Our site in the Dural caravan park was the tightest we had yet to experience on our trip. We have discovered that many caravan parks which were built years ago were designed to accommodate much smaller vans than is now the norm with the consequence that rigs of our size can present a problem, even when we are assigned "our biggest site". In fact, when booking, we now make very sure that we let folk know that we are 29 feet overall. And therein lies another interesting little quirk of this business....the vast majority of caravan and park owners still talk in feet rather than metres. But we also know we are 8.8 metres just in case.
The Dural park was a classic example of the problem presented by old park design. Fortunately our neighbour, who had been there for four months, had become quite used to having to shift her car to allow egress to those next to her. Even so, just as with getting onto the site, things were a little tricky, but we were soon on our way. Mind you, I did feel a little under pressure. This same lass had commented to Liz the previous afternoon that she couldn't believe we got onto the site in one movement...nothing like a precedent!
Like most cities, Sydney's Sunday traffic is a vastly more manageable proposition than during the week. This, combined with the use of the M2, M5 and M7 respectively, made our journey to Picton one of comparative ease.
As I have mentioned before, even the injustice (in our view) of having to pay a 'heavy vehicle' toll fades into insignificance when balanced against the benefits of motorway travel around the outskirts of a metropolis like Sydney. The concept of having to tow through the centre of town is the stuff of travelling nightmares.
Picton is a delight. Whist we did not have the opportunity to take any photos, I could best describe it as a small hills town very similar in many respects to places like Stirling and Aldgate in the Adelaide Hills. Historic buildings stand side by side with modern amenities. The provision of goods and services is surprisingly broad. I was surprised, I must admit, to find a largish building on which equally large advertising invited patrons to have their skin decorated with tattoos and other oddments. This seemed more than a little incongruous in a town like Picton.
All become clear later when I discovered that the historic King George 4th pub, directly opposite, is the regular weekend watering hole of many of Sydney's biker community. Indeed, on this particular Sunday, the (very good) group playing on the pub's front porch had attracted a considerable patronage of a clearly biker persuasion, the bared arms of many testament to the skill of those working opposite. Despite the antecedents of many who frequent this pub on the weekend, trouble is apparently infrequent. When a pub has Coopers stout on tap and caters to the inner man with Villis pies, peace is assured!
Sue and Pete Tansell's 'house on the hill' in a vineyard estate just out of Picton is picturesque to say the least. What a lovely place to overnight particularly when the driveway is of sufficient size to accommodate the van without the need to unhitch.
And don't be fooled as to the size of the Tansell mansion from this view. Looking up from the back lawn provides a much more realistic perspective.
The outlook from the balcony is equally impressive. Hills living at its best, and
despite the distance from Sydney, the freeway and motorway systems mean that a drive to the city centre can be achieved in an hour, and in much greater comfort that those who commute over the same time from many outer city suburbs.
We did enjoy catching up with the Tansells who just happened to be babysitting two grandchildren whilst one of their daughters and her husband made a day of it at the Bathurst motor races. Our pre-departure breakfast on the balcony was a real family affair.
From Picton we made our way down Picton Road, over the escarpment of the Great Dividing range to join the Pacific Highway near Woolongong. We had reached the Illawarra district, which, apart from Woolongong includes the major towns of Kiama and Nowra. Gerringong, our destination for the next week, is a town of some 3,500 souls which lies some 10 kms south of Kiama. Like most in this area, it is 'billygoat' country. In fact, a level driveway in Gerringong is a real find. But, of course, the upside of this is the fact that many of Gerringong's houses command wonderful views over the spectacular Werri Beach and its headlands, or, to the west, the green and rugged face of the nearby ranges. But more of that later.
Our main purpose in visiting Gerringong was, of course, to spend some time with number two son Stu, who, for those not entirely familiar with my family, is a navy Seahawk helicopter pilot, currently based at HMAS Albatross in nearby Nowra. Stu lives in Gerringong, quite close to the Werri Beach caravan park which we made our home for the week.
