Mackay

The trip up to Mackay was fairly uneventful with no new disasters to report – although one potential disaster was averted. Regular blog readers may recall us being bogged down to the axles on a beach with me frantically digging and Sandra doing her King Canute act trying to turn back the advancing tide. On our way to Mackay we detoured to stretch our legs and headed for a convenient beach. The dirt road was rough and twisty and, as we emerged from the final bend straight onto to the beach, with horrible memories of the last escapade Sandra screamed for me to stop and reverse before she got that sinking feeling once again. Manoeuvre successful, the only untoward experience was Sandra, bounding from rock to rock, lost her footing and fell onto the rocks soaking herself and ripping her trousers. Luckily, unlike the last time when she fell down a gully, I had the camera and was able to record the event.

Arriving, via the Bottleshop, at Martin and Eleanor’s house we spent a pleasant evening catching up with the last 40 years trying to remember events, people and places. Eleanor, who has lived in Australia for many years, has not lost her Inverness accent and, although she does not think she has a strong accent, the evening was punctuated with “Rubber Bumpers an’ Woolly Jumpers” moments (an in-joke that only Invernessians will appreciate!)

Our hosts were a mine of local information and the following day we set out to visit Fitch Hatton Gorge and Eungella National Park. The former’s main attraction is a steep waterfall surrounded by rocky ledges and a deep pool at the bottom. There were many signs about the dangers of the area and jumping from the rocks into the water was strictly prohibited. On any other day it would have been idyllic however we arrived on a public holiday – the car park, such as it is, was overflowing and, when we got to the gorge it was heaving with youngsters blatantly ignoring all warning notices and throwing themselves off every rock ledge and tree they could find. It looked dangerous but good fun and I was rather taken by the message on one young boy’s t-shirt as he threw himself off the highest ledge – “It’s only good fun until someone gets hurt – then it’s hilarious”. Not particularly tempted to commit suicide I sat down with the camera to capture some “hilarious” moments. Fortunately that sort of hilarity was in short supply although there were several near misses.

The national park was rather more staid in comparison although our old friend the Duck-billed Platypus was very much in evidence and Sandra managed to get some pretty good photos. Evidence of recent cyclone activity was all around with broken and stripped trees and we saw a house that had been demolished by a fallen tree.

Saying good bye to Martin and Eleanor we set off for Airlie Beach to spend a few days and take a trip out to the barrier reef. Unfortunately the rain, which has constantly dogged us on this trip, arrived in bucket loads. As there are no national park camping sites in the vicinity we toured the local commercial sites finding each one muddier and more forlorn in the downpour than the last. We finally settled on the BIG4 Adventure Whitsunday Resort – not our normal sort of camping place but it offered the least muddy ground and a good swimming pool – what the hell we deserve a treat now and again.

Airlie Beach was a big disappointment – although the weather may have played a part in this assessment. However the beach itself was not much to write home about and the main shopping street wouldn’t have looked out of place in Majorca or even, God forbid, Blackpool. So today we have gone for a drive and I am writing this in one of the most beautiful and tranquil spots we have found so far called Dingo Beach. We have the place totally to ourselves although a couple of parrots have been distracting me. Sandra is sitting beside me crafting away making her sun hat embellishments trying to build up stock for her market stall in Darwin.

Tomorrow we are off to the Whitsunday Islands– unfortunately there are still “stingers” in the water (very nasty jellyfish some of which can, and do, kill in a particularly painful way) so we will have to wear all-encompassing lycra body suits when we go snorkelling. I suspect Sandra and I will look like multi-coloured Michelin Men!!

To The Limit - and Beyond

With our few days in Bundaberg coming to an end Sandra and I were planning the next leg of the trip from Bundaberg to Mackay. Deciding that it was too far to do comfortably in a day, we were studying the mountain of maps and brochures that we had picked up in the tourist office looking for somewhere about half way, probably in the Rockhampton area, where we could set up camp for the night.

Whilst in the midst of our deliberations the fickle finger of fate gave us another poke in the ribs as yet another coincidence hit us! I switched on my computer to check e-mails to find a new one had just arrived from my cousin Jean in Canada to tell us she had friends who had a cattle station in Australia, who had been following our blog, and who would be willing to put us up should we drift in their direction. Almost unbelievably their place was between Gladstone and Rockhampton – exactly the area we were studying on the map looking for somewhere to stay for the night. A quick e-mail and phone call and we were on our way to The Limit to meet John and Libby!

