Day 2 - South West Rocks, Kempsey, Coff's Harbour and Woolgoolga

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Day 2.



Having made it abundantly clear to all in the vicinity the previous evening, when we checked in, that I wasn’t in a same sex marriage with Chris by confirming loudly that “the room has two beds right!”. We settled down to a night which ironically would resemble an old married couple. Chris constantly complaining that I hadn’t turned the fan on in the bathroom after I had rid myself of the last remnants of my Thailand trip. After some further bickering we finally settled down to a nights’ sleep. I was in trouble again on awakening as I had slept in and had missed an opportunity for an early morning fish in the pouring rain.



Anyway, we soon put the Rockpool Motel behind us as we continued our intrepid adventure. An adventure that had been painstakingly and conscientiously organised to the last detail. Except One. “What happens if it rains?”…….”What do you want to do?”. “I don’t know what do you want to do?”. This went on for a little while until we debunked into a café for a brainstorming session. Storming being an appropriate word in the circumstances. After much deliberation and two mugs of South West Rocks finest brew we boldly headed west. But not before seeing the non- beach highlights of our coastal retreat. These being the Smokey Cape Lighthouse and the Trial Bay Gaol.



I expect that the lighthouse and lookout have spectacular views. Maybe next time. None the wiser we headed to the gaol. Luckily the weather gods had nipped out for a smoko when we got there and the rain had stopped. None the less, the harangued and sunken eyed ranger who took our $11 entry fee felt obliged to offer us a Bunnings umbrella to use, free of charge. Chris gallantly refused but then ruined it minutes later by asking the woman if he could keep one. We left the office with an uneasy impasse between us and officialdom. What followed was an informative and enlightening walk around the Trial Bay Gaol shared with a mob of fattened and entitled Kangeroos’ who call the gaol home. One fun fact to share is that the gaol is named after a ship that foundered on the rocks and has nothing to do with a Trial. Bet you didn’t know that.



The weather Gods had finished their smoko as we left the gaol and they were back at work bailing out water on top of us. Go West was the call, and we headed for Kempsey. Of course, when one heads west, one invariably comes across Country and Western music. You don’t get any more country and western than Slim Dusty. We headed directly to, without passing go, the Slim Dusty Centre. An extraordinary construction solely dedicated to Slim. As you walk past a row of cement plant pots with Slims face carved into them, you reach the electronic front doors which upon opening burst out with Slim singing “G’day, G’day and howya goin, G’day, G’day and strike a light”. Then you are swallowed up into Slimdom. Caps, T-shirts, books, Mugs, CD’s, Akubra’s, even an Esky. We managed to have a moment of clarity and draw the line at parting with $23.50 of hard earned to enter the Slim Dusty museum. Maybe next time.



When we got out of there Chris needed a beer. I called Duncan but he wasn’t going to venture out in that weather. So then what better place, I hear you ask than “The pub with no beer”. Luckily enough it was on our now slightly bastardised itinerary. Actually, very bastardised. So 48kms later along a very picturesque and scenic drive over dirt roads we came to the Taylor Arm “Pub with no beer” boasting a selection of 16 boutique beers plus all the mainstream ales. Should be renamed “Pub with nothing else but beer”.



Chris was sated and we headed off again. Go East was the call after another brainstorming session. Drunk on the euphoria of visiting Aussie Icons we had a lust come upon us to visit the ‘Big Banana.’ “Coffs Harbour, driver”. In what can only be described as a Benny Hill like escapade, we approached the icon warily as we didn’t want to get sucked into Bananadom so we pulled up out the front, in the no stopping zone. Cue fast forward. Chris jumped out of the drivers’ side and ran to stand in front of the giant yellow fruit whilst I leapt out, camera in hand. I Fired off a number of shots, then we both legged it back in the car and were gone before anyone noticed we were there. Mission accomplished. What next. “How about the First Seikh temple in Australia?” Great idea. “Where is it?”. “I’m glad you asked me that, it’s at Woolgoolga.”



Fifteen minutes later we are in Woolgoolga standing outside the temple taking a less frantic photo. There is quite an Indian community in this coastal town. It’s a place where turbans meet the sea. As such it was an easy dinner choice, when in Woolgoolga do as the locals do, have a curry. But first we needed to find somewhere to spend the night. The tent was firmly wrapped away as the rain continued. We did a recky of the four Motels on offer. In search of the last one we got lost and found ourselves at the Woolgoolga Beach Holiday Park. “The cabins have two beds, Right?” I ask loudly. With our accommodation being sorted it was off to the local Indian. Chicken Jalfrezi and Beef Vindaloo have never tasted better. So, with that, our day was over. As I write this, the rain patters gently on the cabin roof and Chris’s snoring soothingly permeates through my closed door and I am left wondering if there is a working fan in this cabins’ bathroom amenities. Tomorrow’s another day. Goodnight

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