Eventually, he drops into the water and paddles back toward the headland, where early risers are enjoying the sunrise over Killick Beach and Crescent Head.
Fellow RVers make their way to the footpath tracing the coastline's curves as I struggle to look away from the lanky surfers in their wetsuits. A generation ago, my father would have been one of them. At age 14, he’d hitch rides with older mates from the Central Coast to Crescent, on the Mid-North Coast. Five hours later, he’d arrive in the dark, sleep in semi-open timber sheds on the foreshore, and wake at the crack of dawn ready to hit the waves.