With accommodation settled we headed north for our first detour of the day by way of Agnes Waters and The Town of 1770 – the latter so called because Capt Cook (although then mere Lt Cook) popped in for the day in 1770. Some years ago we rented a house in the area for a week and we were interested to see if the place had changed. Needless to say there had been many developments with lots of new building, particularly in Agnes Waters, much of it holiday related with holiday homes and houses to let. Despite some of these developments both places are still attractive – particularly 1770 about which Sandra gave her ultimate accolade “If I had to live by the sea, this would do”

Then on to look for “The Limit” - with John’s instructions and the (mostly) faithful SatNav, finding Dart’s Creek Road was easy. We arrived in time to pitch the tent on the lawn then settled down to an evening of excessive drinking by the pool whilst watching the sun set over what was, even by Australian standards, a magnificent landscape.

John and Libby had met my cousin Jean and her husband Reg whilst they were stationed in Rangoon and had kept in touch ever since. John’s career had been in agriculture and in fact he had lived in Humpty Doo near Sandra’s sister Gill when he worked as Director of Agriculture for the Northern Territory. Now retired from the rat race he appears to be enjoying life running his own farm and rearing cattle. John and Libby were full of hospitality and at one point, when I offered to bring some beer up from the Nissan, the offer was turned down by their son Michael with the statement “Hell will freeze over the day there is no beer in this house” – Our kind of people!

The following day was ANZAC day and John dutifully raised the Australian flag to half mast. Whilst not exactly dawn, in fact the sun was shining and the heat was building up, Sandra still managed to miss it – she is not at her best first thing in the morning and it takes at least one cup of coffee to kick start her. After breakfast we packed up and performed one last duty at The Limit – stock inspection! John and Michael took us to see one of their herds and even to my

untutored eye they looked fine beasts.

One final word about The Limit – during the evening and after quite a few beers and wines, not to mention the port, John (or maybe Libby) revealed they are planning to go away for a month in November and were looking for “farm sitters”. Sandra, being so taken with the place and perhaps alcoholically influenced, offered our services and Libby, perhaps equally alcoholically influenced, accepted - watch this space should there be further developments!

Then onwards and ever northwards to Mackay to visit Martin Hannah.

Bundaberg - Rum and Hospitality

Despite our slightly disorganised arrival at 2 Inspiration Court we were welcomed with open arms by Lawrie and Colleen who plied us with food and copious amounts of alcohol. The following day involved a trip to the garage for a service and investigation of the grim sounding squealing noise coming from the front wheel of the Nissan. Theories ran from wheel bearings or brakes problems through to the most expensive sounding prognosis which came from Gill who confidently diagnosed the universal joint (whatever that is) was knackered. As it turned out there was a stone in the works – no problem.

A trip to the Bert Hinkler Museum was excellent – he was an early pioneer of flight who at one time held the world long distance solo flight record and was the first person to fly across the South Atlantic from Brazil to West Africa. His house in Southampton (England) was dismantled brick by brick and re-assembled in Bundaberg. The most interesting aspect of his life was rather glossed over as he seemed to combine having a live-in lover as well as a wife – he obviously had a lot of energy.

We then moved on to the Bundaberg Rum distillery to see how the rum was made and to sample a drop or two. Having been on many whisky distillery visits in Scotland it was interesting to see the similarities and differences between the two processes. However both end products are totally acceptable although I perhaps blotted my copybook after my third rum by confessing that I actually preferred whisky – the guide was quite polite about it but I could see he was not amused.

Sandra spent Friday buying more craft material and of course new containers to store and organise them. I think we will shortly have to consider a trailer to tow all Sandra’s excess

baggage!

The vehicle is now re-packed and tomorrow (Sat) morning, at the crack of dawn (nae chance!) we set off for Mackay, although we anticipate an overnight stop somewhere around the Rockhampton area.

Carnarvon Gorge, Cania Gorge then on to Bundaberg

So, after a week in Brisbane with Willie and Helen, we finally set sail once again heading for the famous Carnarvon Gorge. It didn’t look too long a trip on the map and Sandra was talking in terms of “popping over to” Carnarvon – however it was a long “pop” of around 750 kilometres and we didn’t make it in a day as hoped. Leaving Brisbane travelling on the Warrego Highway we passed towns of various shapes and sizes – Ipswich, Toowoomba, Dalby, Chinchilla (the melon capital of Australia) Miles (stopped for lunch) and on to Roma. Then turning north onto the Carnarvon Developmental Road at 4pm we finally reached a small town called Injune – still 150k short of our destination. Whilst we could have made it to Carnarvon by about 6pm it would have meant arriving in the dark and, with no campsite yet identified (there was no camping in the park itself) we decided to call it a day and explore the delights of Injune.

