Travel Biography - Week 90.

 Continuing in Coffs Harbour.

The last-but-one stop in Australia before arