Winter warmup at the beach

We set off after work on a dark Friday night with a sense of adventure, our windscreen wipers on full and the car getting knocked around by rampant gusts of wind.

We have a scheduled rendezvous with Stuart, the bach owner, to collect the key for our weekend accommodation. We take shelter from the almost horizontal rain in a doorway as we wait for him and watch leaves and broken branches thrash along the footpath, intermittently illuminated by passing cars. Stuart arrives and cheerfully gives us instructions on how to get into the house. "Nice weather for it!" We couldn't agree more.

With no streetlights, the darkness envelops us as we drop down into the valley at the coast. Our headlights cut a swathe through the writhing bush. We find the bach tucked up a short driveway near the beach and flick our lights on high beam to find the door.

Struggling breathlessly inside with our bags and armloads of firewood from the stash of freshly chopped logs in the shed, we laugh at each other's windswept,wide-eyed appearance and peel off our soggy outer layers.

The fire quickly catches and soon the house is toasty and snug. Curled up with glasses of red wine, listening to the rain lashing against the windows and wind howling outside we are completely content.

By morning the rain has eased, but the wind persists: perfect weather for an invigorating walk along the beach. We're the only people there, as confirmed by our solitary footprints in the blank canvas of storm-swept sand.

On the exposed beach, the top layer of soft sand has been blown away, leaving wave-like crests where shells and other storm detritus have formed barricades against the wind.

We loop back to the house and tumble inside with tangled hair and flushed cheeks, shaking the sand out of our clothes. The rest of the afternoon is whiled away with steaming cups of tea by the freshly stoked fire.

When it comes time to head home on Sunday, the storm has abated and the valley is filled with damp winter sunshine and birdsong. We drive back to the city feeling relaxed and revitalised; our stale cobwebs rinsed away with the wind and rain.

Reprinted from AA Directions

Winter issue June 2008