“Why do they always hang out at the edge of the beach? Like they want everyone to see them…”
After walking about nine miles on the Tomaree Coastal Walk, a 14-mile hike in Port Stephens on Australia's east coast, we found ourselves at an impasse. And my mother was not impressed.
Battling hills, thick sand, and bushfire-ravaged bushes, we arrived at a pant-less sandy beach called Samurai Nudist Beach.
One Mile Beach, and beyond it was our final destination, Anna Bay, like an ancient castle, guarded not by a moat but by an army of nudists.
There was no way above it, no way around it, no way under it. we had to get through it.
As my mother pointed out, the nudists were clustered at both ends of the beach, as if they wanted to intimidate innocent hikers as much as possible.
Staring out at the sea of 4×4 vehicles with awnings, caravans with sun loungers, surfers, old people and families, as is always the case at nudist beaches, with their arms behind their backs, they saunter across the sand. I noticed a man wandering around. The “Samurai Sword” proudly flies out in front of you.
When he reached the rocks at the edge of the beach and finished his “patrol” of the area, I prayed that my mother wouldn't look down.
“They never told me there was a nudist beach,” my mother said.
Another old man was walking naked in the water with a bodyboard. Meanwhile, just around the corner from us, families were playing in front of their caravans and a few couples were sunbathing at the back of the beach.
To make matters worse, as we awkwardly ate lunch, every few minutes that passed, another vehicle plowed through the dunes, adding an army of samurai swords.
There were some young people, but most were surfers, and most were wearing wetsuits. They were in the middle of the beach.
Everyone was very polite and respectful of each other (and to be fair, we were warned by multiple signs). But still, to our sheltered and biased eyes, it was a bit insulting. The pale, wrinkled hell is forever etched in our minds.
I fed my mom and brother (what was supposed to be a fun family hike) some jelly snakes and trail mix and went swimming with my partner. I thought this would clear things up with the nudist colony, but things only got worse. The way they looked at my board shorts (imagined or not) was enough to send shivers down my spine.
I've never felt so criticized for not doing something (I was probably criticizing myself, even if no one actually judged me).
To remember this strange moment, we took some photos (of ourselves, not the nudists) on the rock, and a guy gave us a funny look. This was another failure. Never take photos on a nudist beach. If you don't, of course people will get annoyed.
We put our phones away, gathered our gear and continued walking. We thought we were in a sunny spot, but on the other side, the casual middle-aged couple you like, their shiny butts proud, walked past us and into the water. I walked.
There was another man here, lounging naked on a sun lounger by the truck. beauty.
At the end of the day, we discovered a hidden coastal paradise that was just as beautiful as Seal Rocks and its neighboring beaches, except less crowded and closer to Sydney, so worth the trek I decided that.
Similarly, after visiting Shoal Bay Country Club, you can win a cocktail jug for USD 23, listen to DJ remixes of Fred Again and Red Hot Chili Peppers, easily get a table without a reservation, and… I decided that. Port Stephens is the new Byron Bay, unless you don't mind the odd 'cutlass' brandished on some secluded beaches. No, that's no good. Better than Byron.
I think I'll try taking off my swimsuit next time.
