gone fishing
My best mates back in the day were Wayne Yates and Russell Jacobs. We were tight.
And when we were all young lads these cliffs were our turf from the airy crests to the shadowed bases and we all ignored the dangers of shaky ladders, shallow sandstone handholds and rusty chains.
We dared ourselves to climb down the airy voids, not willing to think about climbing back out.
Going fishing.
Where? Asked Mum.
Just down the road I replied.
She never knew.
To the left is Rosa Gully then the long slog along the cliff base dodging sets until we reached blackfish rock just out if the picture to the right, and that cave? Nothing but a dead run made it along that deadly passage when the seas were big. Caught and there was no escape.
Maybe that was the reason we eventually ended up at South Bondi and challenging the older surfing crew, our apprenticeship to mortal danger done and our youthful eagerness in a hurry to improve upon the experience.
Though, and in retrospect those older Bondi surfers recognised our hot-blooded recklessness and as was their way showed us by example how respect and daring usually won the day.
To them.
petebowes.com 
Did you fish the Murk? 🥴
Went to school with Carol Peel whose family owned Peels Dairy at Diamond Bay where they put a Bowling Club don’t know what’s there now. Ladder down cliffs for fishermen there too. Scary to see them do the climb on the rusty slippery ladder balancing fishing gear in one hand.
Yep, and I remember having to get rid of wads of toilet paper that wrapped around the line after you pulled it in for a rebait .. the stink down there was immense but there were plenty of fish, mostly blurters..
She never knew……..well not until I was sprung from a passing double decker bus dragging my fishing gear and a decent jewfish over the links at North Bondi Golf Club, then when I got home I knew that she knew!