Shellharbour wins you over with its stunning views. Photo: Kellie O’Brien.
Dear Shellharbour, more than 10 years ago, I picked you over Wollongong – a bold move that shocked many, considering months earlier I’d never heard of you.
Surprisingly, you’re not shown on Tasmanian TV screens at the same rate as the Spirit of Tasmania is shown here.
But there was something about your small-town charm that reminded me of Tassie: your slower, more coastal pace, your casual nods and mumbled “g’days” from strangers on footpaths, and your family-friendly vibe that seemed to scream “we have excellent playgrounds and a Bunnings sausage sizzle every Saturday”.
Really, you had me at Lake Illawarra foreshore.
But lately … well, I’ve been feeling a little disenchanted with you and wondering if we’re still right for each other.
You’re breaking my heart a little more each time I hear about another young person breaking into cars – or worse, homes – while people are fast asleep, dreaming of free council kerbside pick-ups (a dream that feels cruelly out of reach).
You’re raising my blood pressure with your exorbitant rates, which don’t include weekly red-bin pick-ups.
You try explaining to a puppy that her poop must ferment in a 40-degree bin sauna for two full weeks. She doesn’t understand. Neither do I.
You’re causing heart palpitations with your high-speed acrobatic motorbike riders and painfully young e-bike riders doing death-defying stunts down suburban streets, putting others’ lives at risk.
But then …
Just when I think I’ve had enough, you go and remind me why I fell head over heels in the first place.
Your beaches are nothing short of dreamy and uncrowded. Perfect for a peaceful, mind-resetting stroll.
Your cafes. Oh, your cafes. There’s seemingly like 100 of them and I’m still waiting 40 minutes for my scrambled eggs, but the crushed dukkah, the fresh ocean breeze and 17 well-behaved cavoodles make the wait all worth it.
Your marina is world-class. We don’t even seem to remember now that we had a soft launch of the place that lasted three years.
And ah, Bass Point. Whether it’s swimming at Red Sands Beach, snorkelling at Bushrangers Bay or heading further around to surf at award-winning The Farm, every corner offers a new adventure.
Speaking of farms, to complete the picture, you throw in some Tassie-like rolling green hills behind Albion Park and a cow with big brown eyes that say, “love me”.
But I’m not completely shallow. It’s not just all about your looks. You’re clever, too. You’ve somehow convinced John Travolta – actual Hollywood John Travolta – to donate his Boeing 707 to HARS.
And you’re the place where “unfixable” planes come to be magically reborn. Honestly, I’m starting to suspect your mechanics may be wizards.
There’s heart here, too.
When our family had no interstate support, you gave us friends who became family. The kind of friends who’ll do the school pick-up when you’re stuck at work or offer a word of support – or a large glass of wine – after a tough week.
There are characters like “great Aussie bloke” and Shellharbour’s Neighbour of the Year Gary McLeish from Albion Park Rail, who mows three or four lawns down his street, takes out the neighbours’ bins, and even fixes up the yard of a newcomer who’s just moved in.
Your people are special, Shellharbour. Many either grew up here, married someone who grew up here or “just built for a year before planning to sell” … only to be here 12 years later. Once you are here, it’s difficult to leave.
There’s even warmth under your crusty Facebook surface – yes, even in the comment section of the Shellharbour Community Noticeboard (though it might take a few scrolls to find it).
It’s there you’ll find the three-year-old boy with his toy dump truck who watched the “builder man” at Shell Cove.
Said builder paused real work to scoop a load of dirt and fill the kid’s truck, like he was starring in the toddler version of Extreme Makeover: Sandpit Edition.
That single act of kindness probably just locked in a lifelong obsession with earthmoving equipment – and possibly his future employment.
So maybe … you’re not so bad, Shellharbour. Maybe we’re just going through a rough patch.
Maybe I just need to stop expecting perfection and appreciate the good – the breathtaking, the bizarre, and the downright brilliant.
Because despite the stinky bins and rogue motorbikes, you’ve still got it.
Love always,
Your slightly frazzled but still loyal resident, Kellie xx
