We had a brief stint at home, long enough to fulfill our duties at the Tilligerry Habitat and to discover this little chap had vandalised our bird box and moved in! He is a Brush Tailed Possum and we have heard him munching at the hole but didn't really think he would be able to make it big enough to get inside. The box is at eye level with our front door and the possum is driving Monty crazy every evening.
We hit the road again at the crack of dawn to visit our friends in Mount Warrigal, south of Sydney. After the, now traditonal, stop for a bacon and egg McMuffin we had a pretty good run down to Wollongong, about four hours which is better than expected when towing a caravan at the height of the holiday season. 

Most of the trip was motorway so the change in countryside came as a bit of a surprise when we took the Wollongong turn off. The road took us down the, alarmingly steep, Illawarra Escarpment which was surrounded by landscape that could be mistaken for the Sussex South Downs. It was beautiful and very hilly all around as we descended to huge Lake Illawarra. Our friend's house is in a lovely setting looking over the lake itself which is in turn, on a fabulous stretch of coast.
We went for lunch at the wonderful Gerroa Fishermens Club which served possibly the best fish and chips I have ever tasted and has a view to die for of Seven Mile Beach. This was followed by a trip to Kiama, a little north back towards Wollongong where we inspected the Blowhole, a hole in the rocks where spray shoots out when the surf is up. The sea was pretty quiet while we were there so it didn't perform its party piece but we got the idea, there was a fantastic ocean pool though. 

Next morning we were taken high up to Jamberoo which is a good spot to get a proper perspective on the area. From there it was just like looking over English fields of cows and trees and we got an idea of just how big Lake Illawarra is. It really is a glorious part of the country.
We had brought the van because we wanted to do a stop off on the way back at St. Albans, across the Hawkesbury River north of Sydney. We have both just read the book The Secret River, recommended to us by Zoe. It is based on the Hawkesbury around the area of Wiseman's Ferry and I wanted to have a look. We arrived in the town and eagerly headed for the pub which was originally the home of Wiseman and features in the book.

Unfortunately the staff were so rude there we did not stay to look around. I have never said this before in my blog about anywhere but...don't bother to visit the pub in Wiseman's Ferry!
It was a shame because the area is staggeringly beautiful, the ferry crosses the river where there are huge, tree covered cliffs on both sides with very pricey houses dotted around, it is extremely difficult to take a decent photo because the cliffs are so steep but, take my word for it, the place is gorgeous.
We boarded the ferry for the short trip across the river then made our way along the winding roads to St.Albans. After pulling over opposite The Settlers Arms we enquired in the pub if it was ok to free camp opposite and the response could not have been more friendly.

 The barman told us that settlers had been camping there for 200 years and we had as much right to as they did. What fun!
The campsite was a stretch of green on the banks of the river with toilets and running water, all free. 

St.Albans itself is a quiet, lush green little town with peacocks and chickens strolling around, it is commuting distance from Sydney so property prices are high and the pub get surprisingly busy in the evenings. We will come here again, it's a very special little place. 

 After a most enjoyable stay in Queensland we decided to take the inland route home. I have travelled up and down the coast a number of times and, although it is fabulous, I wanted to see some different places. So we set off down Steve Irwin Drive and the Bruce Highway on the five hour journey across the border into New South Wales where we headed for Nimbin, just inland from Byron Bay.
Nimbin is famous for its drug culture and I expected it to be full of young people getting wasted but that was not the case. It seems today's young travellers are more sensible than their predecessors as Nimbin seems to be populated almost exclusively by aging hippies who went there in the 1970s and 80s to smoke dope and never left. Most of the residents have dreadlocks, say 'Man' a lot and bear more than a passing resemblance to Catweazle, even the women!
It is an entertaining stopover, very friendly and the rainbow painted houses and cosmic shops are nice and jolly. We chose to stay at the Nimbin Showground which was a bit of a risk as it all looked a bit overgrown and frayed around the edges. It is clearly no longer used as a showground and the caretaker was another aging hippy living in a camper van by the entrance. We handed over our $10 each and parked the caravan before exploring the facilities with a bit of trepidation. There was nothing to worry about though because the showers and toilets, in spite of being quite old, were spotless. Showgrounds are a good camping option in country towns. There are cheap, always near the town centre and usually take dogs but you do take a risk on what the facilities will be like.
It was very peaceful in this showground too (maybe all the other campers were stoned) and it was surrounded by beautiful countryside, lots of rolling hills and trees that we describe as English green rather than the grey-green usually seen in Australia.
It was surprisingly cold over night as Nimbin is quite high up and, after a flat white in the vegan gluten free, msg and csg free cafe, we went to look at a permaculture garden. The idea as far as I could tell was to let different plants grow alongside each other in a mutually beneficial way, a bit like planting flowers in your veg patch to encourage pollination but on a much larger scale. Ian was impressed by the garden but I thought it was a bit of a mess and the term permaculture was just used as an excuse for not weeding or tidying up. 

