Sanctuary

It was on this small stretch of sand where Tess first offered to show me hers. As a thirteen-year-old boy I was transfixed by my older neighbour. When she had invited me somewhere private and special, I thought a life-changing experience awaited me. With time, this proved to be true, though not in the way my hormonally inspired thoughts had hoped.

‘It is my journal,’ she said removing a small book from her bag that had the states jubilee symbol that was omnipresent in 1986. I was brought back to earth realising that this was all she was showing me. I was too young to appreciate that what she was revealing to me was far more personal and special than what I had hoped to see.

‘This is my sanctuary,’ she said. Snowden Beach was a unique piece of South Australia. It was the one small section of beach on this side of the Lefevre Peninsula. Although we lived nearby, a trip to the beach had always meant to Largs or Semaphore, and I had never thought that such a place existed on the Port River.

‘I come here to write in my journal. The peaceful surrounds allow me to think clearly and get all my thoughts in place,’ she said.

‘What do you write?’ I asked.

‘What I see, what I do and what I feel.’

As always, my focus remained on Tess, but her eyes were darting everywhere bar me. The skies, the water, the factories across the other side on the port, the natural life, and the boats around us.

‘It’s beautiful, don’t you think.’

I nodded my head, understanding that it is what she expected from me.

‘Listen to what I wrote here last week,’ she said.

People are cruel, so often unkind

They shake me, they break me, but what they will find

I have an escape where they’re gone from my mind

My sanctuary at Snowden Beach

Where dolphins perform and I feel it’s for me

They know me, they show me, and they let me see

Some spend a fortune, but I’ve got it here free

My sanctuary at Snowden Beach

Rowing crews train, their oars aligned

Improvement to find, Olympics in mind

I watch them all pass with a much-relaxed mind

My sanctuary at Snowden Beach

The sand on my feet the wind in my hair

The birds in the air, my mind without care

Alone in the moment life’s suddenly fair

My sanctuary at Snowden Beach

The water, the sand, the river, the land

The fish and the birds, the pictures, the words

The sailors, the rowers, the dreamers, the knowers

To learn and to teach, to grasp and to reach

To help and to grow, develop and know

To hear natures call, and appreciate all

My sanctuary at Snowden Beach

‘I like it,’ I said, ‘but what did you mean at the start? About people being cruel?’

‘You know. Sometimes people are mean. They say bad things.’

‘To you?’

‘Yeah, but I guess to everybody at some point. I’ve just had a bit more of it lately.’ She looked like she was about to start crying, and though I was curious what sort of things people had said to upset her so much, I decided it was better to change topics and make her feel better.

‘Do you just write poems in your journal?’ I asked.

‘No, like I say, whatever is on my mind. Like now for instance, I can say that Brad followed me down to Snowden Beach and asked heaps of annoying questions.’

I apologised.

‘It’s all good. I don’t mind sharing the spot with you. I think you should get a journal too and start writing all that you do, see and feel. You might not know it now, but everything you experience is a lesson. The more you keep a record, the more you learn. The more you learn, the better your life is.’

‘You sound like a teacher.’

She laughed. ‘My teachers wouldn’t say that. I don’t listen in class enough but that’s because I don’t think they teach us what we really need to learn. They don’t teach about life. Life is a miracle and learning about it is amazing. We live in an incredible world. Nature. We need to remember that each of us are just tiny insignificant specks on this earth.

She explained how problems were a part of life that could never be avoided, but they do not need to keep us so down all the time.

‘That’s why it’s so good to have a special place like this. You come here, you breathe in the air, feel the sand between your toes. If your lucky you see a dolphin, and if not, you can focus on the birds and the rest of the marine life. We can learn from them.’

‘Learn what?’

‘Our lives are so complicated. Every year they get more complicated. For every other creature life stays the same, year on year. We need to live more like them. Humans are so much smarter than every other animal, but for all that intelligence, we don’t make life better. I mean, some things are better, but those things always come with a cost.’

Tess excitedly pointed out into the river where she had seen a dolphin briefly appear.

‘Keep your eyes peeled around that spot,’ she said pointing in the direction in front of the power station. ‘Hopefully they’re moving this way.’

It was only a matter of seconds later that we both saw a dolphin briefly surface again.

