A virtually empty camping ground in comparison to the busy road-stops which doesn’t surprise us considering the camping fee is virtually on a par with caravan parks. More, if this Park had included an entrance fee which many do. The only perk in this case a carefully protected bush environment – plenty of fencing.
We were just preparing to take a walk along the yellowy beach between two heads when George was hailed by a passing couple. As soon as they heard his accent they came over for a chat (Her sister was married to a Rhodesian) and invited us round for coffee that afternoon. Although they live locally (Merimbula) they were out for a couple of nights testing their off-road camper trailer in readiness for a winter trip to the Kimberey and Top End. We enjoyed a good natter well into evening with Bob and Loraine despite the odd drizzle of rain. Lots of dark wallabies and eastern grey kangaroos abound here, curiously watching your every move. Arriving back at Getaway we found lots of little “balls” dashing around. Hard to identify in the darkness and they all disappeared as soon as George was able to get to his torch. He thought they were bandicoots by their movement.
Curious bystanders in Mimosa National Park
Another two nights were spent at Mystery Bay, so called as 5 men disappeared in 1880 from the beach just below us. Primitive Camp run by the council actually provided better facilities in well kept bush at a quarter of the price of Mimosa Rock. A very fragmented Eurobodalla National Park is scattered along the length of this coast and we were able to walk many miles of beach after beach interspersed with interesting volcanic rocky formations in either direction of our camp, guarded by a forest of military minded spotted gums.
View over Mystery Bay from our campsite.
The council provided another primitive camp further north at Moruya Heads and we happily moved there next continuing our pattern of two nights! This campground was set at the mouth of an estuary in training… Due to the massive amount of sand movement in the vicinity of the mouth boating access in and out of the estuary is impaired. Therefore to enable man’s usage of this waterway, the position is fixed with breakwaters to scour the mouth and thereby “train” the ingress and egress of the tides. The stacked stone walls gave us an interesting view over the waterway but behind, we backed onto Moruya’s airport which at times deafened us with the tremendous engine roar of the daily scheduled flights arriving and departing. We partly solved that problem by unhitching and doing a round trip exploring the coastline as far as Batemans Bay and back down Princes Highway. We had to stop in Mogo as its historic ‘gold rush’ village appeal caught our eye just as it was captured by Tilba , a delightful National Trust classified village we stopped at for a walk about, on route to Mystery Bay. We have experienced wonderful blue days with cotton-wool clouds drifting across the skyline to contribute to dramatically coloured sunsets yet underlining these days is the crisp chill of winter especially in the shade. Therefore the prospect of returning inland and up the Great Dividing Range filled us with a degree of trepidation. Our plans to follow a gavel road through the Araluen Valley hesitated when we were confronted by the sign saying the road wasn’t suitable for caravans. Somewhat sceptical of these signs we asked a local whether we’d get through OK. He explained that apart from its narrowness and the risk of meeting oncoming traffic we should get through without difficulty. We decided to take the risk and sailed on down a well maintained surface with easy grades and only a couple of stretches were that narrow, that we held our breath and hoped we wouldn’t meet an oncoming car. Not a soul, we owned the road! Rounding another corner we saw reason for the perfect surface as we came up on the massive girth of a road-roller and had to crawl behind him until a place enabled us to pull past. A little further on, we came to the road-grader, only this time the driver leapt out and came to see if we were lost! On being told we were going to Araluen, his concern was obvious as he warned of tight bends with perilous drops and vertical cliffs that we’d find difficult to negotiate with the caravan. Scare tactics? Who knows, he certainly was the most knowledgeable of the road conditions. George decided to turn back. That took some doing and required moving the grader, further complicated by a sudden spurt of traffic at a critical time. Backtracking then double the journey before we would reach Araluen, we stopped in Nelligen, a sleepy little hamlet with green lawns alongside the Clyde River for our lunch entertained by sightseers as their cruise boat docked at what once was a major port from which gold and wool were shipped to the world. A painfully slow climb took us up Australia’s Great Dividing Range that straddles the entire length of the eastern side of this continent, using every turn-out provided to allow the next queue of upheld traffic to pass. On reaching the bleak high plains surrounding Braidwood we found ourselves dropping back down a treacherously steep descent leading to Araluen. The weight of Getaway pushing at Skiv gave rise to a strong smell of overstrained brakes that as we pulled into the overgrown and somewhat derelict campsite we looked at each other and wondered WHY we had gone to such length to reach such a place – all on the basis of an author’s tick of approval in our camp bible “Camps Australia 3”. Further to our dismay, the brake pedal no longer offered any resistance when pushed to the floor board and we assumed the worst in this remote place. Thankfully, once the engine and brake drums had cooled down hours later, all seemed back to normal which allowed us to sleep easy.
