The next morning we were up early to knock down the miles to our next stop, some 560 kms up the coast to the north. The journey went by quickly, with the helping hand of sour worms and a barrel full of coffee propelling us through the kms.
To get to our destination, Seal Rocks, we had to pass through Sydney once again. Unfortunately the Satnav took us through Sydney's many suburbs to the west. In a way, it was good to see places like this, if only for a bit of grounding. Everyone who makes the move over here seems to think that this country is faultless. Well, it isn't. Sydney's suburbs are like sprawling, grey forgotten corridors of shit. If Katoomba was the Rotherham of Australia then the Sydney suburbs are the Moss side, Hackney and Frattons. Massive social problems, a large ethnic population with obvious integration issues with a State government that would rather polish the Harbour bridge than look after the hoards in the ever increasing suburbs.
In the end, we battled through the Sydney suburbs for nearly two hours before we were once again on our way and heading up the coast. In just over two hours we were pulling off the highway and driving what felt like endless gravel roads until we reached Seal Rocks, a truly amazing part of the world that had that aura that nobody knew about it. We spent a couple of days at Seal Rocks eating, drinking, batting away the turkeys who seemed to want to steal our tents and some good old sea fishing. It was a beautiful place and we all had a blast.
The next day we packed up camp and set off up the coast. We'd planned to travel the seven hours in as little time as possible, setting off early and arriving at an indeterminate campsite in Byron Bay but in the end we stayed for only an hour or so. I was last in Byron five years ago and was determined to go back and show shell what it was all about. Turns out it was not as amazing as I had remembered, probably because I was in a drunken haze for the vast majority of my time there. It was slightly seedy and brash and although we were there during the day it just didn't seem as though it deserved any of it's plaudits, in short it was a but if a let down. Actually before we got to Byron we had chance, just past Coffs Harbour, to visit another one of Australia's 'big things', much like the big sheep further south. This time the big thing was a 'giant' banana that when we arrived turned out to be about as unimpressive as you could imagine. I know it looks big on the photos but let's be honest here, if it's in the national mapbook your thinking it has to be huge. Well it wasn't, hence the photo....
Anyway as we moved further up the country we decided not to camp in Byron as we would need to pay at least 80 dollars a night for a basic, unpowered pitch. So on we went, travelling due north past the concrete jungles of the Gold Coast, including Surfers Paradise, until we reached outback country, around 50kms inland from Brisbane. It had been a defining feature of this trip, and something we were hoping to find, to stray away from the predictable and the bland in pursuit of the authentic Australia. Somewhere between Ramsay Street and the outback bar scene in Crocodile Dundee. This we got. We joined Teeny's family in a pub out in the country for ten dollar steaks, all washed down with the local favourite, Castlemaine XXXX. stereotypically delicious.
All you had to do was look around at the kind of people eating and drinking in there to know that no backpacker, maybe not even a guy from the next town, had ever experienced this place. There was even a guy on the adjacent table with a long black mullet...permed! Not to compare everything to that famous film but it really did seem that everyone was related to Donk. Google images search; Crocodile Dundee-Donk.
So there we go then. Our great Aussie Roadtrip. Soon enough we were heading onto the highway and up the Sunshine Coast north of Brisbane to Rowan and Teeny's, our home for the next couple of weeks before our flight over to NZ.
These guys!!
Much love, Tommo and Flemmo xxx
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