We had also arranged to catch up with our old and dear friends the Banninks during this week. To our delight we were unexpectedly joined by Chris and Dick Hodder. Dick is another of the group of Qantas pilots which whom I have been friends since 1974. Party time! Our single van soon became a real campsite.
Another wonderful surprise was in store. As Stu pulled into the park to join us for tea shortly after our arrival, we saw that his charming girlfriend of some years, Briony, was with him. How unlike Stu to have failed to let us know beforehand that she was staying with him and that there would be one more at the table! As we all later agreed, Stu may be a brilliant pilot, but he really does need a social secretary. I wonder where he gets that from?
Fortunately our freezers were bulging at this stage. One more to feed was not a problem. The red Bri brought was a treat with our beef in red wine stew.
And the festivities continued the following day with the arrival of the Banninks. After Hens and I engaged in a strenuous planning meeting
it was off to the camp kitchen where we cooked up a collective storm.
I had been planning for some time to use the Spanish mackerel backbone pieces we had been carrying with us since Kurrimine Beach as an entree to a meal. Perfect opportunity. Never having done these before, I was a touch nervous about the praises I had heaped on this fish. I am pleased to report they were delicious...everyone had a great time picking the meat off the bones which left me free to occupy the BBQ plate cooking the main meal. (that's Dick with Bri and Stu)
As you may imagine, we did have a big night. Stu had arranged a late start the following day which was probably just as well...he doesn't let his hair down too often, but when he does.....!
We were all still reasonably tidy at this stage (Troy, Hens, Hens' brother John, Stu and Bri and the camp clown in the background...Chris and Dick had wisely gone off to bed) but I must confess things went radically down hill when we repaired to the Bannink van for coffee, which would have been fine in itself but I should have remembered that Hens carries an extraordinary selection of liqueurs. I mean, what reasonable person could possibly refuse the offer of a Drambuie with the brewed coffee? Or a second? Needless to say our end of the park was not leaping about at dawn the next day! The girls keep trying to impress on us that we are not the men we used to be....but one has to make the effort!
And just to complete the social whirl, we all toddled off later the following day to nearby Shellharbour where the Tansells were in camp in their van with a group of their friends. At the Oceanview Hotel where we had dinner, I came across the best trick I have ever found in a pub. During happy hour, the prices of drinks are not reduced. Rather, for all beers on tap which are ordered, one has the opportunity to toss a die with a call of odds or evens. A correct call sees the drinks provided free! Much better than winning a hand at poker. Our luck held through our three pre-dinner rounds. Best beer I have ever drunk.
We finally farewelled our friends and settled down to our last couple of days in Gerringong. But not before we had all endured the worst weather Liz and I had experienced since taking to the road. Thank goodness we had been forewarned by both the usual weather services, and, with more precise and expert predictions, the HMAS Albatross met men. Annexes and awnings were all taken in and we hunkered down in the camp kitchen. At 1830 hours it hit us. We have never seen rain like it. I am not sure how much dumped on Gerringong, but this same system drenched Ulladulla, some 80 kms south, with over 220 mils in less than six hours. If ever we were looking to confirm that the van is well and truly waterproof, this was the acid test. We passed with flying colours. But more was to come. By about 0500 hours the following morning the winds hit us. Never had we been more pleased to now be living in a solid van rather than a pop top. Forty knots gusting to sixty battered the camp for the next two hours before abating to a mere twenty which lasted for the rest of the morning. Fortunately the severe low pressure system which had brought this misery moved off shore very rapidly. The following day dawned warm and clear. As they say, what a difference a day makes. It was interesting to look around the park.....everyone was drying out and cleaning up.
Luckily, this same day was that on which Stu had invited me out to the base to look over 816 Squadron, his new home.
I was a real thrill to finally get to see where the young Lieutenant struts his stuff.
Mind you, it is not all thrills and spills. There is always the paperwork to be done.
But then there is the real thing! Stu is currently flying the Sikorsky S-70B-2 Seahawk, a navy specific modified version of the Army's Blackhawk. What a machine. Its primary role is anti-submarine warfare but search and rescue and ship to ship and ship to shore transfers also fall within its role. And I finally got to have a really good look at one!