Returning up the mountain, this time in four wheel drive we moved across the high plains to Warri Reserve alongside the bridge across the Shoalhaven River. Promptly hunted out the best patch of sun furthest away from traffic sound of Kings Highway and settled in for the weekend. Two nights had plenty for us to observe as people came and went but the third night we had to ourselves. George explored a good length of the river on both sides and once the sun had burned through the early morning mists he’d take Lea to see the most scenic parts. We followed obvious wombat highways thanks to the pattern of a scat on stone habit and saw lots of burrows but no sightings. Hidden under the bridge a one armed hermit and his dog lived. We don’t know how he stood the noise of the steady traffic flow between the coast and Canberra unless he was deaf. We became quite attached to the place with its stringy bark gums and magpies strutting around. All kept George busy with his sketch book and water colours.
George’s water colour of Warri Bridge over the Shoalhaven River
Lea had visited Canberra in 1998 with St Hilda’s school girls and she was keen to see whether this perfectly planned capital city would impress George, as much as it had her. The “House on the Hill” beckoned us first… we didn’t mean to go in as we knew it would be abuzz with all the pollies congregating in the palace to hear the new Government’s first budget George was easily lured in by this majestic beacon. A good many hours were spent in Parliament House taking a tour, watching a massive media throng being “locked down” to peruse the budget report for the next five hours and generally absorbing the process of Australian democracy in action. We couldn’t help but feel enthralled by everything. From Capital Hill we walked down Federation Mall amongst sulphur crested cockatoos fossicking in fallen leaves and renting the air with their squawks. Adding to the cityscape was Lake Burley Griffin with Captain Cook’s Memorial Water Jet shooting water high into the air. We found Canberra captivating and happily spent our two weeks exploring the National Archives, Art Gallery and Museum, The Sound and Film Archives and the interactive science and technology centre for children - Questacon, proved just as intriguing for us oldies. A visit to the Deep Space Communications Centre at Tidbinbilla provided us with a fascinating insight into the advances made in the exploration of Mars and Saturn since 2004 with NASA. An experience made all the more relevant, given the recent landing of the space probe Phoenix on Mar’s north pole, when NASA began looking for signs of life in the ice sheets that lie underground.
As for The Australian War Memorial, it was outstanding and we found ourselves totally immersed in the military history of all the different conflicts Australian troops have been involved in, over the past hundred years. We benefited initially from a tour with a volunteer historian, as his knowledge and guidance helped orientate us within this vast complex. How apt the words “Here is their spirit, in the heart of the land they loved; and here we guard the record which they themselves made” as we pored over the tales of heroism in the Hall of Valour and moved through the galleries ending with the overwhelming reality of sound and light shows simulating attacks from a Lancaster bomber night raid over Berlin during WW11 to a helicopter assault in the recently opened Vietnam gallery which brought home something of the awful sensations of combat. A special exhibit on Lawrence of Arabia mentioned his interaction with Australia’s Light Horse which added a whole new dimension to that legendary story. Etched in our memories are the Ypres buglers sounding The Last Post at Menin Gate. To this, we have added the closing ceremony of The Australian War Memorial with young soldiers who stood to attention along the corridors containing the Rolls of Honour as The Last Post resounded outside the Hall of Memory with its tomb of the Unknown Soldier.
