ONE of the best ways to spend a day in our childhood was to go out to the Back Beach. Unimpeded by adults, we would set off from the end of Broome Crescent, across the paddocks to the Rifle Range gate. We crossed the undulations in these paddocks made for market gardening during the war.
Any other time we would be re-enacting things seen at the Saturday arvo flicks (These would involve inching along the furrows, whooping, shooting from cover, playing cowboys and Indians.) but now we had a different agenda – the beach. We cut across more paddocks, skirted tannin-stained swamps, hunted for Wonthaggi Monster tracks, passed the Southern Tunnel airshafts, skirted Lake Lister, breasted the dunes – Bass Strait, here we come!