‘Cool, they’re coming closer,’ she said. ‘Dolphins are amongst the smartest living creatures. We can definitely learn from them.’

Soon the dolphins had moved to about twenty metres from the shore. Three jumped very close together. They had barely appeared until they were at their closest point, but then for a minute they kept showing themselves.

‘They are performing for us, Brad. It’s not an accident. They are so beautiful. So intelligent. So perceptive.’

She was right. They were captivating. They were just performing for us. She understood them well enough that it felt like they were here just for her.

*

I started a journal the following day, but it was only after the tragedy six months later that I started using it regularly. I missed Tess unbelievably, and I felt drawn to Snowden Beach to remember her in the environment that she loved so much.

When Tess brought me here, she was all I saw. Now, I see everything as she did, and I feel her presence whenever I am here.

Her mother gave me a stuffed toy dolphin. Tess got it on a holiday to Queensland many years earlier, but it was only through her affinity with Snowden Beach and the adjacent river that the toy became a treasure. I was far too old for stuffed toys, but this quickly became a treasure to me. Tess had named her Salty. It may seem like a silly souvenir, but it helped me retain the memories. It is not what we hold in our hands, but what we hold in our hearts that is precious. Salty ensured that what was in my heart stayed strong and the memories would be secure there.

Life was simple when I came to Snowden Beach. There were no pending school assignments. My failure to get a kick in the school football team’s loss the previous week did not matter. Fights with my brother or Mum and Dad were forgotten. Even the heart-breaking loss of Tess seemed more bearable here. While the place was a constant reminder of her, it was a reminder of everything good. Coming here I did not mourn her loss; I celebrated her life.

Sometimes I sat on the sand for hours. I wrote in the journal, and just like she told me, I wrote about what I saw, what I had done and what I had felt. I never reread anything when I was here; that was something I did days, weeks, months or even years later at home. When I was here it was purely to soak in the surrounds and to record the experience.

After a while I always walked to the water and went in ankle-deep. From there I walked up and down the section of the beach, from the breakwater rocks at the north to the edge of the marina at the far end. Usually, the feeling of the water put a raft of additional thoughts in my mind, and I would return to the journal with something more to write.

Ever since Tess left us, I did not see a dolphin here. They were still around in different parts of the river but I suspected they did not want to come and play here without their favourite human. That was the little bit of sadness that came with every trip to Snowden Beach. I do not think we need to avoid sadness, for it is part of life. It is in sadness that we learn to appreciate happiness. It is the industry across the river, which makes the nature around it seem so beautiful. Balance is essential to life. Every high has a corresponding low.

*

I have spent over an hour on my bicycle, riding the familiar roads that have ended at George Robertson Drive. Maps suggest it is a road to nowhere, but at its end is Snowden Beach.

Thirty-six years after Tess first brought me here, this place remains a part of my life. It is no longer a short walk, but it warrants the extra time and effort to return here. As it had been for Tess, it has forever remained a sanctuary for me.

I no longer keep a journal as such, but I can never come here without an exercise book and a pen. The very essence of being here means recording what I do, see and feel. The words Tess said remain locked in my memory. I wish her story had been a happier one, but I am grateful for the lessons it gave me. Snowden Beach is a special part of the legacy she left for me.

My wife and children have been here with me, but I prefer to come alone. It is the solitude that allows me to focus entirely on the gift nature has given us. Of course, this is not complete solitude, for you are never completely alone here. There is always activity nearby. There are fishers on the quest for the catch of the day. There are people engaging in water sports, be it sailing, rowing or kayaking. There are tourists pursuing the sight of dolphins. Though they cannot be made out individually, there is always activity across the river at the industrial heart of Port Adelaide. Yet on this small stretch of sand, there are rarely people imposing on your space. It is not on the middle of a walking path like other Adelaide beaches.

It is the imperfections in life that make for the greatest highlights. When people define the best beaches, they list features that cannot exist here. Geography limits what it can be, but it is those very limits that make for its strength. The greatest beauty is not the one that attracts the attention of the most people, it is the one that attracts the most attention from any given person. What we each find most beautiful will vary, but here, without distraction, the assessment of how beautiful the surroundings are can be done with ease.

