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

Some days are challenging and today was one of them, or at least the greater part of it. We slept well, I attended to a small pile of laundry and soon had the lunch packed up, a new batch of milk made up; just a normal kind of day thus far.

We had two days of exploration in store and I had asked Chris which he wanted for today to best fit with the cricket test viewing. He elected for the “bigger” day and so we headed off for Shellharbour, a little to the north up the Princes Highway.

Shellharbour is technically a southern beach suburb of Woolongong, but actually a city in its own right with 65,000 inhabitants. Back in the 1830s, Shellharbour was a thriving little port on the coast, backed by Lake Illawara which is effectively a great tidal estuary covering over thirty six square kilometres. In 1859, Shellharbour was established as a municipality, a collection of the villages of Shellharbour, Lake South, Oak Flats, Albion Park and Albion Park Rail, and stayed pretty much the same, surrounded by farmland, for many years. Development started in the 1950s and ‘60s and since then it has grown like topsy, proclaimed a city in 1996.

We should have started with the original “village” of Shellharbour, and then might have felt differently, however hindsight is a wonderful thing. Instead we foolishly made our way to the first of the Information Centre’s shown on the very poor free map we had, substantiated by TomTom’s direction. Instead we became lost in a construction site, part of the huge mess of a shopping centre undergoing expansion. So we headed for the second one on the map, again confirmed by TomTom. Maybe it did exist in that location fifty years ago? Certainly not now. And to be fair, none of the signs from the highway had shown the “I” sign. It would appear there is no Information Centre in Shellharbour. So there we were, without the tearoff detailed town map we count on when we arrive in a place, without clear direction of what we should see while there and without a clear understanding of the place at all.

We headed for Barrack Point, a rocky point jutting out into the Tasman surf, covered in lovely houses. From here we could see for some distance up the coast toward the industrial chimneys of Port Kembla and back to the Illawara escarpment; all rather hazy. We found our way up to the entrance of the lake and headed around its southern shore. There is a pleasant strip of green reserve all along the lake, or at least that part we travelled. We stopped at one point and stood on a small jetty over the shallows, deciding there must be a small tidal range given the seaweed and seagrass growing so close to the shore. Several coast guard types were busy at a nearby shed; we thought we had better not distract them from their endeavours with our silly questions.  

Soon we found our way back to the same shopping centre we had lost ourselves in before and picked up the weekend newspaper and a decadent sweet to supplement our lunch. All about were new developments, new houses. In fact I reckon that 90% of the dwellings in Shellharbour must be less than twenty years old. We thought it a particularly odd sort of place, without heart. The shopping centre was a maze of tight little turns between the many shops, all jammed on the side of a slope. Quite frankly, Shellharbour left us cold.

We decided to head for the Bass Point Reserve on the southern edge of this strange place, and in doing so passed through Shellharbour Village. Here we sensed a better ambiance, perhaps we should not have been so dismissive.

Out on Bass Point, we ate our lunch in shade while appreciating the views north, then set off for a short two and a half kilometres walk along the coastal path through the ever present banksias and casuarinas. It was very pleasant and there were quite a few locals who had arrived to enjoy the recreational area and fishing from the rocks. The walk was not very challenging and did little to consume the extra thousand calories but then food is a great comforter and we needed some of that.

And so that was Shellharbour for us. We returned to Kiama, stocked up with provisions at the excellent Woolworths supermarket here and came home to bring in the washing and check out progress on the cricket. Still anyone’s game at this stage.

Since arriving home a great big motorhome has lodged itself between us and our nearest neighbour. It would seem that the owners are here to catch up with their adult children who are also camped in the park. We have lost our privacy. It has been one of those days.

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.

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

Soon after dinner last night, the wind came up and we imagined that we would lie awake in bed later greatly bothered by the flapping of the awning. We do strap it down with a couple of flap restraints either side, however in a good wind there is nothing to keep a canvas awning still. We opened the blinds, turned on the low exterior lights and ventured out into the dark to lower our porch. While I was holding it steady as Chris released the catch, the fabric strap I was holding broke in my hand. No other damage was done, however we will now have fun and games to lower the awning next time. Hopefully I will be able to repair this with needle and thread, however this is not the kind of event you want at about 10 pm!