We checked into the local campsite then went to the pub. The Injune Hotel’s bar (Sandra is not yet ready for public bars so I took her to the lounge) was a delightful ensemble of wood, corrugated iron and formica with a nod to modernity in the form of a 50 inch flatscreen TV dominating the room and blasting the only customers (us) with loud music. We bought a carry out and went back to the tent and had a good night.

Carnarvon Gorge was interesting although not as awesome as expected but provided plenty of good walking trails. I did far too much walking about 14k including a number of river crossings jumping from stone to stone. At the end of one walk we came to the “Art Gallery” which featured a sandstone cliff covered with Aboriginal art. I would like to say I am turned on by Aboriginal art – but I’m not!

On the wildlife front, we spotted our first wild dingo on the way out of Carnarvon and it was good enough to pose for a photo. We also spotted a very strange kangaroo which seemed to have extra legs!!

The following day we started the trek back to the coast to Bundaberg to spend some time with Lawrie’s parents who we have met before (Lawrie is Sandra’s sister Gill’s partner) The first day of the trip was pretty uneventful unless one counts the “Gully Incident” Heading north Sandra spotted some interesting rock formations formed by erosion on our left and instructed me to turn and give her the camera. I did a U-turn and dropped her off then went to turn the vehicle. Arriving back at the drop off point I saw that Sandra had clambered down into the gully and was snapping away like mad. She seemed quite happy by herself so I left her to it i.e. I couldn’t be bothered climbing down then climbing up the other side to join her. Suddenly I caught a flash of red as she lost her footing and tumbled head-over-heels down the side of the gully and disappeared. When I arrived she was emerging from her red hole – battered, scraped, bruised, glasses awry – however the good news was the camera was undamaged!

Arriving at the Dawson Highway we headed east through a series of small towns – Bauhinia, Moura (lunch stop) Banana (honestly, I thought it was funny, but Sandra wouldn’t let me stop for a photo) then a fairly large town Biloela where we got provisions for the night. Our destination was yet another gorge – Cania Gorge. Although a National Park there was no camping so we booked into a commercial site which was excellent despite the rain seeking us out yet again. After a wee poke around the gorge we set off for Bundaberg to see Lawrie and Colleen passing through Rosslyn, Mount Perry (“I like this place” said Sandra after our lunch stop) Gin Gin then into Bundaberg.

Sandra had phoned ahead to get the address – 2 Inspiration Drive – but the satnav didn’t recognise this and the nearest we could get was Inspiration Court. Thinking that this would be near enough we set off for Inspiration Court which we found quite easily but couldn’t find Inspiration Drive. Parking outside 2 Inspiration Court, we phoned for directions and, whilst speaking to Lawrie, noticed Colleen coming out of the “wrong” house waving – Sandra had taken the address down wrongly.

Rain has featured large on our trip. Whilst we complain, the locals are delighted, as we seem to have broken the drought. We have had to invest in a tarp for the roof to stop things getting wet – but Sandra still keeps acquiring things and, when I complain, she says “Oh just put it on the roof”. I think we are starting to get a bit top heavy (see photo)

Plan now is to spend a few days here then head up the coast to Mackay to visit Martin Hannah, a very old friend who I have not seen for over 40 years – unless one counts the 1976 incident when he was a policeman and I was innocent! Thankfully he seems to have forgotten it ever happened.

The Taits,Yet another Coincidence and it's a Girl

We arrived in Ormiston (yes, there are East Lothian links) on the outskirts of Brisbane whilst we carried out some domestics, mainly washing, and had the vehicle electrics tweaked. We intended to stay a maximum of three days, however a word of warning to any of you who might be tempted to visit Willie and Helen, their hospitality is such that it is very difficult to get away and here we are, almost one week later, still in Ormiston. As I type I have just been served another cold beer by Jenny, their older daughter – why would we want to leave to live in a tent?! However we resume our journey tomorrow.

