After a few days at Mittagong we moved on to the Showgrounds at Moss Vale. The autumn colours are becoming stronger and stronger (Bother traffic lights and tinted windscreens, they spoil the photos!).

The predominant tall hedge trees here are pencil pines, not the poplars of drier regions.

Everywhere was so green, including the Showgrounds.

The Showgrounds are obviously  rather old; generations of horses must have chewed on these stall railings.

One of the friendly locals

With the Easter holiday period over it was safe to venture forth again and (again) visit Fitzroy Falls, at the top of the range. There were several informative signs about the native animals to be found there; I loved this one about the platypus near an area that reminded us of the platypus country around Eungella near Mackay. 

The Fitzroy Falls:

More informative signs: wombat, lyrebird, and even one about the Wicked Banksia Men!

Wonderful views and gnarly old trees …

The view from various places along Mt. Gibraltar, overlooking Bowral. It was too hazy for good photos.

Another day we drove down to Wollongong to have lunch with my cousin Eleanor. (More prawns!) Afterwards we visited the headland where in 1880 cannons were placed to defend the port.

Back to Westy and a nice sunset at the Moss Vale showgrounds. Bother the arc lights.

I will leave it to Dave to tell about our visit to the magnificent Railways Museum at Thirlmere, some way north of Mittagong, in the next blog.  We have now been up and down the Great Dividing Range at least four times by several different routes, most of them exceedingly steep and twisty.  Without Westy in tow, thankfully.

We made a special trip down the mountain to visit the RAN’s Fleet Air Arm Museum outside Nowra. Quite a way outside in fact, we were beginning to wonder if we were on the right road.  Warning: Lots of aeroplane photos ahead!

Here are some of Dave’s photos of the aircraft at the Museum.  Fairey Gannet

Sea Venom Skyhawk TA-4G  Once owned by the RNZAF Skyhawk A-4G Grumman Tracker Anti-submarine Fairey Firefly Hawker Sea Fury    (One of my favourite Aeroplanes). Oh the Irony!!(Nancy:) The difference between the following two aircraft carriers was amazing. HMAS Sydney III (1948-1956) served during the Korean War. HMAS Melbourne II (c.1956-1967) was the last aircraft carrier to be in service. In 1964 she was involved in a tragic collision with HMAS Voyager II near Jervis Bay, in which 82 Voyager sailors lost their lives.

There were several early aircraft instruments matching the ones I have at home, originally used by my first husband’s father, Squadron Leader Bill Hoffmann, in WW2.

After the Nowra museum we drove around the coast towards Kiama, stopping at several small beaches and headlands ……

….. and visited the Kingsford Smith memorial at Gerringong. Unfortunately the view towards New Zealand was completely obscured by trees. Seven Mile beach was however visible. It must have been a very exciting time in January 1933.

Approaching Kiama, we investigated Bass Point where a large tanker ran aground in 1943. Nearby is the remains of a ship-loading facility. There was a quarry nearby so perhaps that is what it was for.

We were heading for the famed Kiama Blowhole, but when it became obvious it would take literally hours to get close, park the Jeep and then fight our way through the tourist hordes, we gave up.

That evening we met friends for dinner at Jamberoo, then returned to Westy via a different but no less steep and twisty route up the mountain. Through Bowral yet again; the autumn colours are a delight.

The Richmond Club caravan park had a 4-day stay limit so we were soon off again, heading for the NSW South Coast (Illawarra) via Campbelltown where I hoped to pay my respects to great-great-great-grandfather Hugh Vesty Byrne, a political convict who was freed on arrival,  in the historic cemetery next to St. John’s Roman Catholic church, one of the oldest churches in Australia. But I did not have the address of the church, and the Information Centre, when we finally found it, was closed. As we were towing a large caravan Dave was not at all inclined to drive around the town streets and we couldn’t just unhook and leave the caravan somewhere. So reluctantly we decided to press on. I had been to the cemetery in 2006 on the 200th anniversary of Hugh Vesty Byrne’s arrival in Australia, so it was not a huge disappointment to have to miss a second visit.

We had very foolishly neglected to book well ahead, it being the Thursday before Good Friday. The traffic on the Hume Highway was incredible, not helped by an accident some way ahead, four lanes inching along a metre or so a minute in a 110 km/hr zone.

