I caught the light rail out to Anzac Bridge to begin the walk, wanting a clean start and a sense of intention. There’s something about stepping off public transport and immediately committing your feet to the pavement that makes a long walk feel ceremonial.
As I crossed the bridge, a roadside sign reading “Vax the Nation” caught my eye. It hit a nerve. I remember feeling an immediate flash of anger – not enough to ruin the day, but enough to remind me how heavy and divisive that period still felt in 2022. I let the feeling pass and kept moving. That, in a way, became the quiet theme of the walk: acknowledge, then continue.
The view from Iron Cove Bridge was a reward in itself – water stretching out beneath a pale winter sky, calm and expansive. It felt like the city exhaling. My first proper stop was the Oxford Hotel Drummoyne. Being a Friday, and with time off in lieu of an on-call weekend, I had the luxury of slowing down. The bartender asked what I did for work. When I said IT, he joked that IT guys never work and are known for bludging. I found it offensive and wildly inaccurate, but I let it slide. I wasn’t going to let one lazy comment steal a hard-earned day off.
From there, the walk really opened up. Past Huntleys Point and around Tarban Bay, the views were spectacular – water flickering through the trees, quiet pockets that made Sydney feel almost coastal-rural rather than metropolitan. By the time I reached Riverview and walked underneath the bridge there, the shade was a welcome reprieve from the sun, a cool pause before pushing on.
At Longueville Sporting Club, I stopped for another beer. These suburban clubs have a way of grounding you – unpretentious, familiar, and honest. From there, the journey became a series of small, memorable moments: crossing a bridge in Greendale Park, passing through the tunnel at Wollstonecraft, spotting a kookaburra perched like it owned the place.
As I reached Waverton, there was a quiet relief in knowing the finish line was close. The smell of wattle hung in the air – that unmistakable Australian winter scent that always feels nostalgic, even when you’re not sure why. At McMahons Point, I could actually see where I’d started – Anzac Bridge in the distance – and that’s when the sense of achievement really landed. The city folded back on itself, the loop complete.
I finished with a beer at the Kirribilli Club, not knowing at the time it would close a couple of years later. Looking back, I’m glad I got to experience it while it was still there. Some places disappear quietly, and you only realise later how lucky you were to pass through them.
Finally, I crossed the Sydney Harbour Bridge on foot. By then, my legs were heavy and my mind pleasantly empty. I was more than ready to go home – tired in the best way – after a long day’s walk and a journey that felt bigger than just the kilometres covered.