Brisbane is a city with a population of over 2 million and the only ones we knew were Willie and Helen. However, as I needed to have the car electrics looked at by an auto electrician, my cousin Cath in Toronto recommended I contact her nephew Paul who has an auto-electrical business in Brisbane. I’m not quite sure what my exact relationship is with Paul (possibly 2nd cousin once removed) but it was great to finally find a relative who had some practical skills! I took the car round to Paul and he did a really great job and the car is now like a mobile power station and I should have no problem charging the computer, cameras, lights etc.

I mentioned in my last post that the coincidences were continuing at an uncanny rate. Regular readers of this blog will recall how our guides round the Hunter Valley vineyards were friends of Sandra’s sister’s ex-husband; how our host in a small town in New South Wales knew my Canadian cousin as they went to the same boarding school in Scotland over 40 years ago; how in the middle tens of thousand spectators at the Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras in Sydney I bumped into an ex-colleague from Edinburgh; how one of my Canadian cousin’s daughters happened to be in Sydney at the same time as us and we met and went for a meal and night out. The next coincidence gradually emerged as I realised that Willie and Helen knew my cousin Paul, his wife Pam and children.

It turned out that Helen, who is a teacher at a private school in Brisbane, had taught Paul’s son David (and indeed David’s sister) and was his housemistress. What’s more, the Tait’s son Cameron plays in the same rugby team as David and the team is managed by Paul. Willie and Paul, whilst not actually friends, knew each other. On Friday night we all met up and went to watch the boys playing rugby – then back to Willie and Helen’s for a meal and a drink. As I keep saying – “It’s a small world!”

With the domestics completed and the car fixed we could have left but stayed on for a few more days to do a bit of touristy stuff. We took the ferry to Coochiemudlo Island (known locally as Coochie) and did a circumnavigation. There is an interesting golf course on the island originally built as a 6-hole course by a local farmer, Douglas Morton. Now expanded to 9 holes I was very tempted to have a round but time was against me.

The following day we got the train into the city centre and found ourselves in the botanical gardens. It’s funny, it doesn’t matter where in the world we go, Sandra always manages to find the botanics! There was also a garden show on but even Sandra realised that, in our current circumstances, half a dozen new plants was not a good idea.

Crossing the river we went to the South Bank – a trendy leisure area right in the centre of Brisbane with shops, restaurants, gardens and many water features – a very pleasant place to wander. Unfortunately (or fortunately!?) we were too early for the weekly market – mainly arty, crafty stuff, which was just being set up. However this was not to big a loss as we had been before and it was where Sandra had bought her first Orgasmatron. The Museum next – very modern with artefacts well presented - then back on the train for the hour-long journey back to Ormiston.

On arrival at Ormiston Station Sandra received a phone call from Steven with the news she had been hoping for. Sandra had two boys, as did her sister Gill – Johann was slightly less prolific with one boy –Jon and Lisa also had two boys. Whilst loving each and every one of the boys (most of the time) Sandra has felt deprived as she has never had a girl. Steven however has now rectified matters and the train journey to Ormiston will always be linked with the news that Ana had been for a scan and the baby, due about September, is a GIRL! Sandra is delighted.

We finally said goodbye to the Tait family on Sunday morning and headed off once more – this time we plan to go to the Carnarvon Gorge. Whether or not we actually get there I’ll let you know.

Old men, Hippies and Thunderbird Park

Leaving Bellingen behind we set off North again and, after much meandering, we ended up on the Friday night at small town called Kyogle. We were headed for the Border Ranges National Park but, when Sandra heard the Kyogle Market was on the next morning, we opted for a commercial campsite in the town. The Information Office told us that there was one site in the town although there was “another place” near the showground that had camping. Inevitably we found ourselves at the “other place” which proved interesting. There were hardly any campers there, it being populated with a number of decrepit residential caravans mostly housing equally decrepit single old men plus a number of single young men in temporary accommodation. Surrounded by older people of course made Sandra quite at home (professionally speaking of course) – so we stayed for two nights.

The Kyogle Market provided us with fresh fruit and veg but was a bit disappointing on the Arts and Crafts front which was Sandra’s main interest. A further disappointment came in the evening as I had noticed the pub had up a big sign saying it sold Guinness – it didn’t!

