There’s something timeless about catching the ferry from Circular Quay to Manly. As the city skyline slowly drifts away and the harbour opens up, it feels less like public transport and more like a small rite of passage every Sydneysider should experience. On this day, I had no real plan – just to get off at Manly and walk as far as I possibly could.
This was my first walk toward North Head and around that area, and I found it genuinely fascinating. With each step, the surroundings shifted – from familiar Manly paths into something quieter, more rugged, and far more reflective. It felt like discovering a part of Sydney I’d somehow missed, despite living here my whole life.
Collins Flat Beach was a standout. Secluded and peaceful, it felt hidden away from the rest of the city, almost secret. The sign noting that the beach is closed from sunset to sunrise only added to its mysterious atmosphere, as if it existed on its own terms. I lingered there longer than expected, taking it all in.
Passing through Q Station, the walk took on an even deeper sense of history and isolation. One sign in particular stopped me in my tracks – information about endangered bandicoots living in the area. It was a quiet reminder that this headland isn’t just scenic, but alive, and still protecting species that have managed to survive so close to the city.
By the time I reached North Head, I was ready for the payoff – but the lookout was closed due to upgrades. Surprisingly, I didn’t mind. The journey itself had already delivered more than enough. Being there, seeing the fencing, and knowing I’d come as far as I could felt satisfying in its own way.
As I made my way back, tired but content, I realised how interesting and layered this part of Sydney really is. Sometimes it takes a first walk – without expectations – to remind you just how much there still is to discover.