HARRINGTON - CROWDY HEAD (1-2 OCTOBER)

With Max safely retrieved from his stint 'in jail', where, true to form he had reportedly been 'Mr Socialize' within the first two days of arrival (and put on weight), Liz did give him a sneaky little walk around the Sawtell park before we hitched up and headed out for Harrington.  Although the black panther still carries on a shade when in his basket in the tug, we have found that a pre-embarkation walk tends to to the trick.  Providing the road over which we are travelling is not inordinately rough, Max tends now to nod off within five minutes of hitting the track (I suspect he has some inbuilt survival mechanism....he was on borrowed time for a couple of the initial days......I think I may have mentioned previously that we nick named him Ultra Tune at one stage...that 'annoying noise in the back'!) 

 

Our choice of Harrington as our destination for the next two days was something of an act of faith.  Descriptions of it we had read in a caravan magazine all struck a chord.  Co-incidentally, a hearty endorsement of our choice was provided by a chap to whom we had chatted casually a few days before we left Sawtell.  He is a regular visitor and was effusive about the place, if, that is, one is looking for a small, somewhat off beat fishing town with unusual and often quite spectacular sea and river views.  Just the shot, we thought.

 

And, for once, our expectations were more than met.  Harrington is a delight.  Like many of these small towns on the Australian east coast, the approach to the 'old' town takes one through significant new development areas, obviously populated extensively by retirees (and indeed advertised as catering for them) on to the original township area.  It was here that our chosen park was situated, right in the main street.  'Chosen' is perhaps the wrong word...given that this park is the only one of the three in the town which takes pets, it was not really a matter of choice.  But, as those football commentators habitually parrot, "Luck's a fortune".  Our locale was ideal.  The park itself was small, populated heavily by permanents, and by many who obviously spend some months here fishing, fishing and fishing.

 

We did a quick foot recce once we had settled in.  The old pilot station memorial stands proudly atop a prominent hill at the eastern end of the main street. 

 

 

A scramble up the steep, grassy slope to the top provided a real reward.   From here one can gain a real view and understanding of the treacherous bar entrance to the Manning River beside which Harrington was established.

 

 

This shot shows the enormous breakwall built to protect the main river channel looking south from the hill.  The wall continues below the crest of the hill as can been seen here, looking east to the sea.

 

 

 

Harrington is another town (like Cardwell and Coffs Harbour) for which the cedar timber industry played a significant part in its foundation.  Stands of this much sought after timber grew along the Manning River. Because the only economical and practical way to transport this heavy, bulky, and relatively low value (per unit weight) product, was by ship, Harrington was established as a port for this purpose.  Maize and other farm produce was also transhipped from Harrington, as was locally mined limestone.  But the founding fathers did not properly account for, or perhaps foolishly ignored, the shifting sands of the river mouth. 

Even to this day, despite the construction of the massive breakwall which is almost four kilometres in length, the sands at the river mouth shift so constantly that is has never been possible to place lateral channel markers or entrance lead lights as guides to mariners.  One decent storm has the potential to cause a sand movement of such proportions as to render the position of markers obsolete. 

 

This problem was of a sufficient magnitude to see the establishment of the pilot station at Harrington in the late 1800's and the construction of the breakwall.  Notwithstanding the magnificent job the pilots did in navigating vessels over the bar, there were an astounding number of shipwrecks at the bar,  on the breakwall and elsewhere along this stretch of coast (more of this later).  As transport by ship was superseded and the cedar industry fell into decline, the use of pilots was no longer necessary and the service was abandoned as was the use of relatively large vessels in this area.

The breakwall does remain a real boon for the town, however.  Apart from the tourist attraction provided by walks along it, it is renown as a fishing platform (not that I had the time....this time...to indulge)





The old area of Harrington is quite small.  The short main street, here seen from pilot hill, meanders along the bank of the river and plays host to a number of beach type cafes and a variety of shops which provide for the necessities of holiday life.

 

 

 

 

 

The local hotel, originally named the Brighton Hotel, is also located on the main drag,


 

 

 

 

 

  

 

as is the huge local bowling club (here shown looking across the river from the breakwall), which, to our surprise, also owns the caravan park in which we stayed (strangely enough immediately opposite)

 

As is the case with the bowls club, the pub also looks out across the river and breakwall.  The tidal flows in the river are significant with a resultant constant variation in the exposure of the river flats and sandbars.  This provides an ever changing and wonderful vista whilst dining or drinking in either establishment, both of which are set up to take full advantage of the views on offer.

For those looking for something different, the large residential development on the approach to the old town includes a golf club country club and a large Irish pub. Our only thought was, "Why would you?", but I guess the locals do appreciate a change of scenery from time to time.  And I have to say there are some very fine houses in this area of the township, most of which are sited along channel developments off the Manning, which is itself a very large waterway, extending as most of these eastern seaboard rivers do, well inland.

A mere ten minute drive north of Harrington we made another real discovery.  Crowdy Head.  A gem!  This small town supports a local fishing industry of some vigour but is also home to one of the finest beaches we have discovered on this part of the coast.  On the day of our visit a howling south-easter was buffeting most of the coast, but here in this southern corner of the Crowdy Head bay, the surf was serenity itself.









The gently shelving beach arcs northwards for kilometre after kilometre.  At low tide it is wide and very user friendly for 4x4 vehicles which are permitted access.

The size of the Surf Club, which is situated at the southern end of the beach, is testament to its popularity.  We were told it is standing room only during the Christmas holidays and we could see why.  This really is a postcard place.
 





On the headland itself stands one of Australia's most unusual lighthouses.  Built in 1878,

this James Barnett designed lighthouse is one of only five in the country.  The others are all situated on this part of the coast at Fingal Head, the Richmond and Clarence Rivers and at Tacking Point.  The Crowdy Head light was built to provide support for those mariners making for the port of Harrington. 

Apart from the obvious charm of this lighthouse design, the thing which struck me most whilst visiting the headland was the historical data displayed on a nearby information board.

On it we were told that in the twenty three years between 1873 and 1896, 419 ships came to grief along the nearby coast and on the Harrington bar. What an astounding statistic.  I suspect that some of these were very small fishing smacks and the like, but nevertheless, this is maritime carnage of the highest order and served to remind me what a very different world it was then and what challenges the settlement of  this land or ours presented.

As well as visiting Crowdy Head, we drove to nearby Old Bar, the next coastal town south of Harrington.  For some unknown reason I have always wanted to see what this town has to offer.  In fact, if it had not been for the fact that the Old Bar caravan park does not cater for pets, this would have been our destination rather than Harrington. 

All I can say is that there are times when the travelling gods do smile down on the faithful. We were singularly unimpressed by the rocky beach, nondescript town centre and the foreshore area in general.  In fact a number of signs we saw in the foreshore park area indicated that the behaviour of many who make this part of the world their social oyster leaves much to be desired.  Saved!

And finally, one for Hens.  We found and visited Croki......and loved it!  One day old mate!

As I am sure you have now gathered, Harrington for us was one of the finds of the trip.  Like Iluka, where the non-pet policy stymied a return visit this trip, Harrington is totally lacking in pretension.  It fully lives up to its reputation as a quiet fishing town with much to offer in itself and nearby in terms of scenery, fishing, walking, beach activities generally and history.

Add to this the fact that the caravan park was populated by universally friendly and welcoming folk and you will understand why we left Harrington with real regret and the vow to return for at least three weeks or so in the future.

Port Stephens awaited, as did the first, and hopefully last, period of drama with the tug (apart, that is, from the broken windscreen near Mount Isa....how many months ago was that??)