Gillards Beach and Bendalong

From our campsite looking out to Gillards Beach.

For many different reasons, crossing over the border into New South Wales was very much like turning over the page on what you know is the last chapter of a good book: there was a definite finality to it. All the loose ends were coming together, dates and times for staying with friends were being locked in place and we spoke of having weeks, not months left of this trip.

Gillards Beach.

And once we drove into Eden and traced already trodden steps up that beautiful New South Wales south coast, those feelings of homesickness gave way to something even more terrifying: Christmas loomed ominously and I had not done one thing to prepare for it.  But I got over that pretty quick, there would be plenty of time to indulge in a gorge-fest of materialism in the next two weeks.

Wallaby and joey at our campsite.

Anyway, we drove to Mimosa Rocks National Park, bang in the middle of Merimbula and Bermagui, to an enchanting spot called Gillards Beach. Having become something of a connoisseur of National Park campgrounds, I can confidently say that this particular one is probably in the top five of most awesome spots we’d ever been. Grassy sites and big firepits  sit on the top of treed dunes overlooking the blue Pacific Ocean and golden sands. Wallabies graze around the sites, echidnas search for ants and birds like lorikeets and blue wrens flit about the bush.

Camp

Mossy Mimosa Rocks.

The weather played along, even providing a few of those awesome cathartic afternoon thunderstorms which reveal a fresh and sparkling world the next morning where there had only been the steamy sweat of humidity the day before. We fished (Fiela caught some very good sized herring) gathered oysters and threw them on the fire in the shell, swam, surfed, played on the sand and generally enjoyed ourselves.  Even the drop loo played along by not stinking that much. Sigh, this place was great but weatherzone was telling us that rain was coming and it wasn’t going to go again for a while, so we packed up and headed to our next stop on the northern side of Ulladulla.

Idyllic days...

But it's not all beer and skittles: tandem naughty corner action.

Really? You can't throw rocks at people? Close up? At all???

Bendalong is another beautiful spot, at a much more expensive campsite but with a waterpark, jumping pillow and all the other natural coastal playgrounds you could imagine. We set up just in time to avoid a horrendous downpour and hunkered down for what followed- about three days of wind and rain. Sure the sun came out just to almost dry everything out and allow us to go for a swim at the beach, but the weather was in general, soul destroying. On the upside, we had internet and power, so there was a fair-sized ABCKids fest going on in the camper, Fiela had ‘the most epic surf ever’, caught a heap of fish off the kayak and we watched as the kangaroos boxed on the lawn in front. This was another five days of great camping, despite the torrential rain.

Looking out to Washerwoman's Beach, a beautiful protected little bay at Bendalong.

And with the end of those few nights began the eating, drinking and socialising games as the Uyshuis stared down the barrel of over a week in the relative luxury of three solid homes and the hospitality of  friends and family.

Birds hassled us for food...

...which they got.

Grey kangaroos

 The rest of these pictures are of two male grey kangaroos 'boxing'. A few of the females were on heat, so the boxing happened regularly and as with the human world, the girls looked on thinking "What a pair of idiots!"

Some feral camp kid terrorising the streets.

A dry moment at camp.

Sydney Part 3. The Good and the Sad

The fourth day of our Sydney jaunt was spent generally getting ready for the nuptials on Saturday, chilling out and taking advantage of chain stores… When Fiela’s nephew had come over for dinner, I told him that one of the things I was really enjoying about being in Sydney and in a house was the opportunity to put earrings on, some makeup and in general get a little dressed up. To which he cocked an eyebrow and said in thinly veiled disbelief: “Really? These are your good clothes??” After I slapped him, I realised that yes, it was time for some new duds.  I’d chosen clothes for this trip which, really, were already close to their useby date, but we were going camping: you don’t take your good stuff!? Now, three months in, I’ve realised you do need something better than a holey t-shirt and your denim skirt (‘good’ because it’s cleaner than the other one) to feel as though you’ve made an effort to dress up for dinner. So I managed to find a few new t-shirts, asked my Mum to bring up a dress for me to wear to the wedding (my parents were to arrive for the weekend on Friday, luckily I’d left a dress with them when we left on the trip) and bought a pair of $15 heels from Kmart. Dress up done.