Not all flaws add character. As I step along the sand, I see the plastic wrapper from a six-pack of beer that has been left on the beach. A little further down lies the remnants of someone’s fast food meal that they have brought here to eat. It takes so little for people to dispose of their rubbish, but little isn’t nothing, and nothing is as much as some people give. I do not believe anybody wants to see nature ruined with rubbish, but some people just do not see the benefit in doing their little bit for the greater good.

Not everyone had someone like Tess to inspire them. At the time it seemed like the world revolved around her, but she was just a girl. Then again, I was just a boy. It takes nothing more to inspire or be inspired.

I wonder. If Tess had shown me what I most wanted to see on that day in 1986, where would that have led. Instead of coming to Snowden Beach and learning to appreciate the beauty of nature, I might have learned immediate gratification. Getting what we want is not a bad thing, but understanding the bigger picture is essential. Taking slower steps towards our goals give us a greater appreciation.

I sat now on a cleaner beach. As always, I surveyed the scene exactly as Tess did. I close my eyes and breathe in the air, before opening them to slowly survey the scene the whole way around me.

A child of no more than 3 years old is at the end of the beach with his Mum, his grandpa and their pet labradoodle. Grandpa has a fishing rod out and is showing the small boy how to fish, though the child is more interested in carrying his bucket and collecting little stones. Milo, who I have learnt the name of through Mum’ constant requests for him to come back, is loving having a swim and is also attempting to fish. Mum makes it knee-deep in the water, but more for relief from the heat than in pursuit of Milo.

Seagulls followed a large riverboat cruising north along the river. They were not flying so much as hovering, saving their energy to swoop on any unsuspecting schools of small fish. The passengers on the boat were far more interested in the prospect of spotting dolphins, but in their absence the seagulls must have commanded attention. They had been given enough of an indication that their presence was going to lead them to a reward, so they followed, at least as far as I watched them for.

Another car pulls up. A set of grandparents with another child, this one about five, and a little bit more ready for his grandpa’s fishing lesson. While Grandma sits on the park bench closest to the Girl Guides Hall, her husband and grandson move to the water’s edge.

And then the star of the show appeared. A dolphin. Just appearing briefly above the water and then hiding back beneath it. My eyes were locked on that section of water, hoping to see it reappear. The wait was just fleeting before once again the dolphin leapt gloriously above the water. Closer.

An elderly man had been walking his dog behind us. He heard the commotion and moved towards the sand. There were now ten people across the length of the beach, all of us united in our wish. For a moment we all forgot our journals, our pet dogs, our sandcastles, our fishing rods and our drink bottles. As the dolphin jumped from the water, we all gasped and cheered. The grandmother had her phone out, videoing the performance. The old man with the dog talked about how often they come that close. The grandpa by the rocks was showing more excitement than anyone.

The five different sets of people on the beach had previously not made eye-contact, had not communicated, and had been oblivious to each other. While the dolphin performed for us, we were connected. We shared our excitement with each other. Like a school of fish or a flock of gulls, we were now a beach of people.

The dolphin stayed and played for a couple of minutes, then disappeared up the river. I have absolutely no doubt that the performance was exactly that. An intelligent creature who saw a crowd to entertain and chose to do it.

When the dolphin left, the old man and the dog walked back past the Girl Guide Hall to his car. The six-year-old did not want to fish, and his grandparents took him home. The smaller boy and his grandpa started a sandcastle, while the mum and Milo continued to wade in the water. I thought about Tess, and in amongst all the joy and happiness the scene had provided, tears briefly started streaming down my face.

For three quarters of my life, the connection between Snowden Beach, dolphins and Tess has been profound. Every thought of one leads to the other two. Part of me feels like the spirit of Tess was within the dolphin, and she had not come to entertain a crowd, but to say hello to me, and thank me for remembering her. How could I forget when she had such a profound impact on shaping me.

She was right about so much. Our disparate human world can connect so easily through the wonders we can find in nature. Few species disconnect the way we do. For all our intelligence, we seem to have lost sight of the fact that it is the strength of unity that enables growth.

The dolphin sanctuary is around the other side of Garden Island. I have taken my family several times to enjoy the wonder of the mangroves on a quest to spot these beautiful mammals, with various levels of success. Soon after, I always return to my sanctuary. Snowden Beach.