Richmond and Salamanca

Richmond is about as historic as Australia gets. Australia’s oldest bridge (built by convicts) from 1823, a jail from 1825, a church built in 1834, cemeteries with headstones dating back to 1846, and all in a chocolate box pretty setting with a river full of ducks (which chased the kids for quite some way, trying to grab the bread out of their hands), quaint little shops and galleries.

Salamanca market is apparently the place to be on a Saturday. When we asked directions of a local, she told us to follow her. Oh, I said, are you going there too? Yes, she replied, what else is there to do here on a Saturday morning? She’s obviously never heard of lying in bed with the papers and a plate of toast, or maybe a plate of oysters would be more appropriate here. Anyway, I digress. The market is not particularly interesting, full of tourist tat, but behind the buildings is Salamanca Square where we were taken by surprise at the sight of a band of merry men and women very enthusiastically Morris dancing. Been a while since I’ve witnessed that particular delight.

Tasmania - Launceston

There’s two ways to get to Tasmania from Melbourne, a one-hour flight to or an 11-hour ferry crossing. The original idea was that we all cross by ferry (since we need to get the car over there) but the cost for this is $400 each plus about $60 for the car. The flights, on the other hand, are less than $100 each, return. I decide that I’d rather take the plane and get the kids in bed in the shortest time possible and Will decides that he’d quite like 11 hours of cave time on the ferry, so it works out perfectly. We get to spend the night at the Launceston Country Club and he gets to spend the night in a shared cabin, in a bunk bed. Apparently, the 3 others he was sharing with were snoring all night. Now he knows how I feel. And whilst we’re all still waking up in the morning, he’s making the 100km drive from the ferry terminal to collect us from Launceston.

We get some terrible weather due to hurricane winds coming across the Bass Straight from Melbourne which has cut off 200,000 homes from power, closed major bridges and killed 2 people. We abort our planned trips to the platypus house and seahorse world and instead visit the wineries of Jansz and Pipers Brook (also home to 9th Island).

Launceston is a strange place. I hope Dave Bracey will forgive me for saying that it’s stuck in the 70’s (maybe that’s why you left, Dave?). Lots of mullet haircuts, time-warp menus and restaurants, if you can find any, that close on Sundays.

We spoke to a few people who know Launceston and asked for some recommendation of things to see and do and no one seems to be able to come up with anything other than Cataract Gorge. Off we go then.

A chairlift up a very pretty Gorge and over an open air swimming pool that would be gorgeously located were the weather warmer (although, in fact, were the weather warmer, we’d swim in the gorge, not the pool), then an uphill climb for a birds eye view of the surroundings. A gentle walk back down via the restaurant and a very nice lunch makes us a bit more forgiving of Launceston.

Hobart

Down to the south of the island now for a few days in Hobart. I’ve found a cottage on a vineyard, right next to a beach just a few miles outside town and it’s lovely. There’s a selection of their home-grown olives and a few bottles of wine in the cottage along with a an honesty box for you to pay for whatever extras you’ve consumed. Lots of lovely extra touches like mohair rugs for the chilly evenings and picnic hampers plus Wendy, the owner tells us that we can walk down to the waters edge and collect our own oysters, straight off the riverbed. I’m not big into oysters, but Will’s been known to schuck a few (48 in one go once) so we set off with our bag and instantly pick up a dozen huge oysters out of the water. Very organic. Waling back to the cottage with our prize, we come across the bones of a couple of sheep, long since mauled, and Harley is intensely interested in how all the pieces might fit together, especially the jaws and scull. He collects a bag of bones and brings them up to the cottage to play with and we later find him outside, banging the two jaws together and knocking the teeth out as Ruby observes, giggling. Feral children.

Ballarat

We’ve been told that we should take the kids to Sovereign Hill, just outside Ballarat, which was the location of heavy gold mining in the 1850’s. The town has been recreated and, apart from being a tourist attraction, is actually very educational. We learn about the gold fever that ran through these parts, how the gold was mined and refined and lots more besides.

There’s even a bonus for Will. The motel we’re staying at has a sign in the grounds saying “Royal Tennis Court”. Further investigation shows this to be one of only 3 real tennis (Will’s favourite sport) courts in Australia and he even manages to get himself a game. I was very impressed by the 89 year old who showed us around the court and who took up Real Tennis aged 66 and still plays.

Lorne

We’re driving to Lorne to meet up with our Aussie gang for a final weekend en masse for quite some time….sob!

Nicky, Andy and Cooper are flying in from Sydney whilst Moni, Rob and the kiddies are making the 13 hour drive from Adelaide. We’ve rented the most fantastic house with a fab view out to sea and a massive living area (all open plan, such is the typical Aussie house) upstairs with bedrooms downstairs. We even get flocks of wild cockatoos and cockatiels landing on the railing of the huge outdoor balcony and eating from our hands.

Once the kids were in bed each evening, it was like the good old days - before everyone left us for fairer shores. I get back into my cooking, which I’d been missing and we all get stuck into way too much booze. I still can’t look a bottle of bubbles in the face after last weekend so sensibly stick to gin and tonics, leaving me hangover free in the morning (which is more than can be said for poor ole Nicky). I even managed to win the game of poker.

Saturday morning, I use my bad back as an excuse to sneak off to Endota Spa with Nicky for a massage and facial (yes, I know facials don’t help bad backs but hey…) whilst the boys take the kids to the trampolines and meet up for lunch at the Lorne Hotel.

A hilarious game of Name Game fills our evening. Andy wins the Koo Stark/who starts? award for worst heard name and Moni, the Ewar Woowar/Candice Spelling (mother of Tori, apparently) award for ridiculousness. You had to be there. A good old lazy Sunday morning breakfast, another visit to the trampolines and fish and chips at the side of the beach rounds off a pretty perfect weekend.

Rob manages the drive home in 8 ½ hours and we decide to stay extra night in our luxurious pad. We’re all sad to say our goodbyes but I’m going to try and sneak a flight back to Adelaide in 2 weeks when Will returns to Melbourne to meet up with his friends.

Rutherglen and Melbourne

Places to stay here are few and far between so we end up in a faceless motel with such a soft bed that my back is knackered, again.

Yet another wine region, this one famous for its muscats, including Cambells who produce my mum’s favourite wine, the delicious Cambells Rutherglen Muscat. A visit and a purchase here, followed by the same at All Saints would seem like we’re heading for a nice day. But no. Harley whinged and moaned for the entire day and Ruby left her new fleece in the motel meaning we had to do over an hours detour to collect it. I’m ready to quit for the first time in 7 months!!

After a 4-hour drive, we arrived in Melbourne, in the rain. My back is killing me, the kids are driving me insane, the traffic isa nightmare and, unusually, we don’t have any pre-booked accommodation. Fortunately, I spy some Oaks apartments; a chain which we’ve previously stayed in and they have always been great. It’s over our budget but I don’t care, I just want the day to end!

I’ve never really liked Melbourne, I don’t know why. Maybe because it’s always raining when I come, or because it reminds me of New York; everyone in a hurry, the yellow cabs and skyscrapers.

It’s very autumnal here and getting cold which means fleeces on for the first time and, of course the rain macs get pulled out from the bottom of our bags.

A long walk might make me change my mind about poor old Melbourne, so we cut through alleys, give Harley his last haircut of the trip and equip the kids with Converse. Lunch in an Italian restaurant, a walk across to Federation Square, and a bottle of bubbly at Southbank which doesn’t go down well. Too much Easter weekend boozing.

Only one thing for it – shop. I leave Will to finish off the bubbles and treat myself to a very expensive duck down pillow and equally expensive Egyptian cotton pillowcases (and then threw away the receipt evidence before I walked in the door) which I shall carry with me for the next 6 months. I’m hoping it will ease some of my back issues. And if not, it’s always nice to lie on Egyptian cotton!

Canberra

Our good friends Matt and Donna moved over here in June with their sons Max and Sam (5) and daughter Mary (just 2) and they now have a new addition to the family, a Great Dane called Ugly Betty (5 months).

There’s nothing much to see or do in Canberra since it was purpose built to house the government. But fortunately, Donna cooks like Nigella Lawson and Matt has a box at the Brumby’s, Canberra’s rugby team. So whilst the boys are out at the Brumby’s, the girls (Nick, Donna, her friend Kerry and I), have dinner and drink some wine. Well,that was the plan. Unfortunately, by the time we’d sunk a few bottles of wine, no one could be bothered to cook and the evening ended with me falling drunkenly down the stairs, before sitting up and slurring (to Donna and Kerry who hadn’t moved from their seats) “I’m sh’alright”.

No one’s really in the right frame of mind to take the kids to Questicon (Canberra’s answer to the Science Museum) the next morning, but we all haul ourselves out of bed and manage a couple of hours there. Fortunately, Matt and Donna’s house is huge and the kids can amuse themselves for hours so we’ve all managed to have a bit of a sleep-in to get rid of our thick heads. A more sedate evening follows with a bit of Perudo, which I thrash the boys at, again.

Easter morning and according to Figgis family tradition, the Easter Bunny, comes first thing in the morning and leaves eggs in the garden. So 7am sees Donna and myself outside, hiding chocolate eggs in every flowerbed, crack and crevice, which leaves the kids to gorge on chocolate whilst we laze on the balcony in the sunshine, admiring the mountainous view.

My birthday

In thinking about where I would celebrate my birthday, Will had suggested the Blue Mountains and I had nearly choked on my muesli (my spell-checker doesn’t recognise my spelling of the word muesli and suggests instead that I use the word Muslim. I’d like to make it clear that I did not choke on my Muslim). If we’ve learnt anything about ourselves on this trip it’s that Will is happiest surrounded by beautiful scenery (which is obviously why he’s with me) and I’m happiest surrounded by life form of a more human nature. He’s happy walking up hill and down dale and I’m happy walking into deli’s and boutiques. Which is why we find ourselves celebrating my birthday in Sydney with Nicky and Andy.

We’re having dinner at Marque, one of Sydney’s best restaurants (where, as a non-meat eater, I was labelled as an aquatarian. Surely that means I only eat fish?) which we’d heard was a BYO (you can take your own wine). We didn’t realise that you’re only meant to take one bottle per table and turned up with 6. Fortunately, they let us off with a warning and we also bought a bottle from them just to appease our guilt.

I’d wanted to spend my actual birthday sailing around Sydney harbour, but this worked out to be so ridiculously expensive that we just took a gorgeous picnic and champagne to Balmoral beach instead. Some beach tennis and frisbee, swimming and sunbathing with our friends made for a perfect day.

Sydney

Yay, we’re down to Nicky and Andy’s for 10 days. They’re in Dulwich Hill, just west of the city, and it’s great to be in a place like Sydney but living like a local. Sydney, like London, could be a big scary place but instead we’re treated to the delights of Leichardt (lesbian capital of Australia. Will I have anything to prove here, I wonder?) where we sample not only the best coffee but also the best Italian food.

Nicky’s works in the media business and we’re invited to the premier of the new Dr Seuss movie, Horton Hears A Who. There were apparently quite a few Aussie celebrities sharing the red carpet with us, but I wouldn’t have known any of them. There’s no Heat magazine here you know.

It’s Sunday, it’s Sydney. What do locals do? Go to the beach of course. Beach of choice, the beautiful Bronte complete with bogey hole (a natural large rock pool which fills with water as the waves come in and out and provides a perfect kiddie paddling pool).

The next few days see us visiting gorgeous Manly (note to self: could definitely live here) and Bondi beaches and the Rocks (the first European settlement). No visit to Sydney is complete without a trip to the Opera House, so we do. Even though we’ve been here several times before, there’s something very special about this place. The architecture is outstanding, even after all this time, and the views amazing.

I love the North Shore and we revisit Ripples restaurant, just below the Olympic swimming pool with the most amazing view under the Sydney Harbour Bridge and across to the Opera House. The sunsets behind us completes an idyllic spot, only spoiled, in Ruby’s opinion, by the fact that Luna Park (funfair) is closed.

Bill Granger is a celebrity chef here and his three restaurants serve the most delicious breakfasts. We choose the Woolahra branch one and go for a total carb overload; the ricotta hotcakes with maple syrup can’t be beaten. Well, not unless you count his sweet corn fritters. Yummy.

With a few more days here, we visit Darling Harbour and the Saturday morning Victoria Market and take the ferry from Circular Quay to Manly.

So we’ve done all the touristy stuff, what’s next? Ah yes, flex the credit card at Bondi Junction shopping centre and go to Aveda for some long overdue care and attention to my hair in preparation for my birthday.

Hunter Valley

Wine country, again. Highlight of the trip - Roberts restaurant (www.robertsrestaurant.com), a gorgeous little cottage so covered in vines it’s difficult to find the entrance. The tiny wooden entrance opens out to an extended glass room backing onto a gorgeous garden. It’s truly sublime. Unlike England, they’re very relaxed about the kids just wandering around outside whilst waiting for their food.

Just across the path is Pepper Tree Wines, which may well have won more than 500 medals for its wine but, unusually, we didn’t find anything that tickled our fancy. Maybe that was because we’d just been so spoiled over lunch.

Two final stops. First at Tyrells where a 75cl of port costs $15 or a 10 litre bottle costs $85. Figuring we’ve got a good block of time coming up where we going to be with friends, we opt for the latter. Final stop of the day is the Blue Tongue brewery where Will can stock up on his currently favourite beer.

Our apartment for the night at Pokolbin Chateau (sadly not a chateau at all) affords us not only stunning sunset views across lakes, but also provides us with our own little family of wild kangaroos who hop by for a nibble of our lawn. What a lovely day.

Port Stephens

We’re staying in a Eco-lodge (www.wanders-retreat.com.au) as it sounds so lovely. Wooden cabins, set amongst Eucalyptus trees with koalas often spotted nearby and just a 5 minute walk to the beach. It’s all as lovely as promised, including the koalas who kindly fall asleep in a nearby tree on the short walk to One Mile Beach, but we’re all struggling with the rotaloo. It looks like a normal toilet, except that, instead of a bowl beneath your bottom, there’s a 5 foot drop to the ground where a blade rotates everything a few times a day. Not only are we all paranoid about being bitten on the bottom by a mossie/red back/snake, we’re becoming constipated by our refusal to use it, except in emergencies. I’m still feeling sick from my drugging and the thought of hanging my head over that toilet should I need to is enough to prompt me to the internet café to find our next hotel, this time one of the Mantra hotels, right in town. It’s gorgeous, although not at all Eco-friendly. Great apartment, great pool and a fully flushing toilet, putting us all in such a great mood, we’re up for a spot of sand-surfing. A 4-wheel drive takes us out to the sand dunes on Stockton Bight, the longest moving sand dunes in the southern hemisphere, stretching 35km up to Newcastle. It’s an awesome sight with an eerie yellow glow rising off the dunes and, as we drive into them, you can get a real feeling of being in the desert. We’re dropped at the top of a steep hill of sand, given a board which we park our bottoms on and whoosh, we’re off! It’s exhilarating flying down the sand dunes but very hot, hard work hiking back up. The kids cope admirably with the both the heat and the hike, it’s only Will and I who are out of breath by the time we get back to the top. Suitably exhilarated, we head to Samurai Beach (clothing optional) and, finding that you need a 4-wheel drive to get there, decide to park the car and walk through. Fortunately for us, we’d only been walking for a minute when a couple in a 4-wheel drive pull up and offer us a lift. Very lucky indeed, since it was a good 5 minute off-piste drive before we hit the beach. A naked dip revives us sufficiently to make us wonder how we’re going to get back to the car and I’m just thinking about shaking my booty at one of the fat-bellied, small-willied men that seem to be suddenly prowling this stretch of beach when Will realises that we’re just a short scramble across the rocks to One Mile Beach, which is much closer to the road. Slightly too late, we realise that the tide is coming in and cutting off our path over the rocks and we end up battling with the tide, holding Ruby in one hand, bag containing camera and phone high above my head in the other, and managing to slice my foot open on a rock in the process. A lovely walk along the beach and a short walk over the dunes to the road just leaves Will to go and collect the car. As he trots off into the distance, I flag down a car and ask the guy to please pick him up and drop him off where our car is parked. Sure thing he says, just as soon as I’ve finished my phone call (ok, I didn’t flag him down, he happened to be stopping nearby to take a call and I leaned in through the window, but which one makes a better story, huh?). I was disappointed to notice that he didn’t even slow down as he passed a puffing Will. We find a some tea rooms on the top of the cliff at Nelson Head giving us a fantastic lunch-time view and Will’s determined to get us all hiking to the top of the local peninsular for spectacular views and possible sightings of dolphins or whales. We think we got lucky but upon closer inspection our sighting turns out to be people in kayaks.

Sydney Mardi Gras

Meanwhile, I’d made my way to Sydney to meet up with Nicky and found myself standing amongst some eye-popping outfits modelled by quite a few hotties but also a fair share of notties.

The parade was amazing, starting with the Dykes on Bikes and ranging through to a rainbow of nuns, muscle bound honey’s in their red Speedos (hilariously known as budgie smugglers here) and most of the men more glamorous than the women.

I seem to attract attention from both Arthur and Martha as the group of lesbians we find ourselves standing amongst tell me that they’ve been debating whether my nipples are real (I give them a flash and let them judge for themselves) and then a rather cute, albeit camp guy marching past decides to stop and snog me. I’m not complaining, even though I have a pretty good idea of where his tongue’s previously been.

All’s going well until I’m passed a bottle of wine by an overly-friendly Geordie and shortly afterwards, my legs buckle under me and I can’t even stand up, let alone walk. Fortunately, Nicky’s 6ft dad and his brother were there to carry me back to a cab. Seems I was victim to this charmer’s Mickey Finn. Serves me right for drinking wine straight from the bottle, so uncouth!

Newcastle

I’m not planning on staying here long as I’m driving 3 hours down to Sydney to go to Mardi Gras (so I don't have any photos and offer you this one of the car instead), so I find a good apartment to cover my guilt, knowing that Will will be left alone for 24 hours with the kids. I also do a huge shop in preparation for my departure.

I leave at 12pm and am back by 10.30am the following day. I return to find the apartment looks like a bomb’s gone off, Harley has a badly scarred knee and Ruby has gone out with unbrushed hair, but at least they’re all glad to see me.

Port Maquarie

Interesting thing about Port Maquarie; the rocks which make up the sea breakwall are all covered in graffiti/loving messages/RIP’s. Uninteresting things
on our visit; it’s pouring with rain which doesn’t make for pleasant viewing conditions of this or Nambucca heads, the local, gorgeous surfy beaches. So we head straight for Southwest Rocks lighthouse, 50km away, which affords a fantastic 360 degree view across the bays. Slightly unfortunate then, that we take a slight diversion which ends up being 30km of unmade road.

But, since the rain’s stopped, we also do a quick stop at Trial Bay Prison. Originally built to house well behaved convicts whose main task was to construct a breakwater around the bay, it was last used to house Germans during World War 1.

Coffs Harbour

Australia spawns a host of Big things: the Big Banana started it all 40 years ago and is now joined by the Big Prawn, the Giant Gumboot, the Big Mango, the Big Pineapple, the Giant Rocking Horse (and these are just a few of the ones we've spotted at the side of the road)....the list goes on. The rule for a Big thing is quite simple - it must be man-made and larger than the actual thing it is replicating. We still can't work out the appeal of these things but for some reason, they're on the to-see-list of many visitors here. Bad news about the Big Banana “tourist attraction”, chocolate coated bananas. The good news, it has a fantastic toboggan ride that we can go hurtling round at huge speed with the kids wedged between our knees. Ruby started out slightly wary and soon decided she wanted to swap drivers in the (mis-guided) belief that Will would go faster than I did.

A short drive takes us to Bangalow, a cute little one street town full of boutique shops and the most fantastic place for lunch – Utopia – where the menu was so amazing we ordered too many dishes just so we could have a taste of each. All were scrumptious.

We’re off to go horse riding in Valery which is deep, deep in the forest, accessed via narrow dirt roads with furiously speeding logging trucks hurtling towards us. Harley gets his first proper pony ride, Ruby her first horse ride and I get back on horse for first time in years. A lovely ride through the forest gives us all a taste for more and we’re plotting a way to go horse riding on the beach.

We take the kids to the Pet Porpoise Pool which is absolutely brilliant. A seal comes out and gives us all kisses; we can walk around to the dolphin pool and get a kiss there too (from a dolphin, not a dolphin handler, unfortunately); there’s a dolphin show where both Will and I are (separately) dragged up to make fools of ourselves (ok, I wasn’t dragged up, I just happen to like making a fool of myself in front of dozens of people); show-off seals and penguin feeding. It’s a fantastic place.

So a final day in Coffs Harbour. How shall we spend our day? Will has a great idea. Let’s have lunch at the fisherman’s co-op, a fantastic place which is where all the local fishermen bring their catch. You choose your fish and have it cooked any way you like. And BYO too, so you can bring a bottle of wine and sit outside overlooking the harbour as you stuff your face. Let’s walk it off by climbing up Mutton Bird Island, he says. 2,000 mutton birds nest here. We climb up and walk to the far edge and keep our eyes peeled for incoming mutton birds. How many do we see? 2,000? No. 200? No. 20? No. 2. Yes, 2. We’ve just hiked up Mutton-fucking-Bird Island to see 2,000 Mutton Birds and we’ve seen 2. I bite my tongue and trudge down again. Will 1, Karen 1.

The scenic route to Coffs Harbour

We take the scenic route, as ever, via Maclean, resplendent with a different Tartan painted onto the bottom of each of the telegraph poles. It’s a one horse town, full of touristy shops and cafes, all of which are closed (except for a fish and chip shop) as it’s now 1pm on a Saturday afternoon and they all close at midday. Bizarre. Own touristy shop in touristy town and close on the busiest day of the week?

Next stop, Red Rock. Formally an aboriginal settlement and the site of lots of bloodshed, it’s now just a very beautiful estuary with a huge sandbank in the middle and a wooden boardwalk through the wetlands all along the edge. The kids were delighted to notice loads of crabs which have one overly large, bright red or blue claw, all scuttling along the edge. I wasn’t so delighted to notice that the mossies were starting to attack as this damp, grassy area obviously made perfect breeding grounds. Harley decides he wants to go for a swim which necessitates Will negotiating a very slippery and muddy riverbank with Harley in one arm and Ruby and I trekking back with all their clothes and shoes. Will’s so enamoured by the place that he wants to stay the night. What’s here apart from the river? A small park with a BBQ area and a camping site. Shop? No. Anywhere to eat? No. Does this make Will change his mind? No. Impractical as ever he insists we don’t worry about all of that and just ask at the camp site if they have a spare cabin. I insist we carry on to Coffs Harbour before it gets dark and everything closes. So you can imagine my delight when we arrive just half an hour later and I manage to secure us a large 3 bed, 4 ½ star apartment (yes, they do have half stars here) for the night, right opposite a supermarket and next to half a dozen restaurants. Karen 1, Will 0. Unfortunately, we have to move into our pre-booked accommodation the next morning which turns out to be not quite so nice. A motel next to the motorway, for the next 4nights, with a restaurant called Basil’s and a conference room called Manuel’s. You get the picture. Oh well, at least we’re staying right next door to…The Big Banana. Da da da!!