The Travelling Tent and Other Short Stories

---

On our final night in Sydney, our cell companion was a friendly local lad called Jason. That was friendly, until he went to sleep, at which point he started to burp, fart and sleep talk a little too aggressively for our liking. This prompted us to ditch the dorms and their unknown quantities, for our newly acquired tent (or travelling tent as it says on the cover) at our next stop; Port Macquarie, or Port as its affectionately known by the Aussies. The campground held pride of place between the centre of town and townbeach and was home to tents and RVs bigger than our tiny flat in Lansdowne. We tried to hide our little tent off in a corner but to no avail, I think we were the laughing stock of the place. We were happy however, at least there were no all burping, all farting, night menaces!

Port Macquarie is a beautiful seaside town and also Koala Central. We hired no gear bikes at extortionate prices and set off in the seering heat in search of a wildlife park and Koala breeding centre, 11.5KMs from town. The cycle was long and unpleasant, we were warned in the bike shop drivers are erratic and every 5 metres there seemed to be a roundabout to negotiate. Still, it was great to be back on bikes again and better again, we got to see some Kangaroos in the wild. This included one unfortunate critter who had been mushed into the middle of the road. Billabong park gave us our first up close and personal experience with some native Australian animals. The wallabies, wallaroos and kangaroos came right up to you and ate out of our hands and they had a Koala patting session. Those little guys really are like teddybears...I want one to go with the pet elephant we're getting when we go home.

All too soon it was time to pack up the tent and head back on another Greyhound bus. Australia is the sort of country you really need a car to get around, especially if you want to get off the beaten track. We are suffering a little from the rigidity of the bus schedules. As Ed has been here before and money and time are tight we are bypassing all the traditional tourist sights. Already 3 of you have warned me to go to the Whitsundays and Fraser island but put into context with the travelling we have done elsewhere it seems an awful lot to pay for experiences similar to many we have alreay have, besides Ed has already been. However this is proving more difficult than expected. As our next destination we chose Murwillumbah (or murbblywurrblyblah as our Greyhound bus driver called it) our reason was to climb Mt Warning (a first place to see the sun each morning in Australia). To get to Murwillumbah we had to overnight in Coffs Harbour, this, at first seemed like a complete pain but we were delighted to check into a cheap motel, which had an ensuite bathroom...our first since Christmas day! a tv...our first since Singapore and a big sit down dinner out...our first since Austrian Airways (does that count?)

We got back on the bus early the next morning (with regret...ensuites are such a luxury now) and arrived into sleepy little Murwillumbah. Its a beautiful little typical Australian town with a river running through it. We stayed at the YHA, an old building on the banks of the river and got to watch fruitbats and water dragons at nightfall. Mt Warning proved elusive as the free transport our guide book promised to and from the start of the walking trail only goes on even days. We wrote it off and decided instead to cycle out to the base and walk a trail through the rainforest. This was also not to be, last night the heavens opened and the rain continued through the night. A blessing in disguise maybe as we have been punishing our bodies quite hard exercise wise since ariving in Australia and this has forced us to sit back relax, read a little and sleep alot. No better town to take a step back and breath out.

Tomorrow we jump back on the bus and head for Brisbane...Ed has become company for all the old ladies on the long bus journeys. On the last trip one even called him a darling much to his delight. We are kept amused by the drivers in their funny uniform of shorts with white knee-high socks and equiped with fantastic Aussie dry wit. Just as well given the time we spend in the margarine tubs!

---