Although the wind had died down by the time we woke, the skies were dull and uninspiring. We quickly packed up camp and headed north yet again on the Princes Highway, this time a mere twenty five kilometres through to Kiama. It was a slow trip; construction on the bypass  has commenced and the existing road passes over several steep hills, some with no passing lanes, the bane of my husband’s life.

Arriving in Kiama by the sea, we made our way out to the headland beyond the town centre where both the famous blowhole, a lighthouse and the Visitors Centre are situated. We wrapped ourselves well for the blustery south easterly and walked the short distance to the viewing platforms. The sea was perfect for this particular blowhole (there is another a little south that apparently works better with the opposite wind conditions) and we were treated to the blast of the sea and great showers of sea foam.

After gathering a handfull of pamphlets at the centre, we made our way to this camping ground, selected after researching tariffs in the region on line and an exchange of emails. I was unable to find the street on our map so gave the problem over to TomTom who took us up and over a hill so steep that at one point we were stalled at an uphill intersection only able to pull away again by changing into low ratio. We were not amused, particularly when we found ourselves descending again and intersecting a road we could have accessed by an alternative route on a more gradual grade.

Belinda welcomed us in the office, and advised that the $30 tariff could be further reduced if we were Seniors or Pensioners. Chris’s Senior card brought the tarrif down to $25, and so for the time being, our delight erased our discontent with TomTom. We paid for two days and have pencilled a further two in, pending further planning.

Our happy state was, alas, only temporary, the site was difficult to manoevre into, particularly because of the short poles on which the water supply is attached. These are below sight level as one reverses and make for disgruntled landcruiser operators. Need I say more? However we were set up before lunch and Chris was soon enjoying the second cricket match between the Australians and South Africans; happiness restored.

After lunch we set off along the shore, above which we are camped, into town where Chris had a haircut and we purchased yet another frypan. I have yet to work out where this one will live. The path along the beach runs above the rocky shore, down to the surf beach and across behind the surf club then up through the two main streets which are lined with lovely old buildings and this afternoon, full of tourists and locals going about their business. The well manicured gardens are at their best with fragrant and healthy flowering plants.

Kiama is the first country town south of Sydney, although Berry makes the same claim, and is home to 12,000 folk. It is located on a very small harbour and in the 1880s, was the heart of the cedar, quarrying and shipping industry. The fine buildings remaining in the civic precinct include the Old Council Chambers, the pink Italianate Post Office and the oldest surviving building on the South Coast of New South Wales, the Kiama Court House, completed in 1861.

We were gone well over an hour, time for the team’s lunch to be over and the Australian’s batting score to be applaudable. I may suggest the earphones for Chris and start a new novel. There is still quite a bit of the afternoon left.

21 November 2012 - Berry Showgrounds, Shoalhaven, NSW

Nature's fusion

What a joy to wake to a fine day after all the poor weather we have had over the past week or so! I soon had the last of the laundry washed and on the line, blowing in the breeze and drying in the sunshine. Lunch packed, diesel topped up and we were off across the hills behind Berry toward Kangaroo Valley. This direct route across to Kangaroo Valley is steep, windy, sealed and beautiful and is forbidden to caravans and long vehicles. It is also the fastest route to the lookout on Mount Cambewarra, the summit at 678 metres ASL from where one has views stretching 145 kilometres according to the sign on the outside of the café. I would doubt that figure however, even with the mist over the sea, we could see down over Nowra, east to Shoalhaven Heads and all the fascinating maze of waterways south. There was also a kookaburra sitting in a tree fern immediately below us, which struck me as rather amusing. The bird is to quintessentially Australian and tree ferns (or pungas) are so quintessentially New Zealand. Quite a trans-Tasman  scene.  

After gazing with appreciation at this extensive panorama, we drove on to Kangaroo Valley Village, a charming settlement in the valley of the same name. The village has a population of just over 300 but exudes a charm and welcome to all who passby and suggests a population far greater. 