After the market we went for a drive to Nimbin – a town we had visited many years before and we were interested to see if there had been any changes. Nimbin is famous for being the “Hippy Town” as in 1973 it was the venue for the Aquarius Festival. Then the town was filled with long-haired, beautiful people – free-love was the order of the day and the appropriate music and drugs permeated the scene – it was pretty far out man! After Aquarius - enamoured by the good weather, liberal attitudes and easily available marijuana – many stayed on to enjoy an alternative lifestyle. When we arrived there for the first time, a quarter of a century had passed since Aquarius, but many of the hippies were still in residence although no longer in the first flush of youth. The main street was a row of psychedelically painted shops selling a range of drug related paraphernalia and the odd postcard. After only five minutes I was approached and asked if I wanted to “score”.

Another 14 years have passed and I am delighted to say that nothing has changed - the row of tacky psychedelic shops was still there and Sandra was offered drugs after five minutes on the street (she never actually told me if she had accepted the offer) There have been some changes of course – the ageing hippies have aged even further, their children have run away from home to seek alternative lifestyles as accountants in Sydney and the whole “hippy culture” has in itself become a tourist attraction (is that not a contradiction in itself?) Companies now run Nimbin tours using brightly painted double-decker buses (see photo) bringing weekend hippies from the coast to experience the hippy lifestyle. I am convinced that many of the aging hippies are in fact employed by the Council to add authenticity to the streets and to offer the tourists drugs so they would not leave disappointed – the “Nimbin Experience”!

Nimbin is a seriously interesting place with a lot of good, but different, shops and art galleries – I highly recommend a visit – particularly if you are of an age to remember “The Summer of Love”

The following day we eventually got to the Border Ranges following the “Lions Road” – so called as it was built as a tourist road over the mountains by the Lions Clubs of Kyogle and Beaudesert, small towns on either side of the New South Wales / Queensland border. The views over the caldera of a massive, but long extinct, volcano were stunning as was the scenery generally – but best of all was the crossing into Queensland – after two and a half months we had eventually left New South Wales. There is still a long way to go – and time is getting short.

The first town we came to was Beaudesert with didn’t appear to have much to hold us so we pushed on to Canungra and Tambourine Mountain with the intention of camping somewhere on the latter. Canungra was a great little town, although a bit touristy, with interesting shops selling “genuine” Ned Kelly wanted posters and a great hotel where we had lunch – massive plates of fish and proper home-made chips, a rare treat. Then on to Tambourine Mountain to camp – or not to camp as it happened.

We assumed that, at the top of the mountain there would be bush camping, however when we got to the top we were surprised to find smart houses with manicured lawns and a general genteelness more appropriate to rural Surrey than the sort of places we normally camped. Pressing on we arrived at the Thunderbird Park campsite (see photo) – very busy and swarming with kids on their last weekend of the Easter holidays – it was some sort of theme park which led to our quick exit. We are not Thunderbird Park campers.

So on to Brisbane a day earlier that expected to stay with our old friends Willie and Helen Tait, whom many of you will remember from Eskbank, and their three delightful (dare I say otherwise!) children Jenny, Cameron and Kirsty. Thereafter followed yet another coincidence and “small world” experience that makes all the others pale into insignificance – see next blog.

Maclean - The Scottish Town

This is a one off blog for any Macleans who may log on – particularly Ron Maclean. Today we re-visited Maclean – known as “The Scottish Town” and it is easy to see why, I have never seen a whole town so dedicated to Scotland and all things Scottish, albeit in the most extreme Australian kitsch. I was last here in about 1998 and at that time is seemed to be the ultimate one-horse town although with an interesting feature – several of the lamp-posts in the main street were painted in various clan tartans. I have occasionally wondered about this and today all my questions were answered.

Maclean of 2010 seems a much more lively, prosperous town than in 1998 – however the main expansion seems to be in the number of tartan lamp-posts – they were everywhere. By sheer coincidence we bumped into the one person who could give us the whole story – Nancy from Kirknewton (near Edinburgh) Although she left Scotland back in 1965 she had not lost her Scottish accent and it seems the tartan lampposts were her idea. Many towns in Australia have a “gimmick” usually taking the form of a giant statue of a local animal or vegetable – therefore you have The Big Banana, The Big Sheep and in Humpty Doo in the Northern Territory a giant statue of a Boxing Crocodile (honestly – how could I make this stuff up!!)

Maclean did not have a gimmick but Nancy though it should have one, and one which promoted the Scottish history and culture of the place – after all there has been a Highland Gathering and Games in Maclean for 107 years, not to mention the famous Maclean Pipe Band. Nancy, an arch publicist if there ever was one, knew that the Olympic Torch for the Sydney 2000 Games would be passing through Maclean and proposed that some of the lamp-posts should be tartanised. It took two years for planning approval to be given but eventually ten posts were painted in various clan tartans with the name of the clan at the top – and done at Nancy’s expense!

