The dolphin, the whale and the manta ray…

Pottsville is a quiet coastal town in the northern rivers region of New South Wales, Australia. It may be somewhere families return to year after year for their camping holidays, but it remains a sleepy outpost that hasn’t quite achieved the stunning growth predicted a decade ago. This is our new home but, as so many people ask us (ex) inner-city dwellers, why Pottsville?

Four years ago, EB and I were sitting on the beach at Kingscliff, not far from Pottsville. I know, sitting. It doesn’t happen very often.

We’d been looking for property in the area and were talking about where we’d really like to live. Was it here?

Gazing out to sea in a rare deeply-zen moment, I said I’d like to live on the coast surrounded by bushland and wildlife. We both laughed. Now that would stretch the limits of our bank’s generosity.

In front of us, people were doing their beach thing. Glistening bodies catching rays, watchful parents making doomed sandcastles with sun-protected toddlers at the water’s edge, kids giggling and squealing as they took on the fiesty waves, surfers waiting for the next perfect set.

Suddenly, out of the deep blue, three dolphins powered towards the shore where we were sitting. At the last moment they turned and, leaping over some kids who’d managed to catch a wave, disappeared back out to sea.

We were stunned, but not nearly as much as a little boy who had no idea what the huge thing was that just leapt over him. I think he’ll be scarred for life.

Microsoft clipartLater that evening, walking along the beach, out of the corner of my eye I saw something that looked like a big sack being tossed up in the air. Impossible.

As we peered out to sea in the dusky light, there it was again. “OMG!” I tugged at EB’s shirt, “It’s a manta ray!”

Who knew manta rays could leap like that? Apparently they do because there it was again, leaping out of the water beyond the last break.

But wait, there’s more. In the morning, we woke early, as you do when you’re camping.

The sun was just creeping over the horizon, turning the sea to liquid gold. And there, close to shore, was a humpback whale breaching, waving its fins and slapping its tail on the water.

Our jaws, quite literally, dropped.

That afternoon we heard about an environmental estate on the outskirts of the township of Pottsville, two minutes from the beach, and we thought… hey, what have we got to lose?

Today, moving into the house we bought back then, felt like coming home.

It’s taken us a while to make the move, but it’s not like you can argue with a dolphin, and whale and a manta ray…


Bruny Island cruising

With EB stuck in Hobart dealing with investment property issues, I had a choice – stay in water-logged Brisbane or head to Tasmania for the weekend to hang out with the crazy boy. Tough choice…

Copyright: Louise Ralph

…can’t resist those water views.

Tasmania’s capital city, Hobart is an absolutely delightful place steeped in history, but not stuck in it.

There is so much to love about this city, from its sandstone buildings, wharves and iconic Salamanca markets, to its proximity to some of Australia’s most pristine wilderness and waterways, and an abundance of delicious food and wines.

Copyright: Louise Ralph

The Monuments. Just one of the spectacular rock formations on Bruny Island.

But wait, there’s more…and more… and more.

A short drive or boat ride away is the the always fascinating Museum of Old + New Art (MONA).

With its surreal other-worldly feel, MONA’s architecture is the perfect backdrop for the artwork and a fantastic event calendar.

There is a winery, brewery, café, cemetery and stunning accommodation onsite – notorious gambler David Walsh‘s gift to Tasmania that has helped put Hobart on the world map.

So much to explore, so little time. The plan was to go back to MONA, but cruising Bruny Island won out in the perfect boating weather.

The multi-award winning Bruny Island Cruise has just taken out Australia’s No.1 Tourist Attraction, and as soon as you meet Robert Pennicott, who founded and operates the tours with wife Michaye, you can see why…

He is absolutely nuts about this part of Tassie, a passion that’s rubbed off on his staff and affects everyone who takes the tour.

From breathing rocks, towering cliffs and sea-carved monuments, to show-offy dolphins, sleek fur seals and migratory seabird encounters, this is exhilarating in every sense – including becoming instantly windswept and interesting as you zip along on super-sized zodiac-style boats.