Boy soldiers? Or are we becoming ancient.
White cockatoos rose to the occasion, flapping ever upwards, seemingly in slow motion to land on the Dome added a particularly Australian touch. We returned at a later date to do the walk up Anzac Parade stopping at each Memorial to different Services and Campaigns set amidst gum trees. We finished at Gallipoli with Attaturk’s memorial garden. This respect to Attaturk, along with the Anzac Spirit inspires us to go to Turkey.
Spaciously laid out, elegant Canberra with its suburbs lying concealed from one another by rolling hills and open bush land is distantly encircled by a succession of mountain ranges, the Brindabellas being the most conspicuous. Throughout our two week stay we were treated to perfect blue skies and crisp days followed by cold nights that had us thankful to be indoors with Scott and Sue, have access to power for our caravan heater at bedtime and the lifesaving addition of Sue’s feather doona on our bed! Sharing household and kitchen duties with the family especially young chefs Nick and Bec generated the family spirit we so often miss. As working parents Scott and Sue are kept on their toes with their children’s sporting activities dominating weekends and evenings that their home and dog Gus became ours. George persuaded Lea to take advantage of an oven and bake biscuits for everyone. On arrival in Canberra we found all the folk we were keen to catch up with otherwise occupied that we closed our visit in a spurt of socialising. Justine and Daniel wanted us to meet the Conway family they had befriended while all travelling in Western Australia during 1999. Over afternoon tea we met the delightful family. And, the three small boys Justine had wanted carbon copied, are all teenage musicians and avid surfers now. Another afternoon we met up with Fred and Sanae and their two children in the Botanic Gardens where we barely had time to appreciate our surrounds for all the talking followed by more over dinner at their home. Their son Koh had been in Lea’s Preschool class at Jabiru and little Erica had toddled her way around on many occasions while Sanae showed the class how to make sushi and count in Japanese. Koh sports a black belt in martial arts.
Scott, Sue, Nick & Bec ; Gus the dog who joined us for breakfast every morning! ; The Conway Family ; Lea, Tessa & Geoff ; Fred, Sanae, Koh & Erica.
The march of years around forty by our reckoning, were the most significant when we caught up with Lea’s cousin Tessa and introduced to her husband, Geoff. In ceaseless conversation we swapped accounts of the intervening years, filled in family details from the past and the present and laughed over many recollections. After lunch we took a walk into the adjacent Nature Reserve where for a token payment, horses may be kept and kangaroos roam. Standing on the crest of the drought affected grasslands rising and falling around us, we were taken aback to learn this similar looking situation set one scene of the devastating Canberra Fires in January 2003. Such was the extreme intensity of heat, wind and smoke generated in this outwardly innocuous setting had Tessa scrambling for safety with their car containing photographs and documents while Geoff fought to protect their home. Many houses on either side of Tessa & Geoff’s property were inexplicably and randomly reduced to ashes. Climbing up the mountain we were able follow the passage of the fires by the coppicing of affected eucalypts and remnants of Mountain Ash and at the top, we were given a visual of Canberra surrounds and pick out the distinctive silver tripod-like flagpole of Parliament House. Our time with Tessa and Geoff was all too short that we dragged ourselves away.
The escalating price in crude oil causing havoc worldwide has naturally had an effect on our nomadic ways. We left Perth in October 2007 paying 148c per litre and rising… By Tasmania, diesel ranged between 170 and 172c. We left Canberra having paid 185c per litre and realised we needed to get our head round new ways to reduce our fuel costs and keep within our budget. Simply having static days are no longer enough. A delay in departure occurred when George noticed water running out the front corner of Getaway while refilling the water tank. On entering the ’van he found the floor awash and pulled up the seats thinking it was the water pump - all was well. Very confused he went to check the water inlets. Lea arrived to find him peering down the inlet with a torch and muttering… With concern building he didn’t explain too clearly either! Saying he could see “coals” was all the more nonsensical. It turned out to be a Cole’s supermarket label which led Lea inside to the pantry cupboard. A burst water pipe had flooded out the cupboard, poured down to the corner of the caravan and across the floor. The plastic joint and glue hadn’t coped well with freezing. Fortunately George was able to solve the problem with clamps which required both of us lying squeezed up together on the floor with heads and arms stuck awkwardly in the cupboard. Just as well the express post we were awaiting didn’t come at that moment in time!
