Barrington Tops - and a Good Scottish Haar

So off we went to Barrington Tops. On the map it seemed just a hop, skip and a jump but, as with all such things in Australia, distances are deceptive and it was over 60ks before we got in the general vicinity. On arrival we found real Scottish weather, and Scottish Highlands weather at that – the mist was down, visibility was poor and the rain started to break the drought all over again. On the plus side we had decided to leave the tent in situ in Gloucester for another night so didn’t need to look for a campsite.

I’m sure that when the sun shines and the skies are blue there are few places on earth like the Barrington Tops – however today was not one of those days! Never-the–less, despite the weather, the day provided some interesting moments. We decided to do a big loop through the forest – about 200 ks. However, as those of you who know Sandra and I, we hate to return the same way as we went, so we looked for alternatives. We noticed on the map an area known as the Kangaroo Range and through it there appeared to be a track – it was one of those small dotted lines which indicate some sort of right of way – so we thought we would give it a try.

Of course the important thing that we should have factored in was the weather – in particular the pouring rain – dotted lines on maps can often appear slightly different in reality, as do rivers! As we had spent most of the day on forest roads the Kangaroo Track (as we call it) initially provided no problems. However, back home, Sandra and I have a method of classifying roads by the amount of grass growing in the centre – the more grass, the more minor the road.

The grass on the Kangaroo Track was abundant as were the precipitous drops on both sides of the track. The mist was thick, visibility very poor and our foglights were on – although there was no one there to see them. I knew things were going wrong when I realised that my progress down the hill was outwith my control. The road surface (if it indeed was a road) was a bit muddy, to my left was a drop down to the river and to the right was a ditch. The problem was the vehicle was not responding properly and instead of going down the track forwards – we had spun round and were having a shot at a sideways descent – not good!

Managing to stop before disaster struck, I nipped out to lock the front hubs and engaged four-wheel drive – where we should have been in the first place.

Now, fully equipped for the worst, we set off again only to be thwarted by the next swollen river – we couldn’t give it a try as the road had be closed due to flooding and we had to take a fairly long detour. However our time came about 20ks later when we came to another swollen river – no detour this time and it was over 100ks to go back – so off we went – nae problem!

And that was that. Back to the tent to find that it had survived and that is where I am now sitting blogging and drinking wine. I have no idea where we will be tomorrow – we had planned another day at Barrington Tops – but I think not as the weather forecast for that area is even worse than today.

A Lack of Personal Hygiene

A funny smell has started to pervade our camp and it has been getting worse over the last few days. After some investigation we have found the source – US! It is over a week since we had a proper shower, two weeks since any washing was done and I’m afraid the bedsheets and pillowcases have not seen water since Sandra churned them out of the sewing machine in Sydney some weeks ago. In short, our personal hygiene is less than perfect. I think the clincher came this morning when I noticed a swarm of flies hovering over the washing bag and showing a particular interest in my dirty underpants! It was time to do something so here we are at a commercial campsite which has the luxury of showers and a laundry.

I am also able to tackle our car electrical problem (I can’t charge the computer etc as some of the electrics are faulty) by sitting doing this blog in the laundry pretending to be doing the ironing but actually pinching the electricity to charge computer, cameras, lights etc.

When taking the tent down this morning I thought that I had exonerated our personal hygiene as the cause of the smell as I found it to be liberally covered in white and brown bird droppings. Yet another learning experience – don’t park your tent underneath a Kookaburra’s perch, it’s not nice.
We are currently in a small town called Gloucester and tomorrow we hope to finally reach Barrington Tops – a place which has taken on a mythical quality as we have set off there several times but as yet have never arrived. Two days there, than back to the coast to meet up with Steven, Ana and Lex - then finally on our way. We have been in Australia now for two months and progress has slowed down and we are still only 3 hours north of Sydney.

Finally, a photographic coup. The forest we have been living in for almost a week is reputed to be the home of over 50 different mammals – and we hadn’t seen any apart from a glimpse of a kangaroo like object in the headlights a few nights ago. But then – the David Attenburgh moment – when this delightful creature posed for me. But what is it? A prize for the first correct answer.

PS I’ve just read this out to Sandra and she wishes it to be known that HER personal hygiene is in no way responsible for any unpleasant odours and that my underpants are solely to blame. This is based on the fact that she has now completed the washing and, on hanging it out to dry, she has only found one pair of underpants – personally I think she has probably lost all the others in the wash!!

PPS Of the two hairy creatures photogaphed above only one is under threat of a haircut and beard shave - and it hasn't got four legs!