We hit the road again and drove through more lush, green countryside on our way to Tenterfield where we planned to stay at the showground again. It could not have been more different than the Nimbin experience. The showground itself was immaculate, all manicured lawns and  spotless amenities and the town was an example of prosperous country living. The buildings were grand and beautiful but it was a bit of a soulless place and is the seat of the Deputy Prime Minister Barnaby Joyce who is leader of the National Party (it is a coalition government) and the whole place felt like very white, wealthy farmer territory.

 One reason I had wanted to visit Tenterfield was because it was the birthplace of one of Australia's favourite sons, Peter Allen. He became known in the UK for 'When My Baby Smiles At Me I Go To Rio' but he was hugely successful here. One of his famous songs was 'The Tenterfield Saddler' written about his grandfather and I was pleased to see the saddlery was still going strong. 

There were loads of flies in Tenterfield and they were a feature of our next drive on to Tamworth. It was fascinating the way the scenery changed as we drove through Celtic Country - Glen Innes, Glencoe, Ben Lomond. The landscape became rocky with brown grass but the flies didn't let up as this is cattle and sheep country, in fact they peaked when we stopped to change drivers at Armidale, so much so we did not bother to look at the town but got back in the car as quickly as possible.

 We passed through Guyra, which has an annual Lamb and Potato Festival and is home to the Big Lamb (it can't be that big because we couldn't find it) and boasts the highest caravan park in Australia at 4330ft above sea level.

 On through Uralla, home of the Big Soldier and the burial place of Captain Thunderbolt the notorious bushranger until we reached Tamworth, the country music capital of Australia.
Apart from the Big Golden Guitar and a visitor centre lined with guitars signed by the likes of Dolly Parton and Kenny Rodgers, Tamworth was a bit ordinary really. Just another big town with a lot of flies. 

 Next stop Fraser Island. Dogs are not allowed on the island so we left Monty with a permanent resident on our campsite who dog sits and set of for our pick up point at Rainbow Beach. 

We had decided to go on one of the organised tours we were able to book at our site and it was certainly the right choice if, like us, you are restricted to one day. It is possible to camp on Fraser Island but that would have involved kennels, permits and so on. It was also sensible from a financial point of view because the tour cost $137 each which included ferry, lunch, coffee and all sightseeing whereas if we had visited independently the ferry alone would have been $160.

 John picked us up in the 4WD bus which held about 40 people and told us he was our guide for the day and gave us a bit of a run down on the structure of our day then we were on the barge for the 20 minute crossing.
It was a bit of a grey day which was not great for photos but good for trooping around as we did not have to worry too much about hats and other paraphernalia required on a sunny day in Australia.  

The bus drove quite quickly over 20km of golden beach as we all kept a keen eye out for dingoes, then took a track inland to the resort where we were to start with coffee and muffins. John was strict with the timing with forfeits in place for anyone late back to the bus and it became apparent how important it was for everyone to stick to the schedule as the day unfolded. So, 20 minute coffee break then back on the bus over bumpy sand tracks through the tall trees on the outer edges of the island. These trees were used for logging unbelievably right up until 1991 when Fraser Island became World Heritage listed. The best trees for the industry were the huge Satinay trees, luckily they were only chopped down if they were perfectly straight so they are still some huge ones left that were a bit too bent or twisted to be of any use to the loggers. I cannot imagine how these enormous trees were cut down in the early days with only hand saws available then dragged through the bumpy tracks and along the beach to be loaded onto rafts headed for the mainland. I can only assume each tree fetched a large amount of money!

 The bus stopped at Lake McKenzie, which was glorious, turquoise water and pure white sand. Lake McKenzie is a perched lake, formed when organic matter has settled in a sand crater and formed a seal which prevents the water from disappearing through the sand. The water is crystal clear and feels soft somehow and your skin feels soft too when you have swum in it. We were allocated 50 minutes here then back to the bus stopping only to marvel at the huge dingo proof fence around the eating area for the little camping spots dotted around (also fenced). The fencing disappointed Ian who has camped here in the past before Health and Safety reared its head but I think I would be happier knowing I wasn't going to be sharing my sleeping bag with a dingo.

 Back on the bus over really bumpy terrain this time, the trees changed as we approached Central Station and the sub tropical rain forest. The changing botany of the island is incredible, it is only a small sand island but the trees differ markedly as you head towards the centre. There are over 40 lakes on the island and it is home to over half the world's perched lakes and there are also numerous creeks which flow out into the sea.
The walk through the rainforest was my favourite part of the day. It was beautiful and so green it made your eyes hurt, the staghorn ferns were the biggest I have ever seen but oddly we did not see any birds, quite a few funnel web spider holes but no birds. 
The whistle stop tour continued with lunch back at the resort, John announced this with, "it is an all you can eat buffet so you backpackers on a budget who have been living on noodles for months take note I said ALL YOU CAN EAT".

 They certainly took him seriously, one slender girl was finishing her third plateful when it was time to get back on the bus and climbed aboard munching a fistful of bread rolls!
We took in the coloured sands, the wreck of the SS Meheno beached in 1935 and drifted down a creek to the sea then back along the 20kms of beach looking for dingoes (we didn't see a single one) and onto the barge for home. A fantastic day out, I would highly recommend it.