Hampton Bridge

Europeans first came upon the valley way back in 1812 when a surveyor-explorer by the name of George Evans described the view that “no painter could beautify”. While that is a slight exageration, it is indeed a lovely basin of fertile land which has offered a great supply of kangaroos to aboriginees through the ages, hence its name.

Within five years cattlemen arrived, followed by the cedar-getters. Within thirty years of European discovery, the land was cleared for dairy farming, endless rolling green pastureland still here today.

Police station at Kangaroo Valley

Apart from the old buildings still in use today, the town is particularly proud of the bridge across the river, taking traffic through from Nowra to Moss Vale and on to the Hume Highway. The Hampton Bridge is Australia’s last surviving wooden suspension bridge of the 19^th  century and one of the best known in New South Wales. The towers at each end of the bridge were hand carved from the local sandstone and resemble the turrets of a mediaeval castle. The bridge was completed in 1898.

We decided we would embark upon a decent walk in the Morton National Park, so headed westwards, more or less downriver to Lake Yarrunga. Here the Kangaroo River meets the Shoalhaven River, bith restrained by the forty three metre high Tallowa Dam.

The dam was finished in 1976 and is part of the Shoalhaven Water Supply Scheme. Some of the stored water is available to be transferred to Sydney and the Illawara. The lake is also popular with canoeists. While we sat in the picnic area eating our lunch, we watched a school group complete their canoe experience along with several individuals. The lake when full covers an area of 9.3 square kilometres and is surrounded by national park and high spectacular bluffs.

After lunch we drove back up above the lake and parked where the Three Views Trail begins. We chose the longest walk, 5.7 kilometres across the top of the escarpment to the edge of one of the cliffs from where we looked down to the lake, and the continuation of the Shoalhaven River, and vaste expanses of dense bush. The old fire trail passes through open woodland and sandstone heath vegetation and is graded as easy and virtually flat. And so it seemed until the return when the day had heated up considerably and it all seemed uphill albeit gradual. Only mad dogs and Englishmen walk in the noon day sun. I guess I must be the mad dog? 

We drove the twenty or so kilometres back to Kangaroo Valley Village, then headed north west, across the Hampden Bridge and on toward Moss Vale. After sixteen kilometres up Barrengarry Mountain, we arrived at the Fitzroy Falls. These were quite a surprise because they and all access and related tracks are via the National Park entrance where one must pay for the privelege of parking one’s car. I think I have already expressed our opinion about the avarice of the NSW National Parks Service? Enough said.  

 

The falls are very beautiful, falling eighty two metres to the floor of the ravine far below. The surrounding rock outcrops and cliffs are equally spectacular and worth the effort of subjecting yourself to the officialdom of NSW Parks. We could have walked to further points along the escarpment, up here at 640 metres ASL, more or less at the same elevation as the lookout on Mount Cambewarra, however I had had enough.

We explored the Fitzroy Falls Reservoir nearby which is also part of the water system referred to earlier. This reservoir covers an area of five square kilometres when full but unlike Lake Yarrunga, is available for recreational sailing and fishing only a few months of each year. Water from this lake enters a series of channels and passes through two small electricity generators. It is good to see water here in Australia being used for hydro-electricity. As a New Zealander, it seems such a normal way to meet the needs of consumers however the terrain here is, of course, so very different.

On our way back we called into the Manning Lookout from where we had fabulous views over the Kangaroo Valley. Here we fell into conversation with a couple from Ontario, Canada, who had driven up from Narooma to tour the area between here and there in the remaining part of the day. Narooma is south of Batemans Bay and I didn’t have the heart to tell them how many days we had spent exploring this coastal area. Like most tourists, compared to us, they are on a speed tour.

From here, we came on home. I was glad that there was no evidence of a Happy Hour tonight. I was tired and in need of a shower. It had been an excellent day and now we are ready to move on north in the morning. The weather report is looking good too.

