14 November 2012 - Milton Showgrounds, Shoalhaven, NSW

It had rained through the night and when I rose, looked like it was about to once more. And so it did, and continued on and on most of the day. This did not fit well with our plans, however we had rashly telephoned ahead immediately after breakfast to book a camp site in Nowra for three days from tomorrow, so there was now no possibility of extending here and waiting for the worst of the weather to pass. Again I checked the weather report online; a few showers and worse tomorrow. We would be alright after all.

We headed about thirty kilometres up the Princes Highway, much of it travelled yesterday. The road passes through the edge of the Conjola National Park and is quite lovely, the tall forest coming right to the road side. Inland, the hills we had walked yesterday were completely shrouded with cloud; I was glad that we had scheduled that for yesterday rather than today.

West of the St George Basin, we turned east on to the Sussex Inlet Road and drove the fifteen kilometres out to Sussex Inlet. The township of  just over three and a half thousand inhabitants is on an island, not immediately apparent when looking at a map of the Shoalhaven region. It is quite however quite obvious when you see the town map, and has been even further manipulated by man to form residential canal areas for the few smart homes. Most of the town is made up of more modest older baches and many holiday resorts or once-were-caravan-parks  now full of onsite shacks and caravans and annexes, obviously owned by commuting long weekenders. The narrow inlet is the natural canal which empties the St George Basin into the Tasman Sea, and is populated with numerous small low lying islands. Even in the drizzle, the place had a charm. All along the inlet shore were small private jetties and mooring posts, all with signs announcing private ownership and no welcome for strangers. Pelicans and seagulls hovvered about waiting for dinghies to arrive with their fishy haul, many duly rewarded as we watched. We must have walked for a couple of kilometres, maybe more, before returning to the cruiser with our sodden coats and caps.

Sussex Inlet

We then drove south, just inland from Wreck Bay, along the eastern shore of Swan Lake, and explored the small waterside settlements of Swan Haven, Cudmirrah and Berrara. Like Sussex Inlet, these are well established holiday spots, some of the houses dating back to the middle of last century or before. But they were much quieter, almost devoid of activity. Truth be told, any that were in residence were probably updating their blogs, moaning about the rain on Facebook or reading newspapers. Or perhaps not. Not everyone is like us.

By now the rain had set in more seriously and we had no desire to check out the open beach at Berrara or for that matter to check it out further south at Bendalong which had been the next destination on the list. We decided that we would still head for Lake Conjala and as we travelled back down the Princes Highway, I could almost believe the day was brightening.

Lake Conjola is a deep coastal lake between the Highway and ocean, as well as the name of the settlement at the entrance, home to about five hundred people. Again we found heaps of holiday facilities, caravan parks, cabins galor, and folk out fishing. The weather had lifted enough to encourage pairs of middle aged men to venture forth in their little dinghies and children (who probably should have been at school) to fish from the shore. We drove to the very end of the southern head, passing through a very large caravan park. Here we saw dozens of kangaroos lounging about outside empty cabins as if claiming them to be their territory before the hordes arrive at Christmas.

We wandered along the southern shoreline. Dodging the duck and pelican poo, and thought that this would be a very good place to come with the grandchildren, if one had a dinghy or kayak. Alas, we have neither and the the children are some distance away, and I suspect that the older ones would rather have movie theatres and fun resorts available.  Speaking of which, our oldest grandson turned ten today and as always we marvel at the way the years have flown by.

We walked up an unnecessarily long boardwalk across the sand dunes to the ocean but decided we did not feel like walking along the beach even though the rain was still holding off. Instead we engaged in conversation with a couple from Sydney as we all watched a very long red-bellied black snake lanquidly pause beneath us. Three snakes in two days! Rather exciting, I think!

We checked our watches; it was nearly two o’clock and we had promised to Skype young Jackson when he returned from school. With a two hour time difference it was time we were home and carrying out our promise. No sooner had we set off again toward home than the rain started once more. What timing! How lucky we had been with the weather after all. As for my wet rain coat? It had dried in the seabreeze while I was admiring the red-bellied serpent.

Back home, we struggled to make contact as promised. We shall keep trying on the half hour.