1 November 2012 - Bodalla Forest Park Rest Area, Princes Highway, NSW

As I start this, the sun has come out for the first time all day however we are well screened from that and the roadway by the tall gums all about. I do enjoy the fact that we can find a pleasant free camping spot for the night, but must confess to also appreciating endless electricity, which is only available when we are paying for a space in a commercial park. I am after all a modern person in a modern society just occasionally pretending to be a savage.

We were gone from Bega by 9.30 this morning, heading back north up the highway up and over steep hills, through lush farmland and great areas of State Forest and National Park. This all makes for lovely touring although Chris would prefer there were more passing lanes; he is one of those very considerate drivers who would, by preference, never hold anyone up on the road behind.

Roses in Cobargo

It had been our intention to stop in at Cobargo on the way back and so we did. This delightful village with its century old buildings can only be described as quaint. There are many gallery cum gift shops along with the normal newsagent, pharmacy, post office and supermarket. The latter is now a co-op owned by the residents who appear on our very brief visit to be slightly upmarket versions of those who inhabit Nimbin. We walked up and down the main street, “up and down” being the operative phrase because the street or main highway passes straight up the hill in good old Australian fashion, away from the river. I was delighted to see masses of glorious roses in full bloom all though the townscape; obviously the climate suits them well. We contributed nothing to the economy of the village although might have done so had we a house to show off the purchase of some wonderful ironwork sculpture by an artist named John Gosch. This was on display at a store along with the work of several other artists, all of whom take turns to man the outlet. Worth a look for sure.

Our next port of call would have been Central Tilba, a heritage listed village just one kilometre inland from the main highway. We turned west at the turnoff, passed through the tiny but pretty settlement of Tilba Tilba set on the lower slopes of Mt Dromedary and pressed on a couple of kilometres following a great tour bus along the winding road, suddenly arriving at Central Tilba. The bus driver had obviously been there before; he turned sharply into a pub car park and left us looking for somewhere to park ourselves. We spotted a sign for caravan parking and turned down into the area but it was already full of cars and one other rig; no room for us. The streets appeared narrow, busy and uninviting for the likes of our setup so we had no option but to carry on back to the highway. There is a cheese factory still making its wares in the time honoured manner, and craft shops aplenty, and probably just as many cafes to cater for the tourists who pour into the place and are lucky enough to find somewhere to park. Perhaps this observation is unfair, perhaps there is a great wide area we could have parked, however the directions were so poor we were unable to find any such place. And this is all probably our loss more than Central Tilba’s because as you will have surely realised by now, we are not very loose with our money.

So instead we travelled on just a few more kilometres and turned off this time toward the sea and down to Mystery Bay. We wanted to check out a camp advertised in Camps 6 with a view to possibly parking up and staying through. We had no difficulty finding the camp and it is indeed quite pretty, set back from the beach in a forest of trees, however we were unwilling to pay the $15 for no power when we did not have to. The fee is a site fee rather than a per person tariff and so would be greatly attractive to say, a tenting family.

We drove on down to the beach, parked and dined with views of the waves crashing onto the rocky shoreline. The “mystery” of the place is that five chaps simply vanished from a boat back in 1880; the boat holed from inside rather than out and no bodies to be found; it must have been a UFO.

Mystery Bay

After lunch we walked up to a lookout over the cliff edge and from there watched a great pod of whales, perhaps fifty or even a hundred, making their way down the coast, flippers, tails, spume, curved backs, all on show. What a joy to behold!

Our excitement was shared by a couple from Melbourne who were out for a tikki tour, originally immigrants from England. Alan regaled us for almost an hour with stories from his life reaching right back to his primary school years and facts about his years in the pottery industry. Boring is a word that comes to mind in many cases such as these, however he managed to both educate and entertain us, all the while as I watched the antics of the passing whales.

Finally I announced I was becoming cold in the sea breeze and drew an end to our meeting. And so we retreated to our respective vehicles and went on our way. We travelled on to Narooma, a seaside settlement with 8,500 people, where fishing and whale watching are the main tourist activities. The township is spread out over many little hills and gullies and while I had suggested we drive out to the heads of the inlet, I withdrew my request once I saw the terrain. I could well imagine Chris’s disgust as we laboured up to the top of a lookout track with little space to turn. Sometimes it just is not worth it.

We did pop into the Information Centre and picked up a few brochures about this area, the Eurobodalla Region, and I will endeavour to digest these this afternoon while there is still daylight.

On arrival we were met by the one other camper here at the time; a chap in a Toyota Hiace van armed with a spade. He asked if we were self-contained because the toilets were out of action. We assured him we were and he waved his spade and assured us the same.

Once set up, we checked out the forest walk leading from the car park here, and soon found ourselves on the two kilometre path down to Lake Mummuga and along its northern shoreline, passing through a forest of sheoaks, gums and an assortment of regrowth. I was delighted to find clematis in flower, its small white blooms at eye level rather than high in the canopy as you would see in New Zealand. Strangely the birds were all silent, if at all present; perhaps that is because the road noise is quite pervasive. On returning to the campsite we noted another caravan rig was just backing in to a posse. There will be at least three parties here tonight.

As I finish this, more sunshine has managed to fill the forest floor so perhaps just some of it is making its way to the solar panels and I can afford to be a little more frivolous with my power usage?