Time for thermals, beanies and jackets

(11-12 June 2010)

It was time to move on from Yuraygir NP, and based upon a recommendation from Bjorn and Katrine (a Danish couple nearing the end of their round Oz trip*), we head towards Mt Warning, deviating from the coast and away from the Pacific Hwy, into the mountains above the Tweed River.

Along the way, we lunch in Lismore and go for a walk – Zak is curious by the stairs leading to an ‘adult shop’ asking if we could go up the stairs. Coincidently, he was telling us about his dream earlier at breakfast (really a made-up story) about Lightning Macqueen and Chick Hicks being naked – we didn’t quite comprehend what cars were doing naked, yet he obsessed on nakedness as a key theme in his story.

We dart through Nimbin, where it seems there is a universal dress code of hippyness – strange, as I thought it was more about attitude . . . oh well.

Our first night at Mt Warning was freezing – maybe not down to zero, but damn cold just the same. We all wore thermals to bed and rugged up the best we could. A quick trip after sun down to the amenities meant donning beanies and jackets. This only makes us look forward to reaching the warmer climes asap. Also, we should just maybe avoid the mountains for now!

In the Wollumbin NP, we do the short Lyrebird track walk in the rainforest, located near the start of the track to the summit to Mt Warning – a more strenuous and longer trek for when the tribe are older perhaps. On our walk, we venture through towering trees and bangalows or piccabeens palms, with the hope of spotting either (or both) a lyrebird and a brush turkey. Although we luck out with the fauna in the rainforest, we actually have a brush turkey strut across our path on return to our campsite!

A spate of tartan and kangaroos for breakfast

(8-10 June 2010)

Driving into Maclean around noon on Tuesday, we refuel and finally reach Yuraygir NP (near Brooms Head), finding ourselves a nice campsite. Here we stay for three nights, with the beach behind us and grasslands and Lake Arragan before us. After lunch, I take the tribe for a walk on the beach where they spend time drawing pictures in the sand and playing ‘chicken’ with the waves.

The tribe is fascinated by the night sky filled with what seems to be more stars than we usually see from Springwood. The boys even have camping chairs depicting the constellations which M and I attempt rather poorly in identifying their equivalent in the sky – however we will have time to improve on our knowledge.

Each day, we are joined by kangaroos breakfasting and dining around our campsite – there’s a great big male with some females and juniors, plus at least one joey in a pouch. Also, there is the lively birdlife – such is the cacophony each morning – those we managed to identify include: superb blue wren, grey butcherbird, wattle bird, plover, willie wagtail, king parrot, plus of course the sea gulls on the beach. I even spotted a Brahmin Kite with a freshly caught fish in its talons.

On Thursday, we venture into Maclean for a seafood lunch and some provisions. Maclean wears its Scottish heritage proudly on its telegraph poles a many are adorned with various family tartans making for a colourful streetscape through town. Also, we buy some mince (for spaghetti) from an old school butcher – a sparse display of just the basic cuts and a large electric bone saw taking pride of place behind the counter.

Falling asleep between the trucks

We left Springwood in the early afternoon, with the rain on its way. Joining the typically heavy Friday* afternoon traffic heading north on the F3, we were dealt with some heavy rain as well. However the rain provided some spectacular features by way of countless cascades down the cuttings along the descent towards and ascent away from the Brooklyn Bridge. This was the highlight of our outbound drive, apart from giving the tribe their first experience of a Happy Meal from McDs – which they all enjoyed (as a very special treat mind you).

Due to the rain and the darkness, we succumbed to checking into a cabin at the Pacific Palms Holiday Park in Raymond Terrace. This proved to be a good thing in the end as our Eagle (camper-trailer) somehow had a leak – and setting up camp in the rain and dark was not the way we wished to begin our Big Trip! (yeah we’re a bit soft).

Saturday morning welcomed us without the rain and some blue sky – this was more like it. Our first major destination is to visit and stay with Kate, Giles, Jordan, Mardae and Bitz, who live on the Sunshine Coast, so the plan is to generally drive up the Pacific Hwy.

