It had rained through the night and the good news was that there was evidence of none inside. Obviously the silicone treatment at Belmont had done the trick. I had hoped we might have made another attempt to explore the ocean beach outside the camp gates and across the road, but the weather conditions were still not encouraging. Instead we headed off with a vigorous farewell wave to the sweet Christian lady and headed on to Forster just eleven kilometres away.
I had read that Forster was not unlike the Gold
Coast; a fact that had not particularly excited me. We drove up through Forster
Keys and saw the unpretentious waterside homes partially obscured by the
roadside trees. Further on through an otherwise ordinary urban area and we
found our way to the Information Centre on the lakeside. Here we were treated to
a wealth of information particularly about attractions we had already bypassed
and a bag of maps and brochures which I still need to spend time studying
before we embark on any further touring.
The volunteer told us about the special of the day;
Forster’s Crazy Day. We were directed to head for the main street at once from where
traffic had been banned and the entire population of seaside holiday makers had
congregated to listen to the buskers, jump on the bouncy caste, have their hair
sprayed with blue, purple and other weird and wonderful colours or simply
indulge in retail therapy in the many shops all offering a mass of heavily
reduced goods. Most of the retailers were dressed up in crazy
gear nearly all sporting zany synthetic wigs. We wandered through the throngs and on down to the southern
shore of the lake entrance. Alas the wind was up and the temperatures too cool
to really make this very pleasant but we did have to acknowledge that Forster-Tuncurry
was a delightful seaside destination.
We returned via the other side of the street where
Chris had the opportunity to drool over some classic cars displayed to entertain
the menfolk while the women bought new wardrobes. As we walked back along the
lakeside, we noted the oyster farms marked out by posts rising up from the base
of the shallow lake. Alas, neither Chris nor I are great fans of oysters; I
personally only like them smoked in cans.
We drove across to the Tuncurry side of the entrance
and parked toward the breakwater, which we walked along to the far end. To the
north we watched several dozen wetsuit clad surfers waiting for the perfect
wave. The weather reports had suggested that the surf on this coast was
dangerous for bathing in, but words such as those only act as a challenge to
real surfers, and most of those whom we watched were that.
To the south of the breakwater we watched a couple
of dolphins swim lazily in through the entrance, perhaps to check out the
oyster farms. Above a small flock of pelicans hung in the upward drafts and
alongside us, a family joined us on the pavement on their skateboards.
After lunch we came on to Taree and checked with the
Information Centre that the camp facilities at the showgrounds offered power
sites. With confirmation we proceeded, checked in with Vic who seems to spend
his days on the verandah of the caretaker’s old cottage reading the newspaper
and watching over the few campers here in the paddock. Once set up we drove the
short distance to Coles and stocked up large. In our short absence a further
two campers had arrived so we are six here tonight. At $11 per person per
night, it is much cheaper than the other camping ground on offer however as
with most showground camps, the facilities are very basic. They will do.
Taree is the major commercial centre of the Manning
Valley with a population of 18,000 and will hopefully prove to be a good base for
our explorations over the next few days.
The Manning River runs alongside Taree and was
named by Robert Dawson in the early 1820s.
I have a particular interest in the area because my
great great uncle George, the Bevege convict who encouraged the further emigration
of the family that finally begat me to this part of the world, was assigned to
Hart Davis who was allotted land up in this area between the
Manning and Lansdowne Rivers, in 1832. It is also in this general area that the
sister of a very special friend of ours has land to which she pops up to from
the northern suburbs in Sydney to shift the cattle from one paddock to another.
Bear in mind that we have taken over a week to get here from Sydney but then
this lady probably drives a fast modern SUV without the burden of a two and a
half ton caravan.
The river system is the heart of the Manning Valley,
including 150 kilometres of navigable waterways and is Australia’s only river
delta system featuring two river entrances at Harrington and Old Bar. The two
major branches of the river create three very large islands; Dumaresq Island,
Oxley Island and Mitchells island. The associated rivers and creeks – the Lansdowne
River, the Dawson River, Scotts Creek, Cattai Creek and Ghinni Ghinni Creek
result in the creation of a number of other islands including Jones Island,
Cabbage Tree Island and Charlies Island. All of these rivers and creeks are navigable
by boat.
I am looking forward to exploring this all ourselves
without resorting to written guides.
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