20 November 2012 - Berry Showgrounds, Shoalhaven, NSW

Indecision, indecision! It rained on and off all night and as I lay awake at one stage of the very early morning, I decided we should just pack up and head on through to Wollingong and to hell with Kangaroo Valley, Kiama and everything thereabouts. However by the time breakfast was done, the day was looking a little more promising although Chris was confident we would still have showers. Kangaroo Valley was definitely off the agenda. We poured over our maps of the region, again for the umpteenth time, considering the possibility of doing long day trips from a base much further north. Neither of us had much appetite for sitting around Nowra any longer and so a compromise was reached. We would head on up the Princes Highway, call in to Berry and take it from there.

The beautiful trees of Berry

In fact Berry had been on the agenda as a base for some weeks. Showgrounds appeal to us with their down to earth ambience and generally very fair tariff. Finding a showground at Nowra had made Berry’s showgrounds redundant, so we thought. Berry is, after all, only fifteen kilometres from Nowra.

The expected showers never eventuated and we soon pulled into Berry, The Town of Trees as it is known, because of the extensive stands of  English oaks, elms and beech trees planted by settlers in the 1800s. Many remain today giving the town a distinctly English feel, or at least as much as any Australian town can have.

The town is just full of antique and craft shops, cafes and delicatessans, boutiques and speciality shops; a bit yuppy-like for our taste. We found a park up a side street, had a quick walk about the main street and then went in search of the showgrounds to see if they grabbed us. Well, obviously there did because here we are, well and truly set up.

I discovered that there was a rather large and smart washing machine tucked away in one of the cattle stalls and for $4 a load, I was most welcome to make us of it. I am not sure how it has happened, but it is about a fortnight since I did laundry. Needless to say, there were many bags stowed in all sorts of places. One large load was dispensed with this afternoon before we went for a long walk about the residential part of this charming town. We admired the beautiful gardens and the lovely old buildings, the partly developed retirement villages and the several small parks, before heading back to the showgrounds after an hour and a half’s exercise.

Here at the showgrounds, there are about half a dozen vans in, a friendly lot who have invited us over for Happy Hour. We will take our mugs of coffee across and stay just a short while. There is a high likelihood we will catch our little Matthew on Skype before he goes to bed to wish him a happy third birthday in person, so we shall make our excuses before long.

19 November 2012 - Nowra Showgrounds, Shoalhaven, NSW

I know that rain and wind are part of everyone’s life and I should not go on about it, however for us as we have traveled about Australia so far, there actually have been very few days where inclement weather has influenced our travel plans. However that has not been the case over the past week hence my fuss.

The plan for the day had been to travel up to Kangaroo Valley and all around that area, a full day’s outing, with a list of things to see and do, however this morning it was raining, again. We decided it was pointless to waste time and fuel to travel that far and perhaps see very little and enjoy it even less. A little part of me thought we might change our mind after lunch, however that didn’t happen either.

Instead we drove down into the CBD and wandered about, shopping a little, checking out the shops, window shopping more and enjoying being about the busy centre with others all decked out in raincoats as we were. We returned to camp, noting the fabulous show of flowering jacarandas through the streets and a brightening of the sky. However by the time the dishes were done, black clouds were gathering again and we decided against any futile road tours for the day.

The rocky overhangs of Ben's Walk

Instead we set off on Ben’s Walk, a lovely walk along part of the Shoalhaven River and the Nowra Creek, along under more fabulous rocky bluffs and through spotted gums, mangroves, lantana and wooly nightshade. The walk starts here at the showgrounds and is easier than that walked yesterday although it has many of the same features. There were birds aplenty and evidence of wombats in even greater numbers; diggings, burrows and droppings marking out their territories. We met a young couple who had just spotted one of these elusive creatures however by the time we arrived at the small bridge, he was gone. We spent about five minutes tiptoeing about searching without success.

The rain had held off for the hour or so we were gone, however after afternoon tea, the wind came up again threatening a repeat of yesterday’s storm. In the end it was just a squall of showery rain, enough to vindicate our decision to have stayed about Nowra for the day.

