I can't resist adding another chapter to my rambling documentation of visits to the NSW South Coast (past instalments are here and here). 

In my mind, the South Coast is a distillation of a lot of the things that make the NSW coast so lovely. It's all these disparate wonders clustered together around a little bay. The beaches are uncorrupted and perfect; with white sand and water running from the brightest turquoise to deep clean blue.

A short drive inland, and you're in the kind of bushland that is just so uniquely Australian that it makes your heart sing for the likes of May Gibbs and Banjo Paterson. Big granite canyons rushing with water, wildflowers winding around every rock and trunk, and the specifically snakey feeling of bush undergrowth in this country. And there's nothing quite like seeing a towering waratah bloom in the wild... Seeing something so spectacular existing so quietly gives it an increased poignancy, a spark struck among the dusty grey-green march of the eucalypts. 

Even the farmland is beautiful, soft green rolls of hills leading out to the sea, the kind that make you want to quit the city and take up dairy farming. At least, for a minute. 

Actually, now that I think about it, every time I visit the South Coast I try to concoct a plan that involves me not heading back to the city. But dairy farming might be a bit out of my expertise sphere, I think...