Monday, October 22, 2012

22 October 2012 - Bega Caravan Park, Sapphire Coast, NSW


It was cold on waking this morning in Cooma and is forecasted to be even more so tonight, however we have moved on, off the Great Divide and down nearer the coast, just short of twenty kilometres from the coast as the crow flies.

Our first destination after leaving the camp was Monara Discount Tyres, down in Cooma central, where the efficient staff turned our rogue tyre around on the caravan, thus delaying the need for renewal. It seems the problem is related to the axle and will require attention from people with more facilities than are to be had in Cooma, however in the meantime, this will keep us safe.

We headed off south across the treeless Monaro Plains, through the rain whipped up by the south westerly winds. Flocks of sheep and small herds of cattle huddled miserably on the open plains; it seemed a good argument for wintering barns, even if it is no longer winter. We passed through Nimmitabel, stayed in earlier in the year, pausing to use the public facilities before returning thankfully to the warmth and shelter of the vehicle.

About ten kilometres south of this small village, the Monaro Highway became once more the Snowy Mountains Highway, turned more easterly and tipped off over the escarpment down a winding steep slow road, as all roads up and down the eastern seaboard of this continent do so well.

As we came over the top, we caught a short glimpse of the valley far below stretching out into the rain mist. Once at the bottom, having descended 800 metres in a distance of six kilometres, we arrived at Bemboka. It surprised me to learn that 578 folk inhabit this rather tired looking place. It was once an important stopping post for the bridle path up to the Monaro Plains, and later a centre for the dairy industry thereabouts. Today it seems that arty crafty folk with few resources have moved into the dwellings vacated by more purposeful people, who have in turn moved where the action is. Perhaps this is an unfair view, and if it is and you are a go-ahead switched on inhabitant of Bemboka, I apologise for making such a generalisation.

The road twists and turns along the hills at the edge of the Bega Valley and then as it nears the town of Bega, we turned south on the Pacific Highway, and travelled the last of our day’s journey into the Information Centre at Bega.

This doubles as the Bega Cheese Heritage Centre, a place busy with busloads of tourists, and tourists in every other sort of conveyance. Here there is a café, a craft shop, a cheese shop, an excellent little dairy museum and the run of the mill tourist information centre, all located within the confines of the working cheese factory. Strange as it may seem, neither of us had made the connection between Bega, the place, with Bega, the cheese, which we have purchased both here in Australia and in New Zealand. Of course, it should have been obvious, particularly if we had read the place of manufacture, but then we are not infallible.

Bega is a rural service centre, with over 4,500 inhabitants, well placed on the highway that runs all the way up and down the coast, and the centre of a fertile dairying region. It was our plan to visit the art gallery and the museum, and then move on further south, probably camping by the roadside at some free camp, however it has rained on and off all day, and is likely to be cold again tonight, so we have decided to stay a day or two, maybe three.

Hence we are established at the only caravan park in town, managed by a delightful chap who advised us that some of the routes we wish to explore are better travelled without a caravan in tow. The forecast is better for the week ahead, and tomorrow the art gallery will be open. I should have checked the small print before we drove back into town to visit this centre of culture; Monday is often a rest day. 

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