We soon discovered via several helpful Apps that all the camping grounds around Kiama were fully booked up, and even many well away from the coast, eg at Berry. There was one which was near the highway but was not answering the phone; hopefully we left the congested highway and went there only to discover the campsite was closed. So on again as far as Mittagong where there WAS a campsite available.

As a footnote, when we arrived I could not find my glasses. After a quick search of jeep and caravan it was concluded that they had fallen out when we were inspecting the closed campground  earlier and trying to find another place … so we drove the 60 or so km back, did a thorough search of the roadside, found not a thing, so back to Mittagong and there were the glasses coyly hiding on the kitchen bench behind a curtain, where we had both searched previously. Just as well too as it seemed I had left my spare pair of glasses beind in NZ.  At least we did not have to drive quite as far back as we did when Dave dropped the caravan keys north of Mackay and we had to retrace our steps from near Eungella.

Spotted somewhere – “…plant a shade tree and then do something about it…” Errr – water it?

Once settled in camp, we began to explore the Southern Highlands area. Autumn colours were everywhere. This is an old church near Berrima. The little township was full to bursting with tourists so we did not linger that day but visited several days later.

We did however inspect Harpers Mansion, high on the hill overlooking Berrima and at first sight not particularly imposing. “The circa 1835 house is a fine example of a colonial Georgian residence and is furnished in period style”. Once derelict, it has been lovingly restored by the National Trust and was full of interesting things. What delighted me was that every room had a written description of all the room’s contents and their history, the sort of stuff that guides reel off effortlessly but which is usually quite lost on me. For example, the four-poster bed may have been comfortable with its multitude of mattresses, but was also probably full of fleas; a thinner mattress may have actually been more desirable.

Outside was a maze full of screaming children… and us! Eventually we managed to escape. There was also an extensive garden with many very old roses including several examples of the lovely white climber ‘Souvenir de la Malmaison’, first exhibited in 1893. Being late autumn of course the roses were well past their best. At the time the National Trust took over the house and grounds, the ‘garden’ was a paddock; the Trust employed a landscape gardener who lived in the house with his family for several years and gradually created the lovely garden there today. Lucky family.

We had a quick look at the famed Berrima courthouse and gaol but did not linger. I was hoping to see inside the courthouse but it has been taken over by a sort of continuous Son et Lumiere-style performance with, of course, an inflated entrance fee.

Another day we drove down the mountain range via the Kangaroo Valley to Nowra, going over the Hampden Bridge on the way. Almost identical to the bridge at Ophir in NZ. “Hampden Bridge is not only a remarkable example of Victoria engineering, but is also a unique demonstration to create an architecturally romanticised structure in a beautiful remote rural location.”  It was an important factor for the district’s development – “… Cobb & Co. coaches ran frequently, mail deliveries were easier, an Annual Show was organised…”  “…. It is still considered a vital link to facilitate the continued viability of the entire valley.”

Dave had long wanted to see the Naval Fleet Air Arm Museum outside Nowra. It did not disappoint, although the news that the cafe had closed and only vending machines were available was not welcome, and “…would we like to sign this petition asking for the cafe to be reopened…?“ We would and did.

Dave wants to add some photos so …… next blog!

On a fine early Autumn day we set off from Richmond, heading north to Wiseman’s Ferry, an area with a rich convict and colonial heritage. It dates back to the very early days of European settlement in the Sydney area and is about 75 km from the city. The road wound along the top of a plateau then started to descend steeply. Here’s our first view of the Hawkesbury River – the ferry is just out of sight.

The Convict Trail – a series of convict-hewn stones – commemorates the early crossing, at one time the only means of access northwards to the Hunter Valley.

There are actually two ferries. We took the slightly more southerly one at the confluence with the Macdonald River.  Houseboats are a familiar sight on the rivers.

About 16 km northwards of the ferry and alongside the Macdonald River was our lunchtime destination – the Settlers’ Arms Inn at St. Albans, built in 1836. Amazingly, the great flood of 1889 rose to the verandah eaves of the inn! It was once a stopover for Cobb & Co. coaches travelling between Newcastle and Sydney.

