Sky is the limit

Our next destination was the Sporties Club in Tuncurry, highly recommended by the trusty FB forum and one of the  many ‘free camping’ options that exist in regional towns (particularly those in the eastern states.)  The cost was $5 per person per night with an arbitrary maximum stay of 48 hours (negotiable in quieter times we found) with an expectation that you will support said business. The fact that this one incorporated a large Bowls Club did not go unnoticed when Russell was helping to choose our next stay

The dedicated ‘self contained vehicles’ car park had about four other rigs parked up when we arrived and we found a nice level grassy spot within spitting distance of  the palatial club (compared to Willunga Bowls) and Russell put his name down for bowls whilst I checked out the facilities.

The two towns of Tuncurry and Forster (pronounced ‘Foster’) straddle either side of the confluence of the Coolongolook and Wallamba rivers and we were to discover are home to many wealthy retirees who seem to play bowls most days of the week.

Over the next couple of days we more than paid for our cheap parking spot with a couple of dinners in the Club and $20 worth of meat raffle tickets for the 42 (yes 42) meat trays on offer five nights of the week! Alas we didn’t manage to win one but the anticipation was well worth it 😂

Both towns afforded multiple fishing spots off wharves and breakwaters and we tossed our lines in one night with our usual results – a pleasant time but no edible results. 

Unusual weather conditions were producing huge surf (which would continue for the next few days as we moved further north) and I managed a couple of walks along the coast whilst Russell was playing bowls, the waves were thundering in, providing a great spectacle. The other really impressive facility that I noticed was the dog training park which is almost adjacent to Sporties. It is fully fenced and contained what looked like permanent agility obstacles within a huge leash free area as well as a smaller one for less adventurous pups. It was being well utilised every time I walked past, wish we had something similar at home.

Our final full day in Tuncurry was another bowls day for Russell and very fortuitously for me, sunny and almost windless. Russell strolled across the car park (so very convenient this spot) and I loaded up the Jimny with morning tea and my drone backpack and drove south toward Booti Booti National Park.

I drove past several access paths to the beach and choosing one at random I parked and walked the 300 metres or so through to an absolutely gorgeous expanse of pristine beach with shimmering aquamarine seas and not a soul in sight.

Given that NSW Parks require 10 days notice for drone permission (!) I whipped it out somewhat surreptitiously but couldn’t see how I could be offending anyone…..

I think it was worth it 😉

I continued on to the beachside community of Bluey’s Beach, stopping at various vantage points along the way, each one affording stunning coastline.

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I think Russell lost bowls but had a pleasant afternoon nevertheless.

On Wednesday we moved on to Port Macquarie where the Moho was to have the washing machine replaced. We found the very helpful but awkwardly situated Caramart Caravans & Trailers (on the wrong side of the highway on a steep corner) but eventually left the Moho in their care whilst we went to find our caravan park. NRMA Breakwall proved to be situated in a wonderful spot, adjacent to the breakwater and a very short stroll into town and we had lunch and a wander around until we got the call to say that the Moho was ready to collect.

The breakwater is lined with painted rocks (we were to see this practice in several other seaside towns) varying from works of art to works in progress but they provided an interesting spectacle as we strolled along chatting to some of  the many fisherman and learned that the bream were running and that mullet is the go to bait.

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Arming ourselves with said mullet, the next afternoon we found a spot on the town wharf where some very friendly locals helped us save Russell’s fishing rod from drowning after a little misadventure… Despite lasting long enough to see a nice sunset after Russell had left to prepare dinner, I failed to catch anything.  I did however go home with a nice bream which my new friend Michael insisted  I take – he “has a freezer full and is after something bigger” – so with teeth chattering I gave up at about 7.30 pm and went home. 

This is why it is called fishing not “catching.”

With bowls on the agenda again the next day, after doing the ‘housework’ (yes there still is some,) I set off to cover a chunk of the local coastal walk.

Big seas had the surfies out in droves and I watched the various levels of expertise on display for quite awhile before reaching Flynn’s beach where I was just in time to get a cup of tea before the kiosk closed.

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