31 March 2011 - Lane Cove National Park, Sydney, NSW

Another wet dull day in Sydney! We have managed to dodge the soaking rain but it has taken the gloss off our sightseeing.

Botony Bay and Cook’s landing were on the list of to-dos, as they are probably on everyone’s who come to Sydney. We had studied our map and decided that a combination of train, bus and walking would be the only way to achieve our goal, and so we set off this morning for the station in our coats, after I had pegged the wet washing on our portable line under the awning and made up another batch of milk.

We changed trains at Central and travelled south to Cronulla, passing through less salubrious vistas than those enjoyed on previous days. Railway tracks tend to pass the backend of life, of residences and factories, shops and wastelands, often defaced with graffiti or rubbish. The trip today was such as this.

If you look at a map of Sydney and it’s surrounding geography, you will see that south of the Sydney Harbour there is yet another larger harbour; Botony Bay. This is the outlet of the Georges River and the harbour into which Captain James Cook sailed on 28 April 1770.

Below this Bay, there is a narrow peninsula and to the south of that, Port Hacking and Bate Bay. The latter is the playground of surfers and bathers who have made Cronulla beach famous. I have to confess that I had no idea that Cronulla was a surf beach, or any kind of beach. I had heard of it in context of a sports team, and knew it to be a place in New South Wales; now I know otherwise. Today this well known beach was windy and wild and there were but four intrepid swimmers out in the water. We came, we saw and retired to the more sheltered street.

From the Cronulla station, we caught a bus out to Kurnell, on the peninsula of the same name that divides Botany Bay from Bate Bay. The driver assured us he would drop us to the stop nearby the landing place, and so he did. The very end of the peninsula is now a National Park where there are monuments of various kinds and explanatory plaques to educate. This rocky shore near Sutherland Point is effectively the birth place of modern Australia, because it was from that landing which began with a few lances being tossed at Cook and his crew and a few volleying shots aimed first in the air and then at dark legs, an eight day replenishment stop and the keen research by Joseph Banks, the botanist on board, who sent glowing reports of the suitability of New South Wales as a future settlement for the overflowing population of Great Britain back to the old country.

Many of the plaques also lament the fact that this was the death knell, figuratively, of the aboriginal way of life, a life that had been unchanged for thousands of years, and was never to be the same again.



An interesting thought particularly at this time when there is so much being written in the newspapers and said and unsaid in parliament here in Australia about the Aboriginal problems. It appears that Alice Springs is not a suitable place to travel to, and so we may give it a wide berth until the problems of the useless drunken violence perpetrated by the indigenes have been addressed. Sadly it is like all things, those who are at the centre of this problem are actually very few in the big picture but they tarnish the name and reputation for all those who are hard working, decent and wonderful citizens.

However I digress.

The bus driver had assured us that there were heaps of busses running the circuit, that he would be doing at least a couple more this afternoon and there were others to follow him. When we returned to the bus stop, we found that we had missed the last bus by five minutes or less and had another hour to wait. And it was raining. We walked on around the route we believed the bus would take, a kilometre or two, until we came to a stop with shelter and sat wrapped in our coats until the same driver reappeared, and took us back to Cronulla.

It was then we discovered the sea, the shopping centre full of surf and “cozzy” (togs) shops, and McDonalds where we indulged in icecreams because even though it was cold and wet, we were at the seaside.

From there we caught the train back following exactly the same route of the morning, arrived at camp to find the mail that Pauline had forwarded to us had arrived, and back to our little home on wheels where the washing was hanging limp and wet, waiting for us.

This evening I have ventured back into this online blog to post the last few days and was delighted to see that Olly has ben in here working on the hideous mess I had managed to make. My photos are still lost and will need to be reinserted; I shall do that in an idle moment! Thank goodness for clever sons! Thank you, Olly!