The approach from Strahan leads you through button-grass plains and stands of myrtle beech before the coast opens wide. As you step onto the beach, irregular columns of dark dolerite frame the sand—natural sculptures carved by millennia of Antarctic swells. The namesake arch stands to the north, a window of stone looking out toward the horizon where fishing boats appear as distant specks.
“Nowhere else on Tasmania's west coast will you find such accessible dolerite formations framing a swimmable beach.”
Credit: Unsplashthe sun is setting over the ocean and a beach
Your children will lose themselves among the rock platforms, searching tide pools for periwinkles and crabs while you settle onto driftwood smoothed to silver. The water is bracingly cold year-round, better for wading than extended swimming, but the shallows warm slightly on summer afternoons. Oystercatchers patrol the wrack line, their orange beaks flashing as they probe for beach hoppers.
Bring a windbreaker—the westerlies arrive without warning, bending the coastal shrubs inland. Pack a thermos of tea and something substantial to eat; the nearest shops are back in Strahan. When the light drops late in the day, the sandstone glows amber against charcoal skies, and you'll have the entire amphitheater of stone and surf to yourselves, save for the gulls riding the updrafts above the arches.