The scheme was a hit and as we drove through Maclean today we could not believe the explosion of tartan – two hundred (!) posts have now been decorated with clan tartans – unbelievable, in questionable taste, but fabulous.

The town certainly seems to be more bustling than it was – there was a buzz about the place that had been missing in 1998. Even the Maclean Hotel, which in 1998 had served us a pretty mediocre lunch, was now very much trendified with the most amazing, kitsch, awful but somehow fabulous mural on the courtyard wall (see photo)

Currently in the Highlands of Scotland there is much debate about multi-lingual road signs i.e. road signs in both Gaelic and English. You will be interested to know that the Gaelic/English debate is of a global nature but Maclean has bitten the bullet and has Gaelic in the road signs as per the photograph – although I look forward to Ron’s approving (or otherwise) of the translation.

Finally, a test for Ron and any other Gaelic scholars out there – the motto of Maclean in Gaelic is “Failte yo baile MacGhill’Leathain” – what is the translation of this into English? Please post your answer as a comment on the blog.

Platypuses, Possums and Pyjamas

Tuesday 7 April and we are finally on our way. Heading north we stopped briefly at Forster to pick up supplies then set out for the Oxley Wild Rivers National Park. Initally on the Pacific Highway we bypassed Taree and Port Macquarie then turned inland on the Oxley Highway – needless to say, and in true Douglas Walkabout fashion, we did not get to our intended destination. There are 790 National Parks in New South Wales and, having shelled out $65 for an annual pass, Sandra was leaving no National Park uncaptured! We diverted to Werrikimbe National Park – yet another World Heritage listed park with the usual array of warm temperate, cool temperate and sub-tropical rainforests. It was also “ideal for those wishing to get away from the crowds” which, after our experiences at Yagon the previous two nights. was quite an attraction.

After a 25 k drive in over the usual dirt roads we arrived at Mooraback, an old cattle station now reverted to nature, and found the best campsite we have had so far on the trip – clean, grassy with a firepit and a handy supply of firewood. As we only planned to stay for one night we set up a very minimal camp so we could get away early the next morning. Camp established, we went on a walk to look for one of Australia’s reclusive creatures – the almost mythical Duck-billed Platypus – which we heard could sometimes be seen in the area. After an hour walk through the bush we found what looked a likely spot and waited. It was dusk, apparently a good time to see them, and we were not disappointed. We had not expected to see one but there they were and there was just enough light to get some reasonable photographs.

Back at camp we cooked a meal on a real wood fire, then off to bed for what proved to be one of the coldest nights of our lives! Equipped for warm tropic nights we had under-estimated the night time temperatures at over 4000 feet. The next morning, after scraping the frost from the tent (OK perhaps it wasn’t THAT cold) we set off for the town of Walcha stopping to take in a couple of dramatic waterfalls on the way – Tia Falls and Apsley Falls.

Although known as New England this part of the country obviously has had a strong Scottish influence judging by the names of places and cattle stations along the way including Talisker, Armidale and more Glens and Invers than you could shake a cromach at! We stopped at Armidale a fairly large and seemingly prosperous town (in fact it would probably call itself a city as it has two cathedrals, one Anglican and one Catholic) for Sandra to make what she saw as an essential purchase – a pair of yellow flannelette pyjamas - no more freezing nights for her!

From Armidale we decided to turn east and head for Dorrigo National Park – a place we had been to about 14 years ago. But first we needed another campsite and ended up at a place in the wilds called Cathedral Rock – still at almost 4000 feet it was set to be another chilly night. Again we were pretty isolated with no other campers to be seen – but we were not alone!

One of the leaving presents Sandra received from her colleagues at Bield was a head torch which, in addition to the usual white light, could also project a red beam. As night fell the red beam could pick out many lights in the bush surrounding us – eyes watching us. Many were kangaroos, however we were about to have yet another clash with our old adversaries – the possums. But these were not the elusive creatures of previous encounters as they launched full frontal attacks. We had food and they were out to get it. Normally possums are thieves in the night, raiding rubbish bags looking for food – but these had lost their fear of humans and came to within two feet trying to get food – but this time I had a camera. As you can see from the photo, they are scary, vicious looking creatures although this time we survived unscathed.

