Memorable moments: The hip-sized oversight

On a perfect Cape Town day, Ally, some friends, and I made the beautiful trek along the Atlantic coast to Sandy Bay. Being a nudist beach, the experience requires a level of tactical preparation that a standard trip to Clifton does not.

I was meticulous. I was incredibly careful to apply layers of sunscreen to my "privates," knowing that parts of me usually shrouded in textiles were about to face the harsh African sun for the first time. I was also on high alert with the refreshments. Ally had brought a flask of hot coffee, and I sat with the posture of a statue; I’ve always been inclined to spill drinks in my lap, and I knew that a scalding coffee mishap in the nude would be a disaster from which I might never recover.

When I hit the water, I was equally cautious. There was a bit of a rip that day, so I kept my boogy boarding to the safer, shallower breaks. I felt like a master of risk management.

However, nature always finds the gap in your defenses.

Despite all my careful planning, the day ended in a two-front tactical failure. First, I discovered that the relentless friction of boogy boarding in the nude is a biological error; the wax and the board combined to give me a rather nasty, agonizing rash on my most intimate areas.

Second, I realized that in my obsessive quest to protect the "valuables" with sunscreen, I had completely neglected the surrounding territory. I had left a wide, unprotected ring around my naked hips. While my center was safely shielded, my hips were glowing a radioactive shade of crimson.

I walked back from the beach that day with a very specific, wide-legged gait—partly to soothe the rash and partly because my burnt hips couldn't bear the touch of my own clothes. It was a painful reminder that no matter how much you prepare for the "big" risks, it’s the small, overlooked details that usually get you in the end.

Memorable moments: The pearly white buttocks

In 2005, Ally and I flew from the gray skies of London to Croatia for a short break, desperate for some Mediterranean sun and the famous crystal-blue water. We checked into our hotel, dropped our bags, and immediately headed for the balcony to soak in the "gorgeous" view.

The view, however, was not quite what the brochure had promised.

As we looked out, an enormous, very white man walked past directly below us, speaking loudly in German. He was entirely, unapologetically nude. A moment later, several more naked people strolled by. It turned out our hotel didn't just have a sea view; it looked directly onto a nudist beach. We soon discovered that nudity is a massive part of Croatian culture—in some areas, there are more nudist beaches than "textile" ones.

True to the "When in Rome" spirit, we decided to embrace the local customs. We spent our days lapping up the sun; Ally went topless, and I went entirely nude. Ally even took a few cheeky photos of me standing on the shore, proudly showing off my pearly white buttocks against the Adriatic blue.

When we got back to London, I was eager to share the trip with my family. This was in the era before social media, so I sat down late one night to email a selection of photos to my mum in Cape Town.

The next day, I received a reply: "Lovely photos, Graeme, but that last one is rather porno!"

In my late-night exhaustion, I had completely forgotten the golden rule of travel photography: always curate your "mother-friendly" folder before hitting send. I had inadvertently sent my mother a high-resolution portrait of her son’s Croatian "full moon."

Memorable moments: The falling forward pace

I have always loved to walk. Whether it’s a rugged trek through the wilderness or a long, exhilarating urban hike through the city, walking is my primary mode of engagement with the world. However, I often hear a familiar refrain from my companions: "Graeme, you walk so fast! I can't keep up."

The reason for my unrelenting pace can be traced back to my childhood and a man who, at least to my young eyes, seemed ancient and quite a slow mover. That was, until he started walking.

My Grandpa lived about five kilometers from our house in a flat by the Rondebosch station. He would regularly make the trip on foot to Bertram Crescent to pick up my sister, Jo, and me. He’d then walk us through the park back to his place.

Gramps had a very specific, slightly ungainly gait. It was a "falling forward" style of movement—a rhythmic, high-speed stumble that he somehow converted into pure velocity. As soon as he set off, he would fly. Jo and I would practically have to jog at his heels just to stay in his orbit. This pace was even more pronounced during our regular excursions to Muizenberg Beach. We would fly along the sand in that same desperate, joyful pursuit, my small legs working double-time to match his momentum.

I loved the challenge of it. But more than that, I loved the reward.

The absolute highlight of these expeditions was the Appletiser. My mum would always pack one in my bag for the journey. In the hierarchy of childhood treats, Appletiser was the "champagne of apple juices." Its sophisticated fizz made it my favorite drink in the world, a luxury reserved only for the most special occasions.

Sitting there, catching my breath and sipping that fizzy gold after a high-speed trek with Gramps, is one of my most vivid memories.

I realize now that my "fast-walking" isn't just a physical habit; it’s a piece of Lambert that I still carry with me. Every time I outpace a fellow hiker or fly through a city street, I’m back on that beach or in that park, an Appletiser waiting in my bag, forever trying to keep up with the man who taught me that the best way to move through the world is to fall forward into it with everything you've got.

Clontarf Beach with Elna

I spent a lovely morning with Elna and a friend at Clontarf Beach. 

Fish Hoek sunrise, walk and swim

A glorious sunrise, walk and swim at Fish Hoek Beach  followed by a hot cup of tea and a ginger biscuit. Life is good!

Llandudno for Jo's birthday

My favourite beach for sunsets. I arrived with Russell just in time for sunset as I had tea with Joanna before. As usual, the sunset did not disappoint. Bridgette, Mandy and Wendy were there with their partners as well as Antony, Sam and Kim.

Sundowners at Clifton

We met up at Clifton for a swim and sundowners. So lovely to see Brandon, Shane, Kaylie and Daniel again.  

Stroll and photography in Cronulla

I've only ever passed through Cronulla before on the way back from coastal walks so it was really nice to explore it with my Photography Meetup group. It was a beautiful, sunny day but not too hot. All in all, we walked about 4 km. I regretted not bringing my costume for a dip.  We had lunch at the Cronulla RSL club which probably has the most epic view of any of the many RSL clubs in Australia.