It rained last night, quite heavily, but there was
no evidence of it by morning. But the wind was even stronger than yesterday
and so we sat over breakfast wondering how we would spend our day. And then the
siren went off and we knew what it meant. Whales! Or rather, to use the
traditional call, “Rusho, rusho!!!!!” And so we jumped in the land cruiser,
leaving the dirty dishes on the sink and the lunch half made. I had time to
clean my teeth but no more; a first for me to rush out into the world without
my face on.
Arriving at the lookout, we found only one park left
and dozens of folk standing out on the platform wrapped from head to toe in
parkas and woolly accessories, all gazing toward the whales frolicking in the
wide bay. It is true that they were all some distance, more on the southern
side than closer to Eden. We joined the other voyeurs in the gale force
conditions, delighting in the fact that here were at last the whales, but more
than that, we could see them clearly despite the many white horses, more
numerous than yesterday. There were whale tails in the air, just as they show
in promotional pictures. Eat your heart out, Kaikoura!
After half an hour or so, we headed back, leaving a
parking space for other eager whale watchers, late arrivals hoping they were
not too much so. Back at the caravan park, we finished our abandoned chores and
daily tasks, and then headed off down the Pacific Highway, calling firstly into
Quarantine Bay to find the local yacht and fishing clubs. We then drove on
further south and pulled into Boydtown and found the Seahorse Inn and the
caravan park where we might have stayed had the proprietor ever bothered to
reply to our email. This is also where one can find the ruins of a lost empire.
We admired the fabulous beach and the lovely resort, however did not mess about
looking for any ruins.
The building that now functions as a resort was (and
still is) the Seahorse Inn and was built by Benjamin Boyd in 1843 using convict
labour and named after the paddle steamer, the Seahorse, in which he had sailed to Sydney in 1840. Boyd was a man
of magnificent dreams and dabbled in many activities, only some of which
succeeded. But to his credit, within two years of his arrival in the colony, he
was one of the largest landholders. He decided that Twofold Bay, as one of the
deepest natural harbours in the world, would serve him well as a port to
service his industries. In fact he hoped that Boydtown would become the capital
of Australia. So between 1843 and 1847, when his financial situation had failed
his dreams, he dabbled in grazing, whaling, shipping and town building. It was
he who built a 19.5 metre sandstone tower out at South Head. It was intended as
a lighthouse however the authorities would not allow it to operate as such, and
so it functioned as a lookout for whale spotting.
Boyd finally left his Australian enterprises, many incomplete,
and set off for the Californian goldfields, but failed there as well. In 1851
he disappeared after alighting at San Cristobel Island in the Solomon Islands
to shoot ducks, never to be seen again.
There is much more to tell about this Boyd, however
I shall not test your tolerance here. He is immortalised here about Eden with
roads, towers, National Parks and other geographical features named after him.
And it was to the National Park we headed, turning
off the Pacific Highway 19 kilometres south of Eden, driving through a corner
of the 20,100 hectare State Forest. Gums grow densely where they have not been
logged or burnt, although the last major forest fire was way back in 1952. We
drove into the Davidson Whaling Station located on the shores of the Kiah Inlet
on Twofold Bay. This was the longest operating shore based whaling station in
Australia and the last to close down after operating continuously from the 1860s
through to the late 1920s. The whale population declined to a point where it
was no longer economic, and that is no surprise given that at one point there
were twenty seven whaleboats operating out of the bay, all competing with one
another.
Here at the historic site is an old homestead, the
successor to the first which burnt down and the tryworks station, the site of the shed where the strips of whale blubber
were brought and rendered down into oil. Here too was a small wharf from where
the oil was shipped across to Eden for further export. The surrounds are just
beautiful and it is hard to believe that such a gory and smelly business took place
here. Apparently the stench permeated everything and sometimes even drifted
across the wide bay to Eden.
Despite the charm of the spot, the wind still
managed to find its way into this inlet as well, and so we were soon back in
the shelter of the land cruiser. We drove on further east to the Navy Wharf, a
surprisingly large wharf which I walked out onto after lunch. From this huge
structure, one has views of the bay and the great mountains of wood chip awaiting
shipment adjacent to the wharf complex.
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| Boyd's Tower |
Further on we turned toward the South Head, and
walked the short distance to Boyd’s Tower. I have already described this,
above, but was still quite impressed with the four sided structure. We wandered
another short distance to the far point and watched a whale watching boat
touring about in the choppy seas. The wind had not abated one bit, so we
decided to head back to camp and give up any other plans for the day.
We did call in to Nullica Bay, where the Nullica
River enters the large bay. The tide was low and I walked bare foot through the
estuary. A dear friend of mine, Brenda, once prescribed walking barefoot in the
sand as a great remedy for stress. I have no stress these days however I can
confirm that such indulgence is indeed quite liberating.
Back at camp, we discussed the possibility of
staying on here at Eden until we have to return to Bega to have the land cruiser
serviced, and basing ourselves here rather than hopping from one small place to
another up the short stretch of coastline. I did a load of washing which
quickly dried in the wind and sunshine. The bell miners are still at it and we
have yet to go mad.
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