Ooooweee I see a hangover on the horizon involving a Tannie and two small children!

Fiela and I also took the opportunity to have Tannie Karen look after the kids while we headed up Glebe Pt Road for some 'alone time': shopping at St Vinnies, the swankiest op-shop (or ACVV) I’ve seen in a long time. Everything was colour coded and even the attendants had a trendy look about them. What a cool shop- getting new shoes for Fiela for a one-off affair when he’s usually in thongs is pretty pointless, especially with space to store them at such a premium. But we managed to get an excellent pair of Florshem lace ups for him for $25, a pair of leather boots for Marguerite at $6 and a pair of cute converse type shoes for Caesar, $3. Suddenly the Uys Huis is looking a whole lot better, even if we’re in Sydney’s society cast offs!

Marguerite rocking out her boots and dress (thanks Tannie Karen) to a busker in Circular Quay.

As a happy coincidence, an old family friend was also getting married in Sydney this weekend, so my brother, his fiancé and my Mum and Dad all arrived on the Friday night at their respective accommodations. Again, the dining room got a work out as I cooked (sticky pork ribs ala Donna Hay) and loved seeing my little brother Pete and Meagan after three months of looking at nothing but strangers save for a few new friends. The attraction of the grandkids had ensured Mum and Dad flew down to Sydney, and Marguerite and Caesar were in Nirvana, having Nana AND Poppy ANNND Tannie Karen ANNNND this new bloke (the ‘smoker’ says Marguerite) Stefan who all seemed interested in what they had to say and were happy to look at trucks or fairy stickers. And whilst I knew we would be in for the biggest Nana/Poppy/Tannie Hangover of all time when we got back to our campertrailing reality, Fiela and I lapped it up. We even missed out on wiping the shitty bums of our children once or twice. How blissful!!

The flowers.

Anyway, WeddingDay arrived and like any good soap opera there were close calls and tense moments. The bulk of these occurred around Sydney’s transport system and our negotiation of it. All I’ll say is for shit’s sake I’d rather poke needles in my eyes than HAVE to be somewhere and try to rely on Sydney transport to get me there. Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yes, people in love….

The Groom and Mother of.

The vibe.

The location.

Vaucluse House.

Some hotties I met at the wedding.

People in love look really beautiful, especially if they get married on a stunning day in a gorgeous location. Christian and Samantha looked radiant and ecstatically happy and we wish them all the best for the future! They had their ceremony at Vaucluse House amongst gorgeous landscaped gardens and their reception at Woolfies Bar and Grill in The Rocks. We had to drop the kids off at the house in Glebe after the ceremony and head back (via ferry) to The Rocks. Luckily for us the Vivid Light Festival was on, and as a result we had the most amazing view of the city as lights of all description and colour decorated the buildings and bridge. Their reception overlooked the Opera House, so we had an amazing light show, fantastic food, great people and generally an awesome time! Thanks Mr and Mrs Winkler!!!

Best thing about the wedding according to Marguerite??
The girl in the big white dress and the pink and purple helium filled balloons.

The next day was slow for everyone. Even the kids (thank God) had a sleep in. After a massive breakfast with the works and further catchups with Nana, Poppy, Pete and Meagan, we started the worst part of the week- saying our goodbyes. Suddenly the thought of not being able to see my little brother for seven months sunk in, and I don’t really go for more than two months at a time without seeing Mum and Dad: September was four months away and was the best case scenario for our next rendezvous. Of course the kids have a fairly limited concept of time so their hugs and goodbye kisses were pretty standard. For Fiela and I however, the months away had been great but they’d also been pretty long and at times quite lonely- this little Sydney visit had been fortifying and saddening all at once. Of course having a hangover doesn’t help but whatever the case, I was sad to see them all go. And we still had the Afrikaaners to say goodbye to and the timeframe for catch ups with them is ridiculously longer. 