Then off to Dorrigo. Whilst beautiful - with wonderful views, an aerial skywalk etc it has become very “sanitised” since we were last there. The paths have been covered with tarmac, the visitor centre extended to include a theatre and exhibition space, proper toilets etc. Still, a satisfactory experience and we had a good picnic.

Which brings me up-to-date. We are in a small town called Belligen visiting an old friend called Erika who very kindly offered us a bed. But, as we are campers, we turned her down and set up camp in her garden – actually it was because the tent was a bit damp and I wanted it to dry out (fat chance with the drought-busters arriving – it rained last night – again!)

Once again we have come across another of life’s little co-incidences. You may recall when we were in Sydney I received an e-mail from my cousin Mary in Canada telling me that her niece Kerri will be arriving in Sydney and indeed we met up with her. Mary, and her sister Jean, attended Kilgraston – a boarding school in Scotland as their parents lived in South America. It transpired that our hostess Erika also went to Kilgraston at about the same time. As we were onto our ?th bottle of wine we thought it would be a good idea to take a photo of Erika and send it to Mary to see if it jogged the memory – it did – they were at school together. Small world.

PS Erika owns Koompartoo Retreat in Bellingen – “Exquisite Rainforest Chalets” – anyone interested should have a look at her website http://www.koompartoo.com.au/ First class and thoroughly recommended.

Trouble with Bull Ants and the return of the Killer Possums

After leaving Barrington Tops with their fogs and rain we headed back to the coast to meet up with Steven for the last time before finally going “properly” north. We went to Seal Rocks and found a great place to camp by the beach called Yagon in Myall Lakes National Park. The place was deserted and we had the pick of all the sites. Now being experienced campers we were able to assess the site like a couple of old professionals – look for somewhere shady to avoid the sun - somewhere flat - somewhere out of the wind and, if it rains, place your tent to avoid rain in the kitchen etc. We found the perfect spot which met all our criteria and got the tent erected in record time.

However we did make one mistake, a major one as it turned out – always check your site for any sitting tenants before pitching your tent – particularly bull ants! Noticing half a dozen ants on the floor, I brushed them out – only to find they had been replaced by dozens more. Having got rid of these I realised that we had a problem on our hands as, erupting from the ground in malevolent hordes, the tent was being taken over by ants – really large ones with big jaws and an amazing ability to jump (honestly). Suddenly Sandra started screaming as they found their way up her trouser legs and into her clothing. There followed a scene reminiscent of her being attacked in the garden last summer by a swarm of wasps and her trying to divest herself of her clothes as they started stinging. I don’t know how or why but ants, like wasps, seem to make a bee-line for bras and knickers and it did seem quite painful. Mind you it wasn’t just Sandra – I got stung on my finger and it was very sore! No photos of this episode I’m afraid.

There was nothing for it but to take the tent down and start all over again on some fresh, ant free ground. Unfortunately the next morning we had to do the whole thing over again as the National Park Wardens appeared to say that, as it was Easter week-end, they we expecting a big influx of visitors and we had done our second pitching over two sites – so could we please move! We did – our third pitching of the tent in 12 hours – well they say practice makes perfect!

Over the next 24 hours the place was invaded by young surfies looking for a hard days surfing followed by lots of drink and loud music. Whilst there was a day I would have joined in, it wasn’t last weekend – and having my eardrums blasted at two o’clock in the morning with rap music at full volume was not a lot of fun. Unfortunately I can get a bit grumpy in those circumstances and went out to remonstrate. I will gloss over the actual details and certainly deny the allegations of assault – suffice to say the music stopped and next day they left, I can just hear my sister-in-law Gill saying “What a curmudgeon!”

To cap it all the possum problem returned – this time a roving band of possums raided the tent and devoured most of a bowl of fruit and what they left was not fit for human consumption. All in all a troublesome night with the locals!

We had an excellent time with Steven, Ana and Lex and found the perfect beach at Seal Rocks with safe water for Lex, massive waves for Steven and lots of shells and other arty things for Sandra and Ana to collect to make into brooches and similar objects. With Ana four months pregnant she wasn’t doing much cavorting in the sea.

Steven and Co left to return to Sydney on Easter Sunday with Sandra and I leaving on Monday morning to head North from whence the next blog will be posted.

PS Sandra attacked my beard with a pair of nail scissors – she said I looked like Roald Dahl’s Mr Twit!