After stopping in Taree for lunch and provisions, we made it past Port Macquarie before deciding we needed to stop for the night, which we did at Stoney Park, a few kms north of Port. Here we stayed two nights to reassess our packing and begin to reacquaint ourselves with the Eagle and camping life, plus let the tribe run around rather be cooped up in the car. The place had a small playground and a huge trampoline which were both well used by the tribe. Also kangaroos came by the campsite for their morning feed which amused the tribe.

Based on the suggestion from Kate and Giles, our next stop was to be Yuraygir NP near Brooms Head. Unfortunately, thanks to our short daylight hours, we don’t seem to be able to drive far enough so had to make do with a rest area beside the Pacific Hwy just south of Grafton.

‘We’ll have to fall asleep between the trucks’, M said – as the rumble of another semi or 18-wheeler vibrated the Eagle. The trucks provided the serenade to which the tribe had no trouble sleeping – just the usual bickering of who was touching whom as they settled into sharing their space in the queen bed. M and I, on the other hand initially struggled with the trucks thundering past as we had made ourselves more conscious of the noise, although, of course, eventually tiredness overcomes anything.


(* Friday 4 June)

Yarrangobilly Caves

Another beautiful day with clear blue skies and the tribe is looking forward to visiting the Yarrangobilly Caves. The caves are situated off the Snowy Mountains Hwy between Talbingo and Kiandra, down a gravel road. The folks at the information centre are extremely helpful and offer great advice on what is good for families with young kids.

Of the many caves open to the public, we venture to the South Glory Caves, which is self-guided unlike others which require booking a tour with a guide. The cave entrance is a 400m walk from the car park near the information centre, along a bush track that overlooks the gully that heads towards the thermal pools.

As we enter the cave, the tribe need reassuring due to the impending darkness that it will be totally fine and fun. The strategically placed soft spot lights that line the concrete path through the caves offer just enough lighting – we call these ‘candles’ which makes it special for the tribe, as candles are magical!. The further we walk into the caves, tribe’s confidence grows with Kaydin marvelling the experience – to the extent that he said to Zak, who showed signs of discomfort, “it’s okay, I’m here”.

We enjoy the many features typical of caves – stalagmites, stalactites, shawls and pools – which the tribe marvel. This is an adventure for them as well as an opportunity for them to exclaim “Whoooooo!” hoping for an echo. After about twenty minutes we climb the stairs towards the exit – we know it’s the exit as it is marked so on the exit door (who’d had thought there be a door to the cave?).

Feeling hungry, we find a park bench next to the carpark where we feed ourselves – and what a wonderful place to snack as we are joined by a male lyrebird foraging in the grass just 20 metres from where we are seated. The tribe watches, intrigued by its long, decorative tail as it fossicks through the tufts of grass and dirt for food.

After it nourishes itself, the lyrebird, upon yours truly trying to get closer for ‘that great photo’ hurries back into the undergrowth, only to start making a variety of other bird calls, mimicking a handful of other local native birds – to the extent, I have no idea what the lyrebird call is.

The tribe's first time in the snow

Our drive to Mt Selwyn is in stark contrast to the one the previous evening in which we strained our eyes in the darkness to avoid potential roadkill; this time we enjoy the landscape of rolling hills, the snow gums, the alpine shrubs with leaves of purple and red. No animal danger this time – just a couple of foxes scampering into a depression about 50m to the left side of the road.

The features of the day we sold to the tribe were snow, toboggans and snowman building. As this is the first time the tribe would be experiencing snow, there was excitement laced with a hint of trepidation when they initially saw snow in patches by the roadside.

When we reach Mt Selwyn, we get dressed into our snow gear in the car. Saffiya and Soraya are first dressed and I take them to play in the snow beside the carpark. Once Zak was in his gear, I take the girls and Zak to the snow field area while M gets herself and Kaydin ready. We play a bit with the snow and snack on muesli bars as we wait for M and Kaydin to join us. However, Soraya needs the toilet, so we tramp to the Selwyn Centre.

Manic inside as it is the lunch hour – the buses in the carpark indicated masses of people and here they were, queues of hungry school kids filling the place, snaking from the cafeteria counter in the dim dark distance. I shepherd my three through the crowd to the toilets and find the largest cubicle.

No sooner than we enter than they all start to complain loudly about the smell:

“papa, it smells” . . . “it’s smelly papa”

Yes, it’s the men’s toilets, but that is not the actual reason for the pungency – the basis for the smell is that it's septic.

