Sunday... Richie and I hit it down to a dying swell and a roaring offshore. Drove around for a bit, visited Bells for a toilet stop, drove some more, finally settling on giving Marky a call.
What's 13th like mate?
Tiny, but I'll go for a mal surf if you come 'round for a cuppa tea afterwards.
Ended up having a lovely session to ourselves on a little right, then a couple of others decided to paddle out so we ditched it. Too crowded.
As you can see it was packed.
The other two shots detail the Bell's dunny. (Oz for toilet, toilette en Francaise)
Painted by a local indigenous artist about 10 years ago (at least) it is a testimony to respect on many levels.
Respect for the original inhabitants and their lore.
Respect for the place. At its best a home away from home.
Respect for the artist. Not one piece of grafitti has ever graced it's exterior walls.
Respect for the kids who chose not to. There is hope yet.