So, eyes wiped, naps had, Miss M and I caught the bus down to Broadway (a big shopping centre at the top of Glebe Pt Road) and bought a few things while Fiela and Caesar slept on. We met up with them at the Fish Markets for sundowners and the most amazing marinara mix I’ve ever seen- vongole, blue swimmer crab and salmon plus much more would be making a heart-healing laksa tonight!

Bondi Beach.

Even the dogs are more relaxed by the beach.

Monday appeared out of nowhere and suddenly it was action stations in the whole What’s Left To Do In Sydney? stakes. What else but a ride out to Bondi? I have very fond memories of visiting my beautiful girlfriends in Sydney when they lived in a terrace house the size of our accommodation’s bathroom, and having wonderful picnics on the hill overlooking Bondi Beach, which is exactly what we did today. Breadstick, ‘fancy’ cheese, prosciutto and a few other things (thanks Karen!) were munched while the kids played with every conceivable type of dog and we watched the sets roll in.

Our vantage point and the massive sets at Bondi, 8 foot ++

And then it was Tuesday morning and teary good byes were the order of the day- and that was just over the wonderful house we were leaving- ha ha!! I love my skoonsussies and in fact ALL my Safa connections; saying goodbye to them is harder because apart from a vague ‘somewhere in 2016 maybe’, we really don’t know when we’ll see them again.

Ferry and Opera House. Had enough icons yet?

We live big when these guys are around, and the intense time together can be very full on. But like the briefest of mango or strawberry seasons, you gorge yourself, satisfied, sad and sick all at the same time. Then two days later you’d do it all over again- liver and blood sugar count to hell!! But depressingly with these people you can’t because while it’s easy to import mangoes and strawberries, South Africans seem to carry a lot more red tape. God knows the kinds of crop decimating diseases they might carry- imagine the enormous calamity which would befall Australia should more people from other countries be allowed to live on our shores!!!???

So ended our joyous week in Sydney- on a wonderful high and a desperate low all at the same time. The even keel of the SS Uys Huis loomed and to be honest, I’m not even sure I was ready to get back on board.

Sydney Opera House, Sydney Harbour Bridge, Sydney city, taken from a Sydney ferry on the Sydney Harbour: take that icon count! BOOOOOM!

Sydney Part 2: Touristy things we did with a pram and a weekly transport pass...

The forshore walk from Jubilee Park, around Glebe Point
and toward Black Watle Cafe, city in the background.

As a group of four adults and two children, our spot in Glebe, Sydney, was pretty well placed. On our first morning (after slow coffees and endless ABC4Kids episodes), we finally made our way down the street to Jubilee Park. At 10am all the Sydneysiders were out: personal trainers and their willing victims, groups of 

pram pushing Mum’s resplendent in Lorna Jane and walkers with their dogs, flat whites and boat shoes, generally enjoying what was a beautifully warm and clear autumn day.

Park fun in a Nana-knitted jumper.

We walked around Glebe Point toward Darling Harbour, stopping off at the Blackwattle Café, a reclaimed house from the early 1800s, sitting in a grassy area overlooking the ANZAC Bridge into the city. We had fantastic coffees and very nice muffins, toast and jam: no cardboard here, just beautiful heavy sourdough.

The menu looked great and this was one of Kathy’s (our landlord at our accommodation) picks of a great eat… They even had a kids’ basket of toys and books, which says not only that children are accommodated, but tolerated with some semblance of pleasure.

The Black Wattle Cafe, ANZAC bridge and Circular Quay in the background

Tall ships in Darling Harbour.