Copyright: Louise Ralph

Surfing the wake…

March and April are great times to do this tour, but I’m coming back in October when the whales are migrating…

Meanwhile, here’s more of our Bruny Island cruisin’ encounters. I rest my case.

Copyright: Louise Ralph

Shearwaters take flight…

Copyright: Louise Ralph

A fur-seal bloke’s life is fraught with danger. Apparently.

Copyright: Louise Ralph

Black-faced cormorants…

Copyright: Louise Ralph

And the last word goes to…dolphins in formation. Magic.

This is the next stop on our different journey list. Just as soon as I’m brave enough to implement my FIFO granny status. That’s fly-in fly-out (FIFO) as opposed to drive-in drive-out (DIDO).

Sometimes you’ve got to take a dolphin-style leap of faith…


A different journey

My only fridge magnet...

My only fridge magnet…

When you’re planning your next trip, you usually start with your beginning and end dates.

You hope for adventures and experiences to write home about; to be inspired, surprised and challenged.

But you know it’s a finite thing, and you’ll be back home to the familiar – back to the comfort zone, the stress zone or a bit of both and trying to hold onto that holiday feeling.

What you hope for is a different perspective and life changing experiences…

Moving house, from inner city living to a small coastal town as we’ll be doing next month, is a different journey.

And (to really mix my metaphors) even if it is a taste test rather than the place we intend to put down permanent roots, there’s that same breathtaking moment you get when any journey begins and you don’t really know what’s ahead.

One thing we know is that we’re not going to be in our comfort zone any time soon, and we’re unlikely to return to this city we’ve called home for 30 years – except to visit our kids, grandies and friends, and to work.

Among the new experiences will be the one and a half hour commute to meet with our city clients, instead of being there in the usual five minutes. But we’re thinking that arriving home at the beach after work will be incentive enough…

Like any journey, it’s overwhelming and exciting at the same time. We know the path won’t all be easy and smooth – if it was there’d be no stories to tell.

And stories, as some wise person said, are the difference between being a tourist and a traveller.


Another Byron Bay sunrise…

When our weeks are so jam-packed that the fast-lane looks like easy street, there’s nothing better than jumping in the DA and heading off for some chill time in Byron Bay.

We arrive late afternoon Friday and, as always, head straight to the beach.

In January, ex-tropical cyclone Oswald cut a devastating path through Queensland and hammered northern New South Wales on its way to rain on Sydney’s parade.

Copyright: Louise Ralph

Ex-tropical cyclone Oswald leaves its mark on Byron Bay’s pristine shoreline.

The evidence of Oswald’s passing hits us immediately.

The sand has been effortlessly carved away, the beach is re-configured, swaths of coastal vegetation are gone.

But today, it’s calm and raining gently – and the insanity of city life and relentless storms has slipped away.

It’s one of those rare moments you just want to hang onto, when even the grey skies and persistent drizzle can’t dampen our spirits.

If I was any more relaxed, I think I’d fall over backwards.

Of course, the serenity can’t last.

EB is already nudging me to get my runners on so we can do the lighthouse circuit before the light fades.

Step aside Oswald… EB is a force to be reckoned with.

Copyright: Louise Ralph


Postcard from Nepal

We’re planning a house move at the moment, so it’s time to dust off more of those travel memories…until we can hit the road again (and not in a removalist van).

Copyright: Louise Ralph

October 2008: We’ve just emerged from the clouds. Trekking the Annapurnas was both surreal and an absolute blast – and the pace was surprisingly civilized (an added bonus).

Of course, EB was hopping from one foot to the other the whole time.

We had a great group…all young-at-heart and, thank god, not out to prove they were super star trekkers.

As always, EB was the social lubricant – possibly because the rest of us were actually gasping for breath most of the time.

