Along the Sapphire Coast

In our customary fashion of being (un)fashionably late with these posts, two weeks behind schedule, here we go.

We have finally embarked upon our trip to circumnavigate the expanse of land that is Australia. Our journey thus far has found us settled in the park-filled confines of Melbourne (lots of green space here) for the better part of a week, hosted by VC, a friend of Ethan's father who has lived in Melbourne for years.

Now, time to recount the trip from Sydney to Melbourne, tracing our route along the Sapphire Coast.

About an hour's drive beyond Sydney, Ethan, Tori and Sheila (the truck, remember? We did not pick up some rando) traversed the Sea Cliff Bridge, a marvel of engineering where the roadway is supported by piers on the edge of the rugged coastline. The road gives the sensation of floating above the sea below. Time constraints kept us from taking a walk on its path, so we soaked up as much of it as we could.

Pressing on, we stopped occasionally to take in the views. After three hours, we arrived at the Jervis Bay Holiday Park. Now, to us, a holiday park sounds like something off the BBC show "Top Gear," with Jeremy, Hammond and May pulling into a crowded campground in some absurdly modified cars they designed for a "caravan trip." In reality, a holiday park is like a Kampgrounds of America (KOA), if a KOA was clean, well-kept and filled with courteous people. We enjoyed the hot showers, washing machines and potable water. Luxurious! Our spot was nestled under a massive, colorful eucalyptus tree. The eucalyptus trees here never get old. Maybe we should take a page from 19th and 20th century Australians and introduce the trees to North America. What could go wrong?

After fishing at Jervis Bay for a bit and enjoying some time on the beach, we moved campgrounds to the nearby Booderee National Park, right on the ocean.

Now, allow us to describe the Bittangabee Campground at Booderee—a scene out of a zoological painting sprung (or bounced, with the kangaroos) to life. As we pulled onto the dirt road, a sudden blur of brown fur darted in front of Sheila, prompting Tori to issue a timely warning in the form of a screech. With dead-cat-like reflexes, Ethan brought Sheila to a halt, narrowly avoiding the creation of a kangaroo pancake. Our exploration of the area revealed that our campsite was more or less a petting zoo, teeming with kangaroos and wallabies. Some big, some small, some with curiously long, narrow noses ...wait, that one is actually a Potoroo, more on it in a bit. Amidst this setting, Tori grappled with a bout of uneasiness, questioning the etiquette of interacting with these endemic marsupials. Yet, as it turns out, the risk of seriously upsetting the creatures proved to be minimal. Fewer than five people per year are treated for kangaroo related injuries in NSW. (TIP: if you ever do feel threatened by a kangaroo, simply allow it time to move away and if that doesn't work retreat in a crawl position or grab a shovel and prepare to fight, like Ethan did when one first bounced towards our camp.)

As darkness descended upon our camp, a different kind of drama unfolded. While smelly old Ethan ventured off to enjoy a warm shower, Tori found herself thrust into a scenario with the local residents of the nocturnal realm. Amongst these creatures, the Common Brushtail Possum emerged as the dominant character. Distinguished by its distinctive bushy tail and mostly benign disposition, they are completely different than the American Opossum. Much cuter, and lacking the menacing teeth, their insatiable curiosity posed a constant challenge nonetheless. We had to exercise diligence in safeguarding our food and equipment from their prying attentions, as they are infamous for feasting on the food of the inattentive. Tori watched over as they crawled out of the woodwork (literally), and she practiced crowd management as they sniffed around, crawled on Sheila and attempted burglary. She was forced to shoo them away, and then was startled when the Potoroo entered the camp. She thought it was an ant eater at first, but too small and rat like. Regardless, she retreated up the ladder into the tent for the night, unwilling to stick around to figure out what it was at the time.

Having survived the creatures of the night, we woke up early the next day to get on the road. We enjoyed walking around the town of Milton, where we explored a couple shops, and had a wonderful breakfast at Brown Sugar Cafe, which incidentally served savory, not surgery, options. Next, we headed through Mollymook on our way to Ulladulla. Again with the incredible names.

In Ulladulla we enjoyed a tour of their fossil shop, and spoke for several minutes with the volunteer there who was eager to tell us about the geology of the region. We happily listened. After stopping in a bait shop for some advise and a rod that was slightly better than our K-Mart special we previously bought (yes, K-mart is a big deal here), we hit the road for Batemans Bay. It ended up being a cold, windy day, so the kayaking oyster tasting tour planned for the day was cancelled. Bummer.

Within the confines of Bournda National Park, next to the Wallagoot Lake, our adventure continued. Our fishing attempts yielded nothing more than the attention of some bait hungry crabs, leading a local to suggest we might find better luck in other areas. As the rain began, we opted for a modest meal of sausages (boy dinner) before retiring to the warm tent.

The following morning, with the percolation of coffee complete, we stopped in Merimbula before continuing to Eden. Here, we enjoyed toasties (toasted sandwiches) and topped off our caffeine reserves, before going to the Rotary Park at Lookout Point. Eden, steeped in its whaling history, now boasts a Killer Whale Museum—a testament to its bygone era. A park sign informed us that killer whales would expose the location of the whales to the whaling ships-- what snitches! While reading more about the area's history, we ate a substantial quantity of fruit (a kilo of grapes, two oranges and an apple), anticipating a bio checkpoint at the NSW/Victoria border. As it tuned out, our remote route bypassed any such formalities, rendering our grape eating useless (and regrettable). In many areas of the country, these checkpoints levy serious fines in the name of ecological conservation—though one might cynically (accurately) suggest revenue generation plays a role.

Our fishing attempts continued on the Wallagaraugh River in Mallacoota, albeit with limited success (none), before we arrived at the NRMA Holiday Park in Lakes Entrance. NRMA is like our AAA, but they provide some seriously nice camp grounds. Our campsite neighbor, John, an avid rural traveler with his wife through Australia's North in their robust 70 series cruiser, complete with a boat, quickly became a friend.

A run on the beach proved more an exercise in futility than actual exercise, but the idea sounded nice at first. After, we tried luck once again at fishing. With guidance from locals on the pier on how to rig up the lines, we finally caught several fish, albeit of modest dimensions. Naturally, with each retelling, these fish will achieve legendary size.

Ethan did his good turn of the day by helping an (almost certainly homeless) woman untangle her birds nest of a fishing reel, and teaching her how to rig up the rod. After having caught many fish, we stored all our gear, and bombed down the road to meet VC for the first time in Melbourne where we enjoyed some of his kangaroo lasagna—a fitting conclusion to this leg of our journey.