You gotta love a place that gives its public loo a view. Inside, where concentration is often required, it’s, well, just a loo. But outside, the vast sweep of the Pacific unfolds. This quirky, raffish icon says a lot about the place and the way it manages to combine awesome natural beauty with a down to earth heart. Here is the Sunshine’s Coast family centre, like a really great Nan’s Place where everyone goes to unwind and be looked after, that fronts onto one of the best and most family-friendly surf beaches in Australia.

By late morning the cafes along the Esplanade are already packed. Its shoulder to shoulder along the pavement and the evocative aromas of caffeine and hot chocolates mingle with the sea breeze and the hum of so many voices. Just over the road, the beach is already charged, with lazy waves carrying already water-logged kids on boogie boards who trace white frothy lines on the swells. Dads struggle with beach tents while wives and kids try not to make eye contact.

Light flicks off the chrome railings and off various shades of skin on show on the promenade. Finger-like Pandanus leaves – cradling fat, knobbly fruit -frame many of the views. The smell of blockout and chips, sea-air and heat, catch and lift, fall in and out of range.

I wander away from the Esplanade, past the Surf Club and the playground with a view (everything has a view here) with its requisite screeching kids, and into Parkyn Parade.

Happy Camper at the Wharf

The Wharf complex, opening out onto the river just down from the bar crossing, is all aged and salty weatherboard and tortured-looking wood decking. And its thronging with life.  Probably fair to say that some of the Dads look less enthused as they get dragged around the shops. A few cast wistful glances over to where the water tours – like whale-watching and scuba diving – scream escape. Then, the family tide picks up again and they move on begrudgingly.

Walking back to the Esplanade, I pass the recovery tank at the back of Underwater World, where two sleepy turtles float about: sea life needs holidays too. Sniffing the appetising aroma from the Hog’s Breath Cafe, I wander in and have a break looking over the water.

Back to the beach, where the coiling waves are consuming surging bodies and throwing pieces of sunlight about. The surf is holding up with an off-shore breeze and swimmers cluster between the flags like iron filings on a magnet.

The late Steve Irwin sits with his two kids gazing out to sea, in statue form, on the road from the beach to the Maroochy River. In a few minutes of leaving Mooloolaba I reach the focussed hubbub of Cotton Tree cafes and then the widening ribbon of the Maroochy River begins to fill the space with its expansive air. The gentle lapping of the water is cut by motors on the water. The breeze whisks through the lurching gums along the shore, flapping the loose bark on their trunks, while a gaggle of tourists readies to embark on a houseboat.

About where I cooled off

It’s mid-afternoon. Hot. I hadn’t brought my boardies and hadn’t planned on a swim. Mistake. The river’s cool body beckons. So, I hastily park the car and, in my good shorts, cross the road and walk out into the water and, at around waist deep, flop in. It’s wet, soothing fingers curl around my formerly sweaty skin and the heart of the Sunshine Coast beats gently around me.

If my body could speak, it just said “Aaaahh…”