OK, it’s not quite a dingo stole my baby but it’s true (more of that later)!!
The scene of this crime was the Lower North Coast of NSW, where I was headed for the long Labour Day weekend, a public holiday which couldn’t quite align with my birthday but allowed for a drive further afield. The drive was broken up by Sydney, a mere three hours up a gusty, stormy Hume Highway on Friday night. Sydney was steamy but the storms came rolling in, cooling it down and bringing a grey, damp start to the weekend. Only a fantastic breakfast in Coogee could brighten the mood and it sure did that.
And with that my friend Jill and I whizzed north. Well I say whizzed but it took over an hour to get over the Harbour Bridge and up out of the Northern suburbs of Sydney. The journey seemed to get even longer when we made a detour to Uluru and I decided it was worth the climb. Somehow Uluru seemed to have moved on top of a service station off the Pacific Highway, but hey ho, whatever. And after several hours, we arrived at Pacific Palms, just south of Forster and in an area they call the Great Lakes, famed for lakes and greatness.
An initial exploration was cut short by yet another storm rolling in and so there was little to do but go eat up in Forster. Everyone else seemed to be doing the same however, so while the dinner of fish and chips was pretty good, the on a lap in the Magna in a dark car park was hardly Michelin star.
The next day promised something a bit brighter and it was oh so nice to be able to get up, wander down the hill, stroll along Elizabeth Beach and watch the dolphins milling about beyond the breakers. Follow that with coffee and cake at a very laid back, slightly crazy place nearby and all was pretty chilled. Further stops on the morning tour took in Cape Hawke, where a lookout was hazed in and accompanied by Ronan Keating singing when tomorrow never comes (you had to be there) and a trip down to Seal Rocks, which despite being down a dirt road seemed to be somewhat frenetically filled with smelly backpackers and similar types. Just round the corner, and in Myall Lakes National Park, was Sugarloaf Point and a lighthouse which claims to be the on the second most easterly point in Australia. Second best but first rate views, if somewhat blustery.
The scene of this crime was the Lower North Coast of NSW, where I was headed for the long Labour Day weekend, a public holiday which couldn’t quite align with my birthday but allowed for a drive further afield. The drive was broken up by Sydney, a mere three hours up a gusty, stormy Hume Highway on Friday night. Sydney was steamy but the storms came rolling in, cooling it down and bringing a grey, damp start to the weekend. Only a fantastic breakfast in Coogee could brighten the mood and it sure did that.
And with that my friend Jill and I whizzed north. Well I say whizzed but it took over an hour to get over the Harbour Bridge and up out of the Northern suburbs of Sydney. The journey seemed to get even longer when we made a detour to Uluru and I decided it was worth the climb. Somehow Uluru seemed to have moved on top of a service station off the Pacific Highway, but hey ho, whatever. And after several hours, we arrived at Pacific Palms, just south of Forster and in an area they call the Great Lakes, famed for lakes and greatness.An initial exploration was cut short by yet another storm rolling in and so there was little to do but go eat up in Forster. Everyone else seemed to be doing the same however, so while the dinner of fish and chips was pretty good, the on a lap in the Magna in a dark car park was hardly Michelin star.
The next day promised something a bit brighter and it was oh so nice to be able to get up, wander down the hill, stroll along Elizabeth Beach and watch the dolphins milling about beyond the breakers. Follow that with coffee and cake at a very laid back, slightly crazy place nearby and all was pretty chilled. Further stops on the morning tour took in Cape Hawke, where a lookout was hazed in and accompanied by Ronan Keating singing when tomorrow never comes (you had to be there) and a trip down to Seal Rocks, which despite being down a dirt road seemed to be somewhat frenetically filled with smelly backpackers and similar types. Just round the corner, and in Myall Lakes National Park, was Sugarloaf Point and a lighthouse which claims to be the on the second most easterly point in Australia. Second best but first rate views, if somewhat blustery.