Life in the Forest

Well perhaps the illnesses were not as terminal as at first thought! As we were eventually able to venture further than the nearest loo we finally left Pearl Beach and once more ventured North to the elusive Barrington Tops – our original destination of several weeks ago. Needless to say, three days after leaving Pearl Beach, we have still not reached Barrington Tops having been seduced by the charms, and empty (and very attractively free) camp sites, of the Chichester Forest. After 28 ks of forest track and river crossings we arrived at Telegherry, a secluded grassy glade with not a soul in sight and decided to call this home for a few days. Whilst not exactly “back to nature” it may well be the nearest we get!!

Living in the middle of a forest, without maps, is a challenge and we have had a number of interesting trips – mainly of a circular nature. This morning, trying to find the road to Monkerai to look at the apparently famous bridge, we could have sworn we were on the road by which we entered the forest yesterday. However we were stopped by a forest worker who informed us that the road had been closed for several days – we were on the wrong track - we were lost again! A 30 k detour saw us on our way again – maps are so important in some parts of Australia.

Living on the road with Sandra is not without interest! She is forever organising, then re-organising, the vehicle and all our goods and chattels. Her organising inevitably involves buying more containers in which to re-pack all the veggies, maps, first aid equipment, books, picnic stuff , craft stuff etc. etc. If only we had some way of organising all the organising!

For those of you that don’t know, Sandra has this idea of travelling round Australia producing “craft goods” which she intends selling at markets on our route. I’m sure that 50 % of our weight is taken up with her wire, cards, pens, beads etc. Unfortunately Sandra is like a number of “crafters” that I know (including you Liz!) she probably gets more pleasure out of buying or collecting all the raw materials then organising them, than she does out of making and selling the finished products. Her stock of merchandisable goods is pitifully low – but her stock of raw materials is well organised and growing.

Our vehicle has been performing magnificently although appeared to develop a terrible squeak which I was convinced was the wheel bearings – all of them! It was particularly bad on stretches of the forest road and I was so concerned that on several occasions I had to stop the car to check. Strangely enough, even when stopped, the squeaking continued – we haven’t yet identified the bird in question!

This is a very attractive part of Australia and, when outwith the confines of the forest, is very pastoral in nature. The English heritage is particularly evidenced in the place names and today we have visited Gloucester and Stroud – whilst the towns themselves were nothing like their English counterparts, much of the country-side had the feel of the Cotswolds albeit on a larger scale. We crossed over the River Avon and were not surprised to find the associated town was Stratford!

One final point – and a point of contention at that – is about my appearance. I first grew a beard in 1983, more out of laziness than any particular desire to be hirsute. Despite an early foray into a “long” beard, which was quickly dispensed with when I realised that this gave unfair, and painful, advantage to opposition props, I have always kept my beard reasonably well trimmed – until now! I have decided not to shave and consequently, after three months growth, I am looking suitably hairy. Unfortunately the sun has bleached my beard and I now have the appearance of a dishevelled Santa Claus – however this should serve me well if I am looking for seasonal employment next Christmas!

PS Having electrical problems - may not be able to charge laptop, therefore blogs may be fewer for the next week or so.

At Death's Door

Well I knew it was bound to happen sometime on our trip and so I suppose sooner rather than later is better – how to spell the word diarrhoea!

We moved south to meet up with Johann and Ian at a place called Pearl Beach for a party and for Johann to reunite us with all the things we had left in Sydney – bras, knickers, hats etc. Pearl Beach is a posh little holiday-home place with nothing so infra dig as a campsite, so we set up house on Patonga Beach a few miles away. Unfortunately it was fully booked for the weekend so we could only stay for the Thursday night then had to move on. Luckily people we knew from Sydney owned one of the holiday houses near to where the party was to take place and we were given camping rights for the duration.

Pearl Beach reminds me of some of the Cornwall villages Sandra and I visited in November – whilst physically very different, the bottom line was money – you had to have it to buy into the place. Consequently, of the 500 or so houses built into the heavily wooded landscape, only about one third of them were permanently occupied.

Unfortunately we never got to the party. I had been feeling unwell for a couple of days with a cough I couldn’t get rid of, a feeling of utter exhaustion and a queasy stomach resulting in not eating any food for a few days. As the cough got down into my lungs I knew it was a chest infection – and, judging by the colourful gunge I was dredging up, it was serious. Probably pneumonia and possibly terminal! Sandra in the meantime also had a queasy stomach and was confined to trips no more than two minutes from the nearest loo. It was in this sorry state we had to refuse to take up our invitation to the party.
We have decided to stay here for a few days, with easy access to the loo, until we are both 100% fit. It’s a hard life being a grey nomad!














