Tucked away from Harrison Hot Springs was Sandy Cove Beach. It may have only been about a kilometre up and down a winding path, but it seemed like a world away. I met no one along the trail but when I arrived at the beach, a flock of birds took off, their wings clapping the air.
Although the beach was deserted, there were footprints and a name engraved into the sand. I couldn’t resist rubbing out some of their letter so that the message was no longer Gordon someone or other, but Go on farty.
This would have been an ideal spot to swim in the summer. But on the day I arrived, it was icy. I couldn’t wait to return and submerge myself in the hot spring pools that awaited.