Copyright: Louise RalphAt one of the villages, we found some open space and challenged ‘the boys’ (sherpas and guides) to a game of cricket… with a bit of wood and a ball made of something wrapped in plastic bags and held together with string!

The only problem was that a ‘six’ required a jungle safari and sharp eyes to retrieve the ball.

Copyright: Louise Ralph

Our sherpas…

On the last night, we rocked the (tea) house ’til the wee hours with our sherpas. It’s amazing what fun you can have with one drum, some dodgy whisky, and a bunch of crazy people.

One bloke in our group said ‘Louise wants to take three of you boys home for her daughters’…which guaranteed I was never short of dancing partners. We had people from the village turning up to see what was going on and joining the party…

Nepal’s scenery is spectacular, the people are delightful, and there’s something magical about sharing rickety rope-strung bridges with a passing parade of donkeys laden with goods. Oh and the food? Delicious and mostly vegetarian. What more can I say?

The contrast with Bangkok, our stopover on the way to Nepal, was another story. A huge, humid, smelly city were a tuk tuk ride is a journey to anywhere – except where you want to go.

…mostly to tailors who ‘make you suit for cheap-cheap price’ or out-of-the-way boat sheds where a business associate (aka cousin) was ready and waiting to take you on a special charter boat with bonus snake park visit.

The adventure continued at the night markets where we had fun bargaining with the locals. Lots of laughs. The market was in the red light district, and every few steps I got asked to go to a ping pong show (note to self: dress like a girl next time).

They take pole dancing to whole new levels in Bangkok… the bars are lined with poles (every couple of feet) with a very gorgeous and very bored girl (or lady-boy) on each, gyrating half-heartedly for the slavering tourists.

Apart from the markets, Bangkok’s shopping centres are mega-huge. One Aussie shopping centre would fit on one floor, and there are seven!

Copyright: Louise Ralph

…walking the streets of Pokara

Back in Nepal, and we’re hanging out in Pokara while some lovely people wash our clothes. I could get used to this!

Tonight is our end-of-trip party (another one). Tomorrow we head into the jungle to look for four-legged wild life in Chitwan, and then we’re off to India…

 


Hanging out around Sydney Harbour

We arrive in Sydney on Friday and walk out of the airport into a wall of dry heat. At 46 degrees celsius, it’s the hottest day on record. But that doesn’t stop us taking to the scorching pavements…

Copyright: Louise Ralph

I see a photo opportunity… a seagull poses in front of a giant, world-travelled rubber duck, the mascot for the Sydney Festival

It’s my real ‘new year’ and EB likes to make sure I grow old disgracefully.

This means my birthdays usually involve things like jumping out of a plane, driving a racing car, hanging doughnuts around an oil-slicked track at a defensive driving course, or whatever crazy thing EB can think of…and that I might actually agree to.

So far he hasn’t convinced me to go bungy jumping.

This year, we’re hitting the water for something a little more relaxing. So, after a scorcher on Friday, we’re up early to join our Sydney Harbour Kayaks eco-tour of Middle Harbour – and it’s 20 degrees cooler than yesterday. Of course.

Sydney Harbour is awe-inspiring, whether you’re walking around it, sitting beside it, driving over the Harbour Bridge, or taking a ferry ride. From a kayak, it takes on a whole new perspective.

We weave between moored yachts and cruisers and past affluent harbourside residences, glide past stunning sandstone formations and remnant bushland, and stop at a tiny secluded beach fringed with oyster-clad rocks.

The hours drift by too quickly and soon we’re taking on a fiesty headwind to make it back to the Spit. It’s so beautiful out on the water, even when it’s choppy, and we’d happily keep paddling all day…

Back to reality, and EB’s plan to do another section of Sydney’s stunning coastal walk is thwarted. Too much good wine and conversation with friends on Saturday night makes waking up at dawn the next day an impossibility.