Top photo - Patonga Beach
Next - Pub at Patonga Beach
Next - Holiday Home where we camped in the garden
Next - Pearl Beach

Toronto and The Wine Country

On Friday we arrived in Toronto to stay for a couple of days with Alan and Cath Cowan. Cath is a Douglas and has an extraordinary interest in, and a great deal of information about, the Douglas family tree. I have never been exactly sure what our relationship actually was so, after a bit of investigation, we worked out that we were second cousins - my grandfather and her grandfather being brothers.

Despite her Douglas interest, Cath had never been to Scotland and it appears that I am the only Douglas who she had actually met although a number of the “older generation” had kept in touch by letter. Consequently Sandra and I were treated as royalty, the fatted calf had been duly slaughtered and a full programme laid on for us – there was no way this visit was only going to last two days!

The house, what I would consider “old Australian” in that it has an enormous veranda where we tended to take afternoon tea and occasionally dinner, overlooks Lake Macquarie, a large body of salt water almost totally surrounded by land with only a narrow outlet to the sea. The place is a haven for the sailing fraternity.

Saturday morning we were up bright and breezy ready for a guided tour of “Douglas Country” – from the Presbyterian Church in Newcastle where the Douglases got married, to the various houses in which they lived - Cath spoke of the people and places as if it were just yesterday.

Sunday was kilt day! I had mentioned to Cath I had brought my kilt and was immediately instructed to put it on as various family members were coming to meet me and would love to see me in the Douglas tartan – I of course duly obliged and there are hundreds of photographs recording the event.

Monday was Hunter Valley day. For those of you that don’t know, the Hunter Valley is one of the main wine growing areas in Australia so Sandra and I had more than a passing interest! Our guides for the day were Geoff and Geraldine – like myself Geoff is a distant relative to Cath’s but before long we discovered yet another of these “oh what a small world it is” coincidences. A few weeks earlier Sandra and I travelled south to Wollongong to visit Johann’s ex-husband Ian Raeburn who, it turns out, is a friend of Geoff and Geraldine – small world. Ian is remembered as the inventor of the Raeburn Index for wine – if it is over 14.5 ABV it must be good!

As there are about 150 wineries in the area we weren’t able to get round them all – but we did our best!

Starting off at the Kelman Vineyard (in which Geoff and Geraldine had recently sold part owner-hip) we moved over the road to Saddlers Creek Wines, then on to one of my all-time favourites – McGuigans. McGuigans also make their own cheeses so we were able to double up on the sampling! For a change of emphasis we had lunch at a brewery were we able to sample six different ales to help wash down the meat pies. Last (I think!) was the small, but perfect, Scarborough Wine Co whose presentation was superb – not least because we were presented with NINE different wines to sample including several Semillons and Chardonnays then, keeping, in my opinion the best until last, a Pinot Noir and an excellent Shiraz.

Tuesday was an extended lunch on the veranda where I was introduced to a number of friends of Cath and Alan’s most of whom had some connection with the Australian branch of the Douglas family over the years including another relative who was related to my grandfather’s wife’s family. We didn’t really get down to what our exact relationship was.

Sandra’s idea of travelling around Australia making money selling her craft work is coming to naught – she will never make a fortune as she is giving away far more than she sells!

Wednesday (today) is a free day and we will be getting ourselves organised for our departure tomorrow. We are actually going to be headed south as we have a party to go to this weekend on the coast south of Toronto then north again next week to Barrington Tops after which we hope to meet up with Steven, Ana and Lex for a few days. We will then cut connections with our New South Wales friends and relatives and set off towards Queensland.

How not to drive on sand

Well, that’s it, we are finally on our way. Although the first stint is likely to pretty short – only 3 or 4 days - as we are expected in Toronto (Australia, not Canada) to see long lost Douglas relatives.

For our first trip we decided to go to Barrington Tops, a national park several hours drive north of Sydney. Despite our two forays on our own we must of course still be considered amateurs at this sort of thing – a fact which will become blindingly obvious, not to mention highly embarrassing, as events unfold.

Our first misadventure came when we stopped to take on provisions at a supermarket on the way. Our vehicle, now fully laden with tents, beds, chairs, bedding etc – most of it on the roof, was now about one metre higher than a “normal” car. Unfortunately most supermarket car parks in Australia seem to have a height restriction, usually in the form of a metal bar hanging above the entrance indicating the maximum height for vehicles. Unfortunately I now know NOT to attempt entry to any car parks with the maximum height of 2.2 metres !!!! I blame the fact it was metric whereas I still operate in feet and inches.