The food was awesome. Dave’s huge pie with mash and peas oozed gravy and huge chunks of meat. My lamb shank and beans soup with crusty bread may not have looked so attractive but the flavour was delicious. I’d go back for more any time.

Replete, we headed back towards the ferry but on the opposite side of the Macdonald River, along what was once the convict-built Old Great North Road.  An old graveyard beckoned ….

Many of the graves had modern bronze plaques attached. There was also a garden seat with a moving message. Imagine discovering your family at age 91.

We continued along the narrow road to the ferry:

On the way back to Richmond we stopped off at Ebenezer to admire the oldest church in Australia, erected in 1809.

To my surprise one of the settler families was named Johnston (my maiden name). But they were not my family, alas. Nor Dave’s. We are both Johnstons but unrelated.

Convict-hewn stoneswere everywhere.

Note the shaped corner stone.

Nearby is an old schoolhouse. This little plaque shows the flood height in 1867. The river is far off down a steep bank.

Why was that pile of stones fenced off? We found out …

Next morning we nearly missed seeing a balloon take off from a nearby field.

We left Richmond, heading for Moss Vale in the Southern Highlands. A whole new area to explore, but one that was once very familiar to me in my childhood.

The camp at Richmond, in the grounds of the Richmond Club, proved an ideal base from which to explore the Blue Mountains.

Our first exploration took us through Kurrajong Heights with an old church and graveyard right beside the highway. Not my best photo, shot from a moving car. We intended to visit Kurrajong Village itself at a later date.

We drove along Bell’s Line of Road, said to be the most scenic route into the mountains, climbing higher and higher to Bilpin where the guide books assured us there would be a multitude of roadside stalls. But it was late in the season and only apples were still available. This area supplied all the food to early Sydney.

During the fruit growing season we’ve been told you can download an App called the Farm Gate Trail to help discover the best local produce.  A pity we did not pick a better time to visit!

Then on to the Blue Mountains Botanic Gardens at Mt. Tomah. There was a weaving display there which I wanted to see.

Young waratahs, not yet fully formed.

Beautiful woven baskets using a variety of natural materials. Many years ago I did a weekend course in weaving and have never forgotten it.

The view from the main information Centre was breathtaking. Millions of years ago the valley would have been an extensive sandstone plateau, then violent volcanic eruptions capped the hills with lava which hardened into basalt. Over time rivers then cut ever deeper gorges and canyons.

The Information Centre was indeed informative: The blue haze that envelopes the mountains comes from oil vapours rising from the leaves of eucalypts below. There are more than 700 species of eucalypt in Australia.

The Wollombi Pine was featured. (I first saw a single specimen some years ago in Armidale, where I was informed of its unique history):

In the gardens was an unusual equatorial sundial, it reflects the basalt columns characteristic of the mountains, and was also inspired by the magnolia flower which has many features of the earliest flowering plants. 

A little further on we took a side track….

Lunch time! So we stopped at this little cafe in Mt. Victoria, I did not catch the name but the food was superb.

Mt. Victoria was the turning point for our Blue Mountains exploration. Autumn colours were just starting. 

Govett’s leap beckoned…..  it’s actually a waterfall, not a place where someone called Govett jumped out into space.

We spotted this insane tourist trying to attract attention; I think she was with the people on the left, we were studiously ignoring her:

Still high up in the Blue Mountains but heading downhill very gradually, we came to fabled Katoomba, absolutely awash with tourists. When I was very young we used to take the train up to Katoomba for a holiday. I loved the place. The very air was different from that in coastal Sydney, so much fresher, brisker and definitely colder (!).

Fighting our way through hordes of tourists, after having parked the Jeep ($4 for an hour) we finally reached the Three Sisters. The light was changing all the time.

There are various legends but basically the three sisters were belonged to an aboriginal tribe which was at war with another tribe, and the witchdoctor changed them into pillars to protect them during the war, intending to return and change them back … but he was killed so the three sisters have remained imprisoned ever since, as nobody can un-cast the spell.SS

The tourists had eyes for nothing but the valley and the Sisters, but we soon spotted something else, lording it over the whole valley: a Grey Shrike-thrush, Colluricincla harmonica. At least that’s what I think it is.