Copyright: Louise Ralph

Balmoral Beach

Instead we have a lazy morning walking around Darling Harbour, before meeting up with family and heading to beautiful Balmoral Beach. The cool change evolves to threatening grey and we watch the sheets of rain cross the harbour towards us.

Soon everyone is scrambling for shelter and the beach is deserted, except for a couple of teenagers and a jogger who shakes off the rain as he splashes along the pathway.

We shake the rain off too and frock-up for dinner at the iconic (and rather posh) Bather’s Pavilion.

Mais oui, there are worse ways to welcome in another year… Bungy jumping springs to mind.

Copyright: Louise Ralph

The Bather’s Pavilion at Balmoral Beach


Hinchinbrook wanderings – a retrospective

copyright: Louise Ralph

Mt Bowen on Hinchinbrook Island

My only resolution this year is to ‘seize the moment’.

So EB and I have been lapping up the holidays, paddling the Brisbane River and freewheeling on our Bromptons around the city.

And while we’re at home, it seems like the perfect time for a little ’armchair travelling’ – retrospective style.

Here are some memories from my first through-walk effort with EB…

October 2007: A friend of mine has just come back from Fiji and she’s still floating on ten days of waves lapping the shore just outside their beach hut, water of the perfect colour and temperature, cocktails and smiling happy people…

We’re off to the coast next week ourselves. Except I’m carefully packing bush camping gear, insect repellent, dehydrated food, snake bandages and two changes of undies into a backpack that looks big enough to carry me.

We’re getting ready to walk the Thorsborne Trail on remote and beautiful Hinchinbrook Island, off the Queensland coast near Townsville. When I say remote, I’m talking about the only way out being evacuation by emergency helicopter – or on foot.

copyright: Louise Ralph

Achtung! Crocs hang out here.

So, once the ferry drops you off, you’re on your own. Unless you count the company of estuarine crocs, marine stingers, bush rats that steal your food, and a variety of bitey insects.

I’m sure I’ll appreciate the cloud-covered mountains, fragile heath vegetation, patches of lush rainforest, sweeping sandy beaches and rocky headlands – once I’ve dumped my pack for the day.

Did I mention I won’t be able to have a wine for a week?

But there’s bound to be a bit of whine-ing going on! The whole ‘experienced and fit bushwalkers’ thing has me shaking in my sturdy footwear. What was I thinking?

Next time my intrepid adventurer partner EB decides we need a holiday, I’m going to be there when he books it.

Five days later…

copyright: Louise Ralph

As we wait for the ferry to collect us at the end of our Hinchinbrook walk, you could knock me over with a feather. Not because I’m exhausted, but because I am in shock.

I started the walk thinking I’d be counting the days and the kilometres until I reached the end. But here I am, feeling sad that it’s over and wanting more.

I’ve lugged my 15 kg pack along rocky trails criss-crossed with tangled roots, negotiated slippery creek crossings, scrambled up and down rocky sections, and (almost) got used to March flies with a fatal attraction to my hair.

And I’ve loved every bit of it, with the possible exception of EB whacking me over the head constantly (It’s a March fly, he says. Yeah right).

Even with the bities and the humidity, it’s a fantastic walk. One moment we are deep in cool, lush rainforest or rock hopping across crystal clear creeks, the next we’re walking through mangrove and palm swamps, open eucalypt forest or grass tree shrubland.

Copyright: Louise Ralph

Zoe Falls

Along the way, we stop to cool off in deep forest pools beneath cascading falls or slide into the pristine blue of one of Hinchinbrook’s bays.

At night, the island comes alive in a very Jurassic Park kind of way.

There’s a whole lot of squawking, hunting and foraging going on beyond the campsite – which is strangely comforting, except when you want to go outside for a pee.

Who would have thought carrying all your stuff on your back for four days could be so relaxing?

Hinchinbrook has left us both floating…and there wasn’t a cocktail in sight. Perfect.

Copyright: Louise Ralph

Crab art on Hinchinbrook


Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 168 other followers