Far, far out

It really was quite fortuitous that Governor Phillip, a few other white cronies and a couple of ships full of bread stealers arrived on these shores at the end of January. Over 200 years later their arrival (or invasion) provides us with a public holiday in the midst of summer, yet another opportunity for BBQ breakfasts, picnics in the park, flag waving and face paints, beer drinking and singing about sheep shearing and swag dancing. The build up to Australia Day itself encapsulated the full range of this land down under where women glow and men plunder, beginning in the less than salubrious but fair dinkum dinky di true blue heartland of the outer west of Sydney and Rooty Hill RSL. This was all work related and not at all eventful enough to feature on this blog, all I’ll say is that I survived and got out of there to escape to the ever appealing escapee’s paradise of the Blue Mountains an hour west, where for once the Three Sisters were out and soaking up the late evening sun.

Further west the Blue Mountains descend into the pastoral heartland of the central West, which some of those people 200 or so years ago thought might just be China. Expecting some Yung Chow Fried Rice and over-extravagant opening ceremonies, they must have been a trifle disappointed to stumble upon Lithgow. Myself, well, I avoided Lithgow by heading down a darkening, narrowing, winding road full of unknown drops and possum eyes to Jenolan Caves, driving through a small section of the caves to a sprawl of mock tudor accommodation buildings which somehow didn’t look out of place at all.

The next day gave me an opportunity to explore some of the area including the caves themselves, which were of course mightily interesting, in parts dazzling, in others dark and cramped, but everywhere a pleasingly cooling 15 degrees Celsius.



The area provided just as many delights above ground, and the wildlife sightings were regular and diverse… wallabies, all kinds of lizard, Superb Lyrebirds, echidnas and, apparently, snakes.

There were also flies, damn flies, nowhere more so on the edge of Kanangra Walls looking down into yet more staggering wilderness of the Greater Blue Mountains World Heritage region. Just me and the flies for company.


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From the very edge of wilderness to the heart of the city in a couple of hours, I once more crossed the mountains and descended into the outer suburbs of Sydney, progressively passing smallholdings with orchards and apple pie shops, cricket greens, suburban malls, confusing road intersections and almost in sight of the old coat hanger itself before pausing at Crows Nest to complete the final (for now) stop on the delayed Baby Tour from Geneva. This time it was little Charlotte’s chance to feed and get grumpy about the sweltering heat whilst I was fed and moaned about the sweltering heat.

Heat which disappeared dramatically in one of those famous and slightly odd ‘changes’, where within the space of ten minutes the wind blows in from the south and suddenly you are made to look stupid in those shorts and thin layer of cotton as you’re sitting watching a free concert on the Domain. This is our city in summer so say the signs.

By now it was only Sunday and it feels like I have been through a tonne of stuff already and it’s not even good ol’ Straya day yet. Australia Day Eve took in some typically Australian sights, travelling under Sydney harbour to join the road to the Northern Beaches, which in England would be Scarborough but in Australia equals Summer Bay. The first stop was at Collaroy and an almost perfect spot for a coffee.

Glimpses of beach and backwater passed all the way to Palm Beach which, with Barrenjoey Head rising up from the Hawkesbury signals the end of this stretch of suburban Sydney. A different suburban Sydney to Rooty Hill and Mount Druitt and more commonly associated with Alf Stewart and that flaming galah. One of the best things about this spot, apart from being a mecca for Australia soap fanatics, is the other side, that is the alternative to sandy ocean beaches and Summer Bay surf club that is Pittwater and the Hawkesbury, all very accessible by ferry. Most of the houses around here have a jetty in their back yard but at Ettalong Beach there is a little more to see and do, nice food to eat and cheap birthday cards to buy. The proximity of Australia Day was clearly evident in the number of cricket sets on the beach and BBQs smouldering on the grass.



And so, full up on a combination of seafood, steak, ribs and a few chips the night before, the big day had finally arrived. The time to don the southern cross, arm yourself with an inflatable kangaroo and become a supporter of an increasingly mediocre cricket team. Australia Day 2009.
While there were a few inflatable kangaroos and flags on show, a significant proportion of people out on this Australian Day were from overseas and I daresay a few of them, like me, were wearing a tacky tourist top that said ‘Australia’ on it. Mine gets rolled out once a year. Previous Australia Days for me had been spent in Canberra and at the beach, so it was good to taste what Sydney had to offer. There sure was a lot going on and a very happy vibe amongst the streets, along the water and beside the park.

Highlights included a race of Sydney ferries, which was delayed and won by a ferry with a big yellow duck and the classic car parade which was obviously put on for the inner hoon in all of us. The only thing unAustralian was the weather, which though warm was grey and at times even drizzly in the English style. Don’t forget your roots.

And so, as the rain worsened it was back on the road to advance through Australia at a fair speed to the very centre of this world, the capital itself, listening to the Australian artists playlist and greeted by fireworks over Parliament House. Back home, to water the plants, wash my clothes and tie me kangaroo down.