23 November 2012 - Surf Beach Holiday Park, Illawarra, NSW

Last night the waves crashing onto the rocks below the park were the last thing I heard before falling into a very restful sleep, and this morning I woke to a more gentle sound; the wind had changed. The bleak overcast skies of yesterday had also been replaced by patches of blue and the promise of summer-like weather.

We headed off out of camp, topped up yet again with diesel and headed westward up Saddleback Mountain to the lookout. This is shown on the map we are using of the area but not listed on the must-dos. The road  which loops around through this lovely dairying area is steep enough, however that up to the lookout is not suitable for buses, caravans, trucks or much more than a car (or 4WD). We crept up at snail pace and were duly rewarded with lovely views back toward the densely forested coastal escarpment and out toward the coast from Wollongong down to Shoalhaven Heads. A couple in a rental campervan had heeded the warnings and were huffing and puffing up on foot as we drove back down; obviously foreign and taking care to avoid strife in a foreign land.

The road twists and turns and descends to Jambaroo, a charming settlement of 942 rural folk servicing the immediate area. As we approached the centre, I was reminded of Kangaroo Valley Village visited a couple of days ago, however it was there the resemblance ended. We drove through slowly and nothing in partiucular enticed us to stop. We  turned just north of the village and wound our way up the escarpment on the Jambaroo Mountain Road, again forbidden to vehicles over twelve metres or over twelve tonnes. According to my chauffeur, this sealed road is “ridiculously steep”; I could not agree more.

At the top we pulled into the Barren Grounds Nature Reserve, a hanging swamp plateau covered mainly in heathlands. Most of this plateau is bounded by sheer cliffs of Hawkesbury sandstone up to seventy metres high that fall away to rainforest and lush farmland, whence we had just come.

We set off on an hour long walk to the Illawarra Lookout point, an easy stroll of two kilometres across a service track. Here we enjoyed views much like those from the Saddleback Mountain and, here too, the low cloud smudged the view. I considered it pointless to bother with the camera. We were however quite grateful for the cloud cover; it made walking under the open sky much more bearable.

The wild flowers were even more plentiful than those seen on walks taken over the past couple of weeks; dozens and dozens of colourful jewels shining from the woodland and scrub. Butterflies fluttered along beside us; white ones not too unlike the dreaded cabbage eaters, colourful traveller butterflies and chocolate brown ones with bright orange spots on their wings, such as we had seen the other day. A couple of potoroos sprang out from the bushes, startling us before bounding back into the undergrowth. Crimson rosellas, eastern whipbirds and a variety of birds whose call was not familiar, surrounded us.

We decided to press on for a couple more kilometres, up to the Saddleback Trig, at 665 metres ASL. The track was not as flat as that to the lookout, and even less flat on the return, as so often the case. Further away from the carpark we passed through wet areas, expanses of bare rock and more of the beautiful heathlands.

Back at the beginning of the track, we sat in a shelter and ate our lunch, watched by a large currowong. He arrived suddenly, swooping down to the bench opposite, startling me greatly, however he was courteous enough to sit quietly until Chris had dispensed with a couple of crumbs from his breadroll. Then he simply sat on a post nearby and waited until we left. They are such proud strong looking birds and I would not like to be attacked by one. I suspect I would come off rather badly.

As we arrived back at the carpark, we encountered the same couple who had walked up to the Saddleback lookout, and at first I wondered where their vehicle was. Again adhering strictly to all signs, they had parked a kilometre or so down the access road where a sign said “carpark”. At this rate they should return to Europe fitter than expected.

Carrington Falls

We continued on toward Robertson, soon adjacent  to the Budderoo National Park, much of the forest charred from a fire not too long ago. We turned into a healthier part of the forest and drove through to the Carrington Falls, where the Kangaroo River drops fifty metres down into the valley. From the various lookouts it is hard to actually see the base of these spectacular falls. All about the cliffs are perpendicular and equally impressive. We wandered along the banks of the river at the top of the falls, quiet puddles over a series of rocky craters, a place surely appealing on a warmer summer day. I often marvel at the contrast of a slow quiet stream falling in such dramatic circumstances. Dozens of minute tadpoles swam in the pools, oblivious to the fact they were in danger of plunging to a very different world.  

Chris would have been happy to puddle around at the top of the falls for some time, however I was tired and ready to head home. Perhaps he was too and just pretending he wasn’t desperate to return to find out how the cricket test was proceeding? Either way, we came on the thirty kilometres home without further ado.

We have paid for the two extra days so are now bound to spending a further three nights here. It is good to have some certainty in life.