With dusk falling we headed back to Richmond down the fast highway.

The Morisset Showgrounds proved an ideal location from which to explore the Lake Macquarie area. One day we headed north round the Lake to the regional Art Gallery where there was an amazing display by final year Art students called “First Class 16”  – no photos allowed alas – certainly I was never taught those sort of techniques at school.

Then we repaired to the nearby Cafe for a delicious if slightly pricey lunch. Afterwards we explored the grounds – the Art Gallery is in a beautiful setting beside the lake with a number of large garden sculptures. A mob of cockies contributed.  The nearby heritage-listed home was not open.

Still not quite sated with Art, we then paid a visit to Sir William Dobell’s home at Wangi Wangi.

He won the Archibald Prize three times, the first time with a portrait of Joshua Smith, a fellow artist, which some people declared was not a portrait but a caricature. A lawsuit followed; Dobell kept his prize. He also painted the wonderful portrait of Dame Mary Gilmore which I included in an earlier blog when we are at Silverton near Broken Hill. His studio was at the top of the house up some very rickety stairs, and it was wonderful. The smells immediately evoked my granddad’s studio with all his painting paraphernalia. He had tubes of oil paints everywhere, but in Dobell’s studio someone has tidied up maybe a wee bit too much! (That’s a reproduction of the Joshua Smith portrait on the easel).

My artist granddad sometimes did “blueprints”, which I had completely forgotten about until I saw this:

I was delighted to see a long discussion about Dobell’s portrait of Margaret Olley. My school Art teacher Mrs Abbott all those years ago was always telling me to look for harmonious curves in art. Dobell’s work was often used to illustrate this. Mrs Abbott was magnificent, she made sure I understood everything she said by giving me numerous notes often written on odd scraps of paper.  How I wish I had kept them.

Another view of the Lake at Wangi Wangi:

Lastly we visited the site of a WW2 Flying Boat base at Rathmines, where 2,000 airmen  and 1,000 WAAF were housed during WW2.  Over 200 Catalina crews were trained here.

“The role played by Catalina aircraft and crews has received very little public recognition because of the need to maintain secrecy….”

The RAAF Catalina Memorial is impressive. It overlooks recently-named Catalina Bay , although remains of the old ramps and hard standing are around the headland in another bay. (I can’t believe I omitted to take photos there). There are plaques for every airman, whether he/she perished during the war or long after. There were some for people over 90 years old.

This was not the first Catalina memorial we have visited in Australia. There is one in Bowen Queensland, and another in Karumba up in the Gulf of Carpentaria.

Back to camp and another lovely sunset. I have been wondering why the nearby trotting track has not been used – probably too wet – but next morning at last there were two horses doing their stuff.

On our last day in the area we caught up with Vic and Anna who we met in a camp at Cloncurry last year. We shared a rather wet experience at the Cloncurry Stockman’s Challenge and some wonderful pizza made by Anna in an old fireplace in the Cloncurry campground, then went our separate ways.  We had a lovely catch-up. They are going to head north again soon but we are going home so I can write a couple of books. That is now the fixed plan according to everyone else!

Reminiscence mode on: I was hoping to catch up with an old friend who lives in Newcastle. We shared many experiences when campaigning for increased television captioning in the late 1980s and early 1990s. The first time I saw captioning was in Bowen in Northern Queensland (NQ) in 1985-6, it had started the previous year in capital cities. I must have bought the first television with teletext in NQ and then had to wait impatiently for at least six months until the service was extended past Brisbane. At first there was very little available; the husband of one friend was disgusted to learn I wanted to rush home to watch “East Enders”, the only other thing captioned in NQ at the time apart from the late night News!!  When I moved to Brisbane I joined a group campaigning for more captioning particularly on the 7 o’clock news, and eventually ended up as Chair of the ‘National Working Party on Captioning’ (NWPC) for 2 years. Those were the days when there was plenty of money around and the Australian Caption Centre flew state representatives down to Sydney several times a year – which I appreciated as it meant I could also visit my father and aunt in their nursing homes a little more frequently.