Undressing Soraya who was wearing a parka over her one-piece snow suit ensemble without completely undressing her and letting any part of the clothing touch the damp (wet from piss?) floor was a challenge. It required tucking the arms of the snow suit inside themselves, then rolling the upper body section neatly out of harm’s way (ie not in the path of pee) – and this all took time, so it’s lucky that she has some bladder control otherwise she could have added her souvenir to the floor, as well as her clothing.

Obviously, this being a fairly busy time, there are many using the toilets and so it goes that some of the many will be washing their hands and using the hand dryer – the electric one that sounds like a vacuum cleaner. And no sooner than this starts, Zak begins to cry because he vehemently dislikes the noise and is kind of scared of the hand dryer.

So, there I am dealing with Zak crying because of the hand dryer, the others complaining about the smell and trying the get Soraya on the toilet without soiling any of her clothes – oh, I’m just beginning to enjoy my holiday.

We escape the building after negotiating the same crowd of hollering schoolkids queuing for the cafeteria – it seems that the queue had moved very little in all that time. We go to meet M and Kaydin and find Kaydin having a freak out. M hadn’t been able to work out what was upsetting him, so I talk to him, but with his screams and tears, there’s not much conversation let alone any opportunity for Kaydin the express anything but the continuing distress.

I pick up Kaydin and carry him to the hire-centre so he can choose a toboggan and he starts to calm down between whimpers, tears still streaming. Inside the hire-centre, he begins to quieten and between my questions and his responses, we work out that he didn’t like the scarf wrapped around his neck, covering his mouth.

We hire two toboggans (green and red) with M and I taking turns riding with one of the tribe to give them a feel for the fun. They all really start to enjoy themselves; even Kaydin breaks a smile now.

Following each downhill ride we’d trundle up the slope – Saffiya and Soraya were in their element, both proving to be snow naturals. Zak would invariably trip himself in his usual clumsy way as he stumbled his way uphill whereas Kaydin would claim “I can’t”. [Gotta toughen these boys somehow!] After several rides down the toboggan run, Saffiya is bold enough to do a couple of solo rides – you go girl!

We take a break from the toboggans to make a snowman. What would considered to be a fun activity became a little dramatic as gloves fell off when trying to pick up snow, so the snow was too cold or too difficult to pick up – the major frustration being blamed on the gloves. Realistically, gloves are cumbersome for little hands, especially snow gloves with the extra layers of warmth and ‘water-proofing’ so frustrations should not have been such a surprise. We do manage to make the snowman, with a carrot for his nose, stones for eyes, mouth and buttons, sticks for arms and my beanie for a hat.

After the snowman building, we have a few more rides on the toboggan and then decide it is time to head home. As we head back to the car, toilet breaks are needed. Kaydin being the last to be toilet trained, the novelty of peeing in the snow entranced him – and allowed us the opportunity to teach: “don’t eat yellow snow!”. We change into dry clothes and pack away the wet gear – the tribes’ clothes under the snow gear were soaking, yet they never complained.

The drive home to the holiday cottage was fairly uneventful until the steep decline 10km from Talbingo when we hit a sudden and heavy hail shower, causing the car to skid on the ice covered road as we slow down to less than 20km/h. The roads were white, the hail noisy, waking the tribe and frightening them a bit. And just as suddenly it began, it abruptly ceased.

Roadtrip to the snow

We leave home around 7am, an hour later than planned – well, not really planned as much as anticipated which would be closer to the truth. Nothing goes to plan when we set a time to it, so it’s better to call it anticipation. It’s not that we fail to meet planned timings; with a family like ours, it can be a bit hit and miss.

Heading down the Hume Hwy we stop in Goulburn for a coffee and toilet break, or should than be a coffee refuel for maman et papa and a toilet stop for the tribe? Anyway, it became a play stop in the big park with the big trees and a big playground. In the park, we met "J", a five year old boy who was big for his age. Actually, big for his age is an understatement – he was big for his age in a similar proportion the Big Merino is to sheep that adorns the outskirts of Goulburn. Basically he was the size of a boy double his age – what’s in the waters here?