It would be an ideal spot for a tearoom but food had to wait until Smiths Lake, where I bought a Chicken burger to snack on down on some picnic tables beside the water. All was going well and I was nearing the peak of the meal… saving the best until last, when down swooped a Kookaburra, snatched it out of my hand and simply left me in mild shock and severe rage. You’re just a glorified shite-hawk!
The Kookaburra incident clearly left me shocked so it was lucky that the sun really started to shine and I was able to spend a couple of hours down on secluded Shelly Beach, though not so secluded as to conceal some chubby lard ass dangling his tackle on his jaunts from a hidden rocky inlet down to the water. We stuck to the more child friendly side of the beach, reading, occasionally strolling along the water and generally being very content. Now this is what I had come here for.
Now I hear you saying, nice beach, but where are these Great Lakes? Well, the main one is a mere stone throw from the coast across a narrow strip of land. Despite being a boaties mecca (judging by the fish jumping you can understand why), it remains pretty serene, especially as the sun disappears behind yet more cloud…
So Australia has great beaches and great lakes. It also apparently has great hogspitality at the Hog’s Breath Café, a chain of meaty places scattered across the country, where it seems any true blue Aussie still calls home. It’s one of those, oh I know, let’s be zany and put an old tricycle on the ceiling and a number plate on that pillar. Nice steak but I honestly don’t see what all the fuss is about, especially when this country (well, the cities at least) has so much going for it food-wise. Still, least it was Kookaburra free!
And so it was Monday, the public holiday and a day to sit in a car, drive 750 kilometres, get cabin fever coupled with sugar rush and sing out loud slightly naff songs from Floorfillers disc two. The weather was grey, then slightly brighter around the inland town of Gloucester
before pelting it down around Stroud. Back on the Pacific Highway the traffic built around Hexham and Newcastle and it wasn’t just the place names which were starting to resemble England. Yet somehow, thanks to the sugar and floorfillers, it was an absolute hoot.
Detour number two brought brighter weather and a very scenic if slightly bendy drive along the Hawkesbury River to Wiseman’s Ferry, reached, not at all ironically, by ferry. Here, the sun was out and almost all of Western Sydney were picnicking and despite this it was very pleasant. The power was out and no coffee was available but it was still very pleasant. It would’ve been nice to stay but time was getting on and we threaded our way back down to Windsor and across Western Sydney back to Coogee.
Here, the last rays of sun were filtering their way out to sea (at a pleasingly late 7pm… oh yes, daylight saving) and we finished things off with a Brazilian Barbecue meat fest (still making up for that stolen chicken). That was really it, apart from it wasn’t really it as I still had the three hour drive back to Canberra, across another blustery Hume Highway, fuelled only by intense service station coffee, more shout out loud singing and memories of the great weekend.
And so it was Monday, the public holiday and a day to sit in a car, drive 750 kilometres, get cabin fever coupled with sugar rush and sing out loud slightly naff songs from Floorfillers disc two. The weather was grey, then slightly brighter around the inland town of Gloucester
before pelting it down around Stroud. Back on the Pacific Highway the traffic built around Hexham and Newcastle and it wasn’t just the place names which were starting to resemble England. Yet somehow, thanks to the sugar and floorfillers, it was an absolute hoot.
Detour number two brought brighter weather and a very scenic if slightly bendy drive along the Hawkesbury River to Wiseman’s Ferry, reached, not at all ironically, by ferry. Here, the sun was out and almost all of Western Sydney were picnicking and despite this it was very pleasant. The power was out and no coffee was available but it was still very pleasant. It would’ve been nice to stay but time was getting on and we threaded our way back down to Windsor and across Western Sydney back to Coogee.Here, the last rays of sun were filtering their way out to sea (at a pleasingly late 7pm… oh yes, daylight saving) and we finished things off with a Brazilian Barbecue meat fest (still making up for that stolen chicken). That was really it, apart from it wasn’t really it as I still had the three hour drive back to Canberra, across another blustery Hume Highway, fuelled only by intense service station coffee, more shout out loud singing and memories of the great weekend.
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