Captioning is not subtitling, strictly speaking: the former is a visual representation of the soundtrack, (speech plus noises like music, people coughing, tapping sounds, footsteps), while the latter is translation – but the terms are commonly used interchangeably.  The very first captioned movie shown on Australian TV was “Ghost”, on Channel 9, sponsored by Toyota. At least one Deaf person was so happy he went out and bought a brand new Toyota!  The funeral of the Princess of Wales was live-captioned, a marathon effort by a few very dedicated former stenographers. Unfortunately real time captioning like that is STILL a rarity in NZ.  (Reminiscence mode off).

We had to wait a few days until Karen was free so spent the time exploring. The notorious old Maitland Gaol received a quick visit from the outside only.

Then on to the historical town of Morpeth with it’s cobbled footpaths, beautiful old sandstone buildings and enticing little boutiques – it must be where all the fashionable Maitland people go to buy their classy clothing like alpaca coats. Morpeth dates back to 1821 when it formed part of a land grant given to Lt. E C Close by Governor Brisbane. “Influenced by its desirable location on the Hunter river and the realisation of the area’s immense potential, Morpeth evolved from a rugged bush base to a frontier town and heavily frequented river port by the 1830s.”  There were once 18 inns in the main street. Morpeth helped lay the foundations for the entire Hunter Valley.

Nowadays the Hunter is a muddy little river, -swollen and discoloured at the time we were there due to recent rain. I could not get any good photos due to roadworks closing off all the approaches to the river and bridge.

Maitland proved a good base, not too far from Newcastle and not too far from the Hunter Valley wineries. We decided to visit one for lunch and set off with high expectations and NO map of the wineries area, so initially headed in the wrong direction. Beautiful green hills and valleys and little bridges were everywhere. But no vineyards.

Finally discovering a huge road sign with multiple wineries we headed down a dirt road but after many km could only find one with an open gateway – and a closed cellar bar and restaurant. Retracing our steps we went further into wine country but everything seemed deserted. It was a Thursday …. in Blenheim all the wineries would be busy. Here it was deserted. Perhaps at the weekends? – but we didn’t hang around to find out. The vines look quite different to NZ ones, more scraggly and untidy, on long spindly crooked legs. When we left Blenheim in early April the vines were just starting to turn autumn colours; here they are not yet so advanced, although harvesting has obviously ended.

We did much better the next day, firstly meeting with Karen – a wonderful catching-up morning which went by all too quickly.

Karen suggested we go for a drive ‘along the foreshore’ of Newcastle, so we did. The area leading to the eastern breakwater has become fashionable with lots of apartments and that means lots of little restaurants. We found one at 33 Hunter St. called simply ‘Moor’ and decorated with beautiful old Arabian tiles, where we  had a memorable lunch. Me with three large perfect fallafel with oozy cheesey interiors, green tahini sauce and Arabian salad; Dave with something less outstanding but equally delicious. A pity my photo is a little out of focus.

Then on to the rather long breakwater, no family art there as at Port Macquarie but a series of bas relief sculptures commissioned for the Bicentennary.

Nearing the end…

The breakwater was constructed from several different materials including cement-filled sacks, apparently

Rock sculpture on one of the natural rocks.

We did find this little painting on the seaward side of a large rock at the far end of the breakwater – I wonder what it is doing there and what it symbolises.

Two lone surfers braved the waves close to the lighthouse.

 About that time we discovered a crack in the windscreen, it starts right down at the bottom. As it has been raining on and off every day for ages, the first windscreen repairer we approached wouldn’t even look at it, said it had to dry out for at least 24 hrs before he could attempt anything. We decided to wait till we were at our next destination – somewhere around Lake Macquarie. Not to be confused with Port Macquarie which is some 100 km north. Morisset Showground sounded suitable and not likely to be as high priced or crowded as the lakeside commercial camps, particularly with Easter coming up soon.

As it turned out, after we’d carefully covered the windshield area with a tarpaulin one night in case there was any more rain after a lovely fine day, a repairer said it was impossible to repair as the crack started right down at the bottom. He did however drill a tiny hole which will hopefully stop the crack spreading any further. We have already used up the Jeep’s glass insurance for the year so hope we will not need to replace it just yet.