Heading south out of Goulburn, we pass by the Big Merino twice (to show the tribe) – first passing it on the road then we go around it through the carpark and then again on the road. Oh yes, it’s just an oversized sheep that’s 15 metres tall and the entrance to the gift shop is under its balls – just mind the dags (well not really, the entrance is to its side but imagine, if it were under its hind legs).

Canberra means lunch – in our language at least. Last time we were here several years ago on a weekend break visiting the museums and galleries, we found the place to be desolate and devoid of life. This time, we hit the main retail district at the lunch hour and spend a bit of time trying to find a park that isn't height restricted – the retail centre’s many carpark entries had a restriction of two metres and we were well over that with a luggage pod (cleverly disguised as a trendy, slick ski and snowboard pod) straddling the roof of our already tall four wheel tardis. Eventually we find an open-air carpark which suits us perfectly.

We hit the food court, followed by a brief amble through the complex in search of a supermarket to grab some provisions for our week’s break. Driving again, we find the streets are like that of our previous visit – sparsely populated and pretty much lifeless, as all life has been consumed by the many steel and glass edifices we pass. Such a stark contrast to Sydney’s Pitt St Mall or Melbourne’s Bourke St.

On our way out of town, we stop in Manuka to grab a coffee – plenty of cafes to choose, each as lifeless as the other at this time of day. And unbeknownst to us, we discover it be a mini Toorak or mini Double Bay – or should that be One-rak or Single Bay such is Manuka’s pretension to be grander than the sum of its soulless parts.

Along the Monaro Hwy to Cooma, we pass countless sleeping kangaroos by the roadside, each tagged with red paint – got us thinking that you sure do need protection when playing paintball skirmish. Actually, they were victims of the game ‘chicken’, or replicating that cliché of the car trying to outrun the train to the crossing and coming off the loser big time.

These sleeping kangaroos actually offer many passing drivers of a Kodak moment opportunity to replicate the works of Shaun Gladwell and his ‘Apology to Roadkill (1-6)’, but alas I don’t have leathers or a motorbike helmet packed in the car. While we didn’t stop to shoot a roo, we did however stop for the tribe to shoot into the wind.

Something that struck us on the road a short time out of Canberra was the prison (sorry ‘correctional facility’ . . . umm do they actually correct anything in these places?) – this must be the most secure prison in the country as in: to where would you escape? Canberra?

Ahhh, Cooma – closer to the snow, or at least they would like for you think so with the countless ski hire shops dotted along the road into town. It makes you feel you are actually in snow country – but where is the snow? Cooma is obviously delusional . No nearby hill looked like it had seen snow in quite a while – in fact it would be many more kilometres before we even see a glimpse of the white stuff. Yep, so after several hours on the road, the tribe is still wondering if this stuff really exists.

I visit a couple of these ski hire shops in the vain hope that they stock some second-hand kids gear at knock-off prices – why spend $$$ for a little kid who’ll outgrow the thing next week. Anyway, the folks in these establishments seem pleased as punch when I enter – you can see their thought bubble float above their heads (“oh goody, a customer . . . at last”) – and after a quick scan about the shop before I open my mouth, my replying thought bubble, like an arrow (“me, a customer, not really”) – evaporating their thought bubble in the process!

Our destination and holiday cottage is in Talbingo, a little town near Tumut over the other side of the Snowys and as we headed down the Snowy Mountains Hwy, we see glimpses of snow in the now fading light of the early evening, which cheers up the tribe no end – now they are excited.

Yes, snow is real!

We pass by Adaminaby but we don’t enter town to view the big trout. Along the winding narrow Snowy Mountains Hwy, no street lights, no moonlight and teaming with potential roadkill suicide targets, we see many roos, veer to miss scampering rabbits and startle three brumbies alongside our part of the road who literally appear from nowhere and disappear as quickly in the rearview .

Pity we were doing this drive in the fast fading light as we could see glimpses of the potential beauty of the scenery – patches of snow, the white dotting the landscape like a sprinkling of icing sugar on a dessert, interspersed among the clumps of snow gums and other alpine fauna.

We continue on our way to Talbingo, concentrating our watch in the hi-beam ahead to spot potential kamikaze wildlife as the darkness envelopes us.