We made our way slowly back to the SE coast of New South Wales through fog bound high plains each morning. On leaving the Federal Highway for Moss Vale we noticed a marked vigour in the vegetation and began to see buildings and landscapes reminiscent of England. Dropping downwards through The Dividing Range and the Morton National Park we could sense the scenic splendour of the Shoalhaven Valley before it even began to unfold. We crept down the windy, windy, windeee road trying to enjoy the stringy bark forests and ferny glades right up alongside us. Gaps provided us with long visas of fertile valleys and sandstone escarpments. After a bit George anxiously pulled over at a farmer’s cattle crossing spot to feel how hot the brakes were. Hot enough to take early lunch right there, while they cooled. The end to this steep descent came sooner than expected as a couple of kilometres on reached our destination, Bendeela Picnic Area. This was a large verdant green clearing on the edge of the Bendeela pondage with forest rising up the hillsides around us alive with the song of birds. Kookaburras, magpies, currawongs and a butcher bird came to observe us at close quarters as we lolled in the warm sun – this was heavenly. All the more so that evening! Busy at the computer we were startled by a loud grating sound and the caravan wobbling. WOMBAT! Taking a scratch, inspecting our chairs before passing our doorway for another scratch under Skiv, we couldn’t have been happier. Soon there were half a dozen grazing around us as mists emerged from the low lying grasslands. Throughout the night itchy wombats enjoyed using the axles beneath us and the loud rasping noise reverberated within. We didn’t mind the disturbance one bit and stayed another night for more encounters.
Evening at Bendeela
Close to forty years of marriage to a Naturalist makes life quite fascinating! With torch in hand this fellow dropped down onto his belly to observe the goings on under Getaway. On returning, said naturalist, reported momentarily seeing a long, thick greenish snake… until he realised it was actually the excrement of a well fed wombat.
Next morning, just as breakfast is about to be served my now coprologist recalls the night’s evacuation and feels the immediate urge to photograph and measure it. A spade is carefully used to extract this atypical deposit from its awkward resting place, closely examined and documented for posterity!
Long suffering wife is excitedly called to view the faeces, never mind that she has observed all the “song and dance” that goes on in the pursuit of science. And really, IS the mighty coil cut by a wombat… breakfast conversation? But that’s not all! She must admire ALL the turds left by wombats during the night’s visitation to the scratching post - “as an indication of its popularity”!?!?
35 centimetres whopper
Our last evening in wombat heaven was spoilt. George was patiently perched in the doorstep awaiting the eminent arrival of a large wombat steadily grazing a path in his direction, hoping to capture his best pic ever… Lea notices a school bus has drawn up on the road near us and the master is out looking for a suitable tent site. Being a Friday evening this large site has gathered a few more campers in widespread directions - there is no shortage of space. Moments later a group of girls pile out the bus and gyrate with pent up exuberance when one appears to see the wombat close to our caravan and promptly holds out her arm to take a “photo” with a small black and red camera. Promptly the other girls follow suit all running towards “our” wombat with sharp bangs and sparks being emitted. Tiny cap guns! Lea virtually falls over George on the doorstep in her haste to get to these thoughtless teenage girls. With the wombat hell bent for home burrow, the girls turn back to engage in a battle with the boys – tussles, shrieks, crackle- bang-pops ensued. Further salt added to our wounds… they set up their tents in such close proximity to us we were forced to move.
We escaped the high country completing the last steep descent down the Cambewarra mountain on the last day of autumn and made for Berry to find Rhodie Audrey and Scottish George we’d befriended beside the Murray River close to the Snowy Mountains.
