18 July 2012 - Harbour City Holiday Park, Coffs Harbour, NSW

There are some days that start and end well and others that make for interesting times, and today was such a day. There had been showers during the night and Chris was concerned about the effect of rain on our ability to break camp without drama. He had mentioned his concern to Farmer Bill yesterday afternoon when he called by and was assured that we would have as much help as required. He also told Bill that we would delay our departure until the grass was dry to ease the process and limit any damage to the ground.

We were still lying in bed when I heard a vehicle outside, however when I jumped up and peered out the open door, saw no one. It was Bill who had come to tell us that he had to have his ute at the garage for a service by 9 am and so we would need to rattle our dags if we were to take advantage of any help. I had envisaged a tractor rather than his ute which looked no more powerful than our own vehicle, and as to personal manpower? This very elderly man is gnarled and bent with work and age, and while the spirit is obviously willing,  the flesh looks rather weak.

Needless to say we rushed our breakfast sacrificing coffee for later, and quickly battened everything down for travel. We then backed the cruiser up to the tow bar and found the extension mechanism in the jockey wheel had jammed, so we then blocked it up on the plastic Fiamma doorstep which I thought rather dodgy however Chris was confident the structure could hold the two and a half ton if it collapsed.

By this time, Bill had returned and was parked above us further up the hill, poised to intervene. Needless to say, this fact was rather disconcerting. Finally Chris managed to raise the tow bar on to the tow ball and we were ready to dislodge the chocks that had kept the caravan from running off backwards down the hill. Alas, every one of them had sunk down into the soft earth and I could not budge them even with hammer in hand. And all the while, the clock was clicking on and Bill was no doubt becoming edgy behind his wheel.

Chris now hopped out of the crusier, leaving the engine running and attempted to prove himself more capable than I, without success. In the end, he simply reversed over the yellow plastic Fiamma chocks, damaging the cracked one further and rendering the other equally useless. I dug them out of the ground and, with the wheel locked in 4WD, Chris slowly moved forward pulling the caravan up the wet soft ground to the top of the hill.

Bill came over and introduced himself to me shaking my hand, asking where we were heading once out the gate. He started to suggest an alternative route, however I cut him off telling him we were heading for Coffs Harbour to pick up mail. He shrugged and said that we would probably not forget this camp in a hurry, to which I agreed. It was rude of me to be so short however I was by this time on the verge of tears, not acceptable for a post-menopausal woman. (Hormones are no longer an excuse.)

The Crystal Falls

Neither of us was happy and neither of us spoke for some time. We made our way to the Dorrigal National Park, and set off on the walk we had talked about last night; to the Crystal Falls. The walk is advertised as taking an hour and a quarter and as having a very steep return. It took us a lot less time and the return was steep however the therapy of the forest and all that entailed, soon restored normality. And after all the drama, it was really all self-inflicted. It was us who had asked Farmer Bill for help and it was all because of this that we had found ourselves in such a stressful situation. Had we been left to our own devises, we would have still had problems with the jockey wheel but all of the other problems would have been dealt with in a more measured fashion.

The park in the earlier part of the morning was even more wonderful than we had found it two days before. The birds were in full throat, the brush turkeys fussing about criss-crossing the path getting about their business. The tall towering trunks of the yellow carabeen, red cedar, coachwood, sassafras, crabapple and rosewood, many with impressive buttress roots, the walking stick palms, the giant stinging trees, the tree ferns; all pressed in, reinforcing the awesome wonder of the rainforest. At the bottom of the hill we suddenly arrived on a very impressive and relatively new swing bridge from which we looked across at the falls, so very pretty. It was all indeed tonic to the bad start to the day.

We wound our way down the escarpment then followed the Bellinger River down to Bellengen (pronounced Bellen-jin) and parked, this time determined to explore this very attractive village. It is interesting that all the pictures in the promotional brochures show musicians and artists in very colourful almost-hippy attire and this indeed sets the scene for one’s impressions of the town. There are small shops full of colourful giftware, shops full of bakery goods, shops with descriptions such as mercers, haberdashers, and all the olde worlde names. We walked up one side of the main street and then down the other, pausing for small sundry purchases, then returned to the caravan to have lunch.

Bellingen was settled in the 1840s by timber getters, and first known as Boat Harbour. Vessels plied their trade up the river to here right through to the 1940s when dredging was discontinued. The town was the most important town in the area until Coffs Harbour started to boom with tourism in the 1960s.

The well-known cricketer, Adam Gilchrist, was born here in 1971; the inscription on his bronze bust in the council square says that he was the best Australian one day cricketer, Chris reckons the world’s best. Apart from this fame, Bellingen is the location of an annual jazz festival every August, currently being advertised on the television. I imagine this would be a lot of fun to attend and such a lovely location. Hopefully the showgrounds will be dry by then and other caravanners, if not us, can stay there and enjoy the festival.

It was only about thirty kilometres through to Coffs Harbour, back out to the Pacific Highway and north on the busy road. We came directly to this camp, selected because it is a CMCA Friendly camp and as such, offers a discount to club members. We are well satisfied with our choice but were not delighted with the rain that started as we pulled into the camp.

Once set up, we drove into the centre of the town, found the post office but no mail. Hopefully this will not be a repeat of the fiasco endured last year when we were messing about with our vehicle registration. We wandered about the shops and came upon a barber advertising cuts for as low as $6. Chris was drawn in and spent some time in the chair while a young hairdresser snipped away with her scissors. Finally she stepped back to admire her handiwork and ask Chris if he was satisfied. He was not; it was not short enough, so she started all over again, this time with the electric razor. Eventually we left having paid $15, a very acceptable price even if somewhat more than advertised. Chris was satisfied with the cut, however I suspect the hairdresser was spitting sparks at having had to do the job twice.

We returned to camp before the heavy rain set in. The frustrating day was turned on its head when we received a Skype call from Larissa and caught up on all her family news. Unlike the last week, we currently have excellent internet reception and will hopefully manage to catch up with the other kids while we are here.