I'll not bore you with all the details. Suffice it to say that for an old stager like me who has been in and out of choppers of various sorts for the past thirty five years, this was a real highlight. And how nice it was, when chatting to Commander Grant O'Loughlan, Stu's CO, to be told that he is a real asset to the Squadron. Navy chiefs are not known for false praise.
Back to Gerringong itself. The whole Illawarra area, which stretches along the east coast from Woolongong in the north to well past Jarvis Bay in the south, is a real picture. High mountain crests, green and wooded hills and valleys, rocky coastal headlands, rivers and creeks and sweeping white surf beaches, all complement each other to produce a scenic delight.
For us Geringong is a jewel in the area crown. Mind you, as I mentioned previously, any walk around the town is not for the fainthearted. The penalty paid for the magnificent views on offer in many areas of the town is the need to traverse the many hills on which the town is built. (this shot does not really do the slope of this road justice...it is steep)
For many, the main attraction of the town is Werri Beach. In summer, the caravan park, which has more on-site vans than we have ever seen anywhere else (over 200 of them!), is bedlam by all accounts. As can be seen from this shot, the park is a mere hop step and jump from the beach.
Indisputably scenic as it is, Werri Beach was, for me, somewhat one dimensional. There is no doubt as to its attraction for surfers, but the steeply shelving nature of the beach itself, many rips and side sweeps in the surf which challenge all but the more competent swimmers, coupled with the fact that beach fishing is unrewarding, all serve to render Werri less than broadly user friendly.
The southern end of Werri Beach does provide a rock pool for those for whom the surf holds limited attraction
and a climb up the headland shows just how many of the houses in this part of Gerringong allow their occupants wonderful views over the beach and the Pacific beyond.
The top of the headland itself is given over to the local cemetery, as was often the case in towns settled at the time of Gerringong. Imagine what this real estate would be worth today with its views south over the small boat harbour.
Turning west from here, one looks down the eastern end of Belinda Street with its magnificent rows of pines
As mentioned previously, we both love Gerringong and this part of the world generally, although our busy social calender did not allow for much local sightseeing on this trip apart from a quick look at Crookhaven Heads to the south. Thanks Stu.
Now for those wondering about the adventures of the ship's cat and his impressions of Gerringong and the Werri Beach caravan park, let the pictures tell the story.
Max leave us in no doubt when he wants to attack the world at large. He sits in the stair well and howls until he gets his way.
towards the intersection with Fern Street, the main drag.
Like the rest of Gerringong, the main street climbs
and falls along its row of quite varied shops.
As mentioned previously, we both love Gerringong and this part of the world generally, although our busy social calender did not allow for much local sightseeing on this trip apart from a quick look at Crookhaven Heads to the south. Thanks Stu.
Now for those wondering about the adventures of the ship's cat and his impressions of Gerringong and the Werri Beach caravan park, let the pictures tell the story.
Max leave us in no doubt when he wants to attack the world at large. He sits in the stair well and howls until he gets his way.
There was little doubt that Max was quite at home at Werri Beach. He patrolled all over the park, on very rare occasions at the end of his lead held by your correspondent (there are just some things a man really shouldn't be seen doing!)
He spent hours lying in wait for the myriad of small lizards which made their home under the deck at the rear of our van. They would pop out to sunbake throughout the day, and, much to the chagrin of the black panther, could retreat at twice the speed he could pounce. Lizards 30 +, Max 0. But then there were always trees to climb.
As you may have gathered, Gerringong was a highlight of our trip. Marvellous surrounds, family and friends and, apart from the blow, delightful weather. Even the storm was an adventure of sorts, a weather event to be worn as a badge of honour at subsequent happy hours!
And now the serious travelling starts. Gundagai, Hay, Robinvale (from where this blog is coming), Berri, Tanunda and West Beach. Our previous plans to take the van to Port Clinton for its 10,000 kms service (yes, we have travelled that far) en route to Adelaide have been altered for a number of reasons. I shall complete the tale of our return trip once we have established ourselves at home. Things are a touch too demanding during a series of one night stops to allow the time to blog.
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