A similar problem faced us with getting to Barrington Tops – it was more kilometres away than we had daylight – I’m sure our trip would have been accomplished if we had worked in good, old-fashioned miles. Realising we probably wouldn’t have made it in time, and with the advantage of having flexibility totally on our side, we changed plan and ended up on the shores of Myall Lakes. We found an idyllic spot to camp at the waters edge and we sat there with Sandra repeating, almost mantra-like, “It’s beautiful, just beautiful” as we drank our wine and watched the sun going down. There was little to indicate the disasters that were to strike the following day.

A fabulous sunrise, bacon rolls for breakfast, then off exploring. A few miles (kilometres!) away a sign said Lighthouse Beach and off we went. A further sign indicated a car park for two wheel drive vehicles, we of course treated this with disdain – we had a four wheel drive – and headed on down the track, where of course disaster struck.

“I have many things to learn about 4WD driving on sand” was the thought that ran through my head as I realised that the vehicle was no longer going forward but going down! We were stuck – up to the axles – in sand. However, I was prepared (or so I thought) as I had bought a spade and started to dig us out. Sandra too was busy and had found (of all things) a pillow which she said if I put it under a wheel it would give traction. All came to naught and we were, to some extent, rescued by a local whose path off the beach we were blocking and who gave us some critical (in the two senses of the word) advice. One – the front wheel hubs have to be locked and, two – it helps to have four wheel drive engaged!!!

We then found ourselves on the beach when things got worse – critical even. I still didn’t feel we had enough traction and decided to get off the soft sand and move down closer to the sea where the sand seemed a bit firmer. When we got stuck Sandra got out – I’m not sure why, possibly to watch or perhaps to push – and I had the amazing sight of her sinking. As I revved the engine the wheels sank deeper and suddenly I was looking up at her instead of down! We tried the digging out trick to no avail and when the pillow was put under a wheel (any wheel) it merely flew out backwards at a rate of knots.

Normally I wouldn’t have been too worried, however the beach was deserted and, somehow inevitably, the tide, only a few yards (or metres) away, was coming in. At this point Sandra announced that her blood pressure was rising dramatically, although as events subsequently proved, it wasn’t BP but sunburn as she had no sunblock on. My frantic digging was proving ineffective and, with the incoming tide, I thought our Australia adventure was about to reach a premature and watery end.

Enter Trevor and Fiona – our saviours.

My third big mistake with sand driving was that I had not reduced the tyre pressure sufficiently. I think Trevor would have left us to the waves but Fiona persuaded him to help and, whilst she and her mum spoke to Sandra about Edinburgh, Trevor got my tyre pressure down to 15 psi – and we were away!

Away that is back to the 2 WD car park – Sandra couldn’t get off that beach quick enough – although we did walk down and have a really go day on the beach. Unfortunately neither Sandra or I had the presence of mind to get the camera out to record us stuck in the sand so the best we can do is to show some of the tracks taken several hours later.

All for now – I am in a McDonalds near Newcastle.

We're Off

Well that's the vehicle packed and we are on our way - heading North.

Goodbye Sydney - we should see you again in December!

Blogs probably going to be fewer, shorter and with less photographs as access to the Internet is likely to be restricted.

J & S

Johann's Birthday Party

Well time in Sydney is coming to an end. We now have the vehicle with all the equipment and have had two "dummy runs" to check everything is OK. The Nissan went for a full service and check up and emerged with flying colours. We are ready to go. However, before hitting the road, there was one more important social engagement - Johann's sixtieth birthday party.

Approximately 60 (appropriately enough) of Sydney's finest were invited to the party which was to be fancy dress with the theme being - "India". Johann then pulled a fast one! Her school was sending a large number of pupils on an Outward Bound course and she was one of the leaders and therefore disappeared into the bush for the week leading up to the party - not before leaving copious instructions of what she expected Sandra and I to do to prepare. Food - drink - decorations etc - noses to the grindstone for days!

When one packs for a trip to Australia putting in Indian outfits is not a high priority - however, as luck would have it, I did pack an shirt I bought in India last year - so I knew I was able to look the part. Unfortunately, when looking at the photos, my appearance is not of the intended Maharajah of Jaipur but more like a particularly scruffy and dishevelled street sweeper from a very low Untouchable Caste. (Seen next to my son Steven who was not in fancy dress)

This is of course in severe contrast to Johann, Sandra's sister who, even though pictured performing the menial task of preparing a tomato salad - still was able to look like an Indian Princess (well I've got to say that haven't I!)