Lake Macquarie contains more water than Sydney Harbour, but does not take nearly as long to drive right around. Which we did – twice! The first windscreen repairer was in Swansea on the seaward side of the Lake, so we took the opportunity to visit Cave’s Beach and then Catherine Hill Bay, both just south of Swansea.  The caves are Cave’s Beach are only accessible at low tide; lo and behold it was right on low tide when we arrived. The rock formations were interesting, alternate layers of very hard conglomerate and soft sandstone. It was easy to see how the caves were formed.

Catherine Hill Bay is a historical mining village, of which very little remains now but an old pier. I think there were some mine remains further up the hillside but we did not go that way. The beach was practically deserted but surf lifesavers were still in attendance (their clubhouse was up on the cliffside). The main road through the township is lined with beautiful little miners’ cottages; we shot past them before I thought to take some photos.

More about the Lakes area in the next blog.

We arrived in the rain and left in the rain but in between there was one half day of brilliant weather – the morning we scattered my brother’s ashes off the breakwater, in company with some of his friends.

We checked out the breakwater the evening before. The local council encourages people to paint the rocks, with the result that many are covered with either remembrance notices, or records of family visits, sometimes over multiple years. The wind blew strongly and only a few surfers were out.

That evening we discovered a super little restaurant right next to the camp. Gleefully I ordered my favourite prawns (in this case panko-crumbed, served on a slate plate with mild wasabi-flavoured mayo) … and then my favourite dessert, affogato. For once it was served correctly (at least according to the Italian lady who first served me affogato, in a tiny northern NZ town of all places) – a scoop of ice cream, a demitasse of strong coffee, and a liqueur. Bliss.

We went back again two days later. This time Dave ordered the prawns and I had something else. Not nearly as memorable. Why is it that the first time you try something new or go somewhere new, the second time is often not as good.

Next morning, after the ashes-scattering, six of us repaired to the local Bowling Club for a few hours.  We chose a quiet table in a far section but before long were surrounded by what seemed like hundreds of bowlers from all over Australia, there for a tournament. Eventually they departed for the links and peace reigned again!!

We visited the Port Macquarie Maritime Museum, housed in the old Pilot Station, a little gem with a lovely knowledgeable guide. I think I impressed him by correctly identifying a bo’sun’s whistle which had only recently been put on display and was yet to be labelled. (But when I put this photo on Facebook, immediately several knowledgeable friends piped up … (!)

There were rooms devoted to different aspects of maritime life including local shipwrecks (many!) and decorated with signal flags …..  

… early oyster farming (they used full diving gear similar to that used for pearl diving in WA) ….

… the usual early artefacts – Matthew Flinders called in here of course (no, not the museum) …

… a huge old binnacle complete with small magnets ….

… photo of a railways ferry ….

… the usual outdoors display …. and rope knotting display….

and some wonderful models of old sailing ships.  

A box sextant excited my curiosity, it’s very different to an ordinary sextant.

Port Macquarie does not have a big banana, big tomato, big salmon etc – it has big koalas. Not that big but certainly more than double life size, all the same basic model but painted in all sorts of different themes. These are three of the more intricate, the last one in the grounds of the old Court House; we didn’t manage to see them all. Some were merely in football club colours, McDonald’s, etc. I think there are 33 in all.

It was blowing hard again when we drove past Nobby’s Head but then stopped at Flynn’s Beach ….

….. and then visited Tacking Point, named by Matthew Flinders in 1802. The lighthouse remains but not the lighthouse keeper’s cottage.

There were wonderful views south along Lighthouse Beach.

A sign told of numerous wrecks in the vicinity. “Many fatal shipwrecks have been recorded along the northern NSW coast since records began before 1800, and more than 25 of those are off the coast of Port Macquarie alone. ….  Following outcry a the appalling loss of life at seas, the NSW Marine Board issued a directive to “… illuminate the coastline like a street with lamps”.”

Before leaving Port Macquarie we made a last trip to the breakwater. This time the sea was quieter and the clouds were clearing.  Also to Flynn’s Beach, this time it was  low tide.

We had several chats with my brother’s friends including his legal Guardian who was appointed five years ago, and as a result I have been able to piece together a few more parts of my brother’s life. We were very different people and did not see each other for long stretches, particularly as we lived far apart. I was glad I was able to see him last year when we dashed over to the coast from Broken Hill before heading north for the Queensland outback.