Next on the day’s jobs was a stop at the Sydney Fish Markets. With every other busload of Chinese tourists. It was packed, and I marvelled at how an English language menu can be the only one in full sight yet those of the Asian contingent seemed to have an altogether separate, exotic and better version of what I was reading. Somehow, out of all that seafoody goodness I managed to buy a tray of deepfried OK-ness, while the people one table over had the most unbelievable looking dish- all weird fish, ginger and God knows what else.  We needed an interpreter! Anyway, we also managed to get some great sushi and fresh oysters, no wine though (due to First-Night-Catch-Up Syndrome) and the kids had lots of fun chasing seagulls and then playing in the seagull-poo infested fake grass. Having walked a few kilometres and eaten heaps the general consenus was to head home for afternoon Nana Naps and a recharge before the night’s shenanigans began.

Old and new: got to love some Aussie icons
at Circular Quay.

We had meant to buy a weekly pass for Sydney’s transport system, but on the day’s walk had failed to find a corner store selling them. So, as Murphy states, when we decided to just cheat our way through the two light rail stops to ours, of course Mr I’m-An-Inspector-And-I-Don’t-Care-What-Stupid-Tourist-Card-You’re-Playing-Pay-The-Fare-NOW came along, we all felt a little silly.

Anyway, naps were had and having few plans for dinner we headed up to Glebe Point Road and found ourselves at the Toxteth Hotel. If you haven’t been to Sydney in the last 10 years or so, you won’t know that every second pub is a ‘gastro-pub’ (or awesome place to eat while you down your pale ale) and every other pub has had a makeover worthy of ‘The Block’ or ‘My House Rules’ or ‘Blatant Bunnings Advertisement’ show. The Toxteth seems to be all of these, with some impressive looking meals and a smoking section and bistro area with fern working the walls like something from Carnarvon Gorge. And they didn’t mind that Marguerite and Caesar made a cubby out of some stools and a bench. Noice.

Dinner was me cooking thai for everyone plus Christian, his fiancé and in-laws. The house had its own separate dinning room (fancy!) and we had a lovely time meeting the skoon familie, eating and drinking…

Tannie Karen in action- Marguerite clearly hating the love.

The Uys Huis, the Safas and the Bridge on a ferry. Does it get any more iconic???

The next day, armed with our weekly public transport passes, we made our way via light rail and a ferry ride to Circular Quay and the Manly ferries, via the Luna Park Face (tick), under the Sydney Harbour Bridge (double tick) and passed the Opera House (triple tick). To be immediately stopped by the gate guy and told our passes go everywhere but Manly, and that this had been a pretty recent change. He was very apologetic and even took us aside to say that if it wasn’t for the eight angry looking ticket inspectors behind him (which there were), he’d just let us through. But alas, no.  So we made do with all the other touristy tossers who’d bought the wrong tickets and headed via the harbour to Watson’s Bay instead.

Stefan and Fiela, Watson's Bay in the background.

Marguerite and Sally Fox.

I suppose the best thing about Watson’s Bay is that a short walk up the hill is a lookout over the Pacific Ocean and the mouth of the Sydney Harbour. It’s a beautiful walk along the cliff tops (even if it is a popular top-yourself spot) and there are magnificent views back to the city. We lucked upon one of those temperate sunny blue days and photo opportunities abounded everywhere.

The Heads of Sydney, looking North toward Manly.  (Damn you weekly pass!)

The beautiful view from the top of Watson's Bay back toward the city.

After a play in the park, we headed for excellent burgers, (if a little pricey at $18) beers and a cheeky Mudgee rosé at the Watson’s Bay chic Hotel while we waited for the ferry back to the city. Three times. We kept missing it, having a lovely time looking out over the water and enjoying what is a great pub, even though it’s a little wanky and pretentious. But then it’s hard to get away from that in Sydney… Ha ha!

At the awesome Watson's Bay park.

Still at the park.

Time to leave the park.