Sandra of course was at the party and, as can be seen from the next photo, she was was not above making advances to an unclean Mumbai street sweeper - the disguise was very convincing.

The party was a great success and having put in so much time and effort preparing for the event it was no surprise that Sandra and I collapsed in total exhaustion before proceedings came to an end. Unfortunately the intrusive paparazzi took photos which could have other interpretations!

Sweet dreams!

Attack of the Killer Possum

There are certain animals which, justifiably or otherwise, are thought of as being likable, friendly even cuddly creatures – creatures deemed worthy of being made into soft toys for children. Bears of various sorts come to mind including Koalas and Pandas, not to mention rabbits and penguins. Until last night I would have put Possums squarely into the “likable and cuddly” category – however, as I nurse my wounds, I have had to reassess Possums and put them into the “dangerous, not to be messed with, category”

We are on another short camping trip a few hours south of Sydney at a place called Green Patch in Booderee National Park. Arriving yesterday afternoon we did not have time to do much more than pitch the tent and have a meal before heading off to bed. Our previous trip to Dunn’s Swamp taught us several invaluable lessons one of which was never to leave any scraps of food out side the tent at night, even if sealed in a poly bag. We had left a couple of bags on the floor outside the tent and, during the night, we had a visit from “something” which ripped the bags to shreds to find food.

So last night we left our poly bag hanging from a tent pole to thwart ground level scavengers. Sandra had retired for the night and I was finishing off a cold beer (a fridge is an essential part of comfortable camping!) when I though I heard a noise outside. Unzipping the mozzie net I went out under the awning – nothing appeared to be amiss and the bag was hanging where we left it, apparently untouched. Suddenly, above my head, I noticed a moving bulge in the awning – “something” was making towards the bag. I suppose I should have just left it, or at least found out what it was, but my instinctive action was to give the bulge a good poke with my fist – bad move! A flying ball of fur with a thick bushy tail, about the size of a big cat or small dog, flew through the air with its legs flailing. Unfortunately, at the end of the flailing legs, there appeared to be a number of rather sharp claws which made a bit of a mess of my hand. Typing is therefore slightly painful tonight – and another lesson has been learnt.

Is this a foretaste of things to come? Sandra’s comment was “Well, at least it was only a possum. Up in Northern Territory it would probably have been a crocodile!”

Green Patch is absolutely idyllic – blue sea, blue sky and a white, white sandy beach backed by forest - I suppose this is what people back home imagine Australia to be. We wandered along the beach for about a mile with virtually no-one else in sight and then erected our light-weight beach shelter for shade and spent the day reading, sunbathing and snorkeling. A small irony, given the weather back home, was the place we parked ourselves for the day had a narrow reef running out to sea, which had the name “Scottish Rocks” – there must be a story there somewhere.

The place where we are camped almost has the feel of a pet shop with hundreds of parrot-like birds all over the place. One even landed on our table when I was preparing dinner. Kangaroos abound and of course there is the odd possum or two. Sandra has taken to bird watching and has bought the Field Guide to Australian Birds and ticks off each one she identifies. The are probably about 1200 native birds in Australia and she has ticked off ten – only 1190 to go!

We returned to Sydney by a different route (including Cambewarre Mountain Lookout and Fitzroy Falls) and had a pleasant but uneventful journey – uneventful that is until we arrived in the city. Driving around Sydney gives me palpitations and I have primarily survived heart attacks and strokes by using a SatNav. Unfortunately it has a rather whiney Australian female voice which grates somewhat. (I discovered it was possible to change it to a rather sexy French female voice which, whilst not grating, did have the obvious drawback that being guided around Sydney in French was less than useful for the linguistically challenged) So Sandra decided that we now knew Sydney well enough to give “Matilda” – as we have christened her – a miss. Yet another bad, and expensive, move. Sydney has many toll roads including tunnels and bridges. To the uninitiated the tunnels are like navigating spaghetti junction - underground, in fog, at night with your eyes closed!

Most people are aware that it is possible to drive across Sydney Harbour on the Sydney Harbour Bridge - however, it is also possible to go under the harbour by tunnel – and that is where we found ourselves – totally lost, going the wrong way, paying for the privilege and, when we got to the other side, not recognising a single place or street name. "Matilda" was given a hasty reprieve and soon had us on the right road i.e. back through the harbour tunnel at further expense. Arriving home we were in need of wine therapy.