We are supposed to move on north tomorrow. Whether we will extend yet again in an attenpt to explore Kangaroo Valley or simply give it a miss can be decided over breakfast tomorrow. Checkout from here will be a little more relaxed than your regular camping ground.

18 November 2012 - Nowra Showgrounds, Shoalhaven, NSW

I peeked out the bathroom window early this morning and saw clear skies and sunshine, then went back to bed. Hardly the best action when every moment of good weather should be taken advantage of, but then it was Sunday, and Chris had sat up until some ungodly hour to watch the Wallabies play England. His eyes would no longer stay open after the first twenty minutes which was regretful because it turned out to be an excellent game and the Wallabies redeemed themselves and hopefully their New Zealand coach will not come in for as much rubbishing this coming week as he has of late.

When we did crawl out of bed, we decided on a bitsa day and started it with a wonderful walk in Bomaderry, just across the Shoalhaven River. The five and a half kilometre circuit walk through the Bomaderry Creek Regional Park, along each side of the creek of the same name passes through remnant rainforest, spotted gum forest and scrub, through, under and over great sandstone rocks; overhanging, pitted with shallow caves, in every shape and size. Great cliffs tower above the creek shielding the walker from the noise of the highway which is not far away at all. It is a stunning oasis of natural beauty in the middle of an otherwise ordinary urban area, and according to walkers we met along the way, not very well known of by the locals. This walk is really right up there with some of the loveliest we have done here in Australia.

The track notice stated it was a three hour walk; we were back at the cruiser in one and a half. We headed for the supermarket to buy some yummy sourdough rolls and relaxed over lunch, until the wind which had come up in the last hour became too much and we pulled the awning in and dismantled our outdoor living area. Great black clouds were gathering and we expected to be subjected to something like Brisbane received yesterday, however it all came to little.

Rested once again, we headed out on the road, across the river again and out to Shoalhaven Heads past Coolangatta, not to be mistaken for Coolangatta on the NSW / Queensland border near the Gold Coast. There is little at this Coolangatta aside from a winery and a new subdivision; we were through it before we arrived at that conclusion.

Shoalhaven Heads is not really the head of the Shoalhaven River at all because the river now takes a alternative course around past Greenwell Point. A narrow sandy strip blocks the old entrance and shelters the bay within the river. I imagine it would only take a wild storm in a king tide to breach the sandy barrier.

We stood for a couple of minutes on the surf beach, facing into the wind, watching half a dozen kite surfers and wind surfers weave back and forward through the wild choppy seas. Apart from them and us, there was noone else about. It was that kind of afternoon.

We drove back to Bomaderry, past the ethanol plant and the paper mill, checked out the shopping centre and the rail station which is at the end of the southern line. We then crossed the Princes Highway to North Nowra, checked the shopping centre there which is little more than a collection of suburban convenience stores, and drove down to the river near the Shoalhaven Zoo. Adjacent to this attraction is a large caravan park in the loveliest setting; the high cliffs carved by the river are visible from all points.

I was still feeling rather tired from the morning’s efforts so we decided to head back to camp, where Chris pulled the hot water heater apart and did the required maintenance successfully.

Later, as we sat down to dinner, a wild wind storm came up and blew for about half an hour, gusting at 80 kph. Great clouds of dust, leaves and sand blew across the top of the hill, stinging the caravan. Fortunately we had parked in such a manner that the wind parted each side of the van. However our neighbour's was side on into the wind and I watched and waited for the van to capsize. It did not, nor did any branches from the gum beside us break off. In fact, after it was past, there was little to show for the event at all.I was just glad we had taken the awning in earier or we would have lost it and the outdoor furniture over the cliff edge. A few moments of excitement we could have done without.

We extended our stay this morning for a couple more days, calling in to the Information Centre before going for our walk. Although these showgrounds are in a lovely spot, we would not recommend them as a camp because the toilets are not always open, there are no showers (although that does not matter to us) and the whole place is so very public and so very well used by every man and his dog, literally. However we have not finished with the Shoalhaven area and it does make sense to stay on here until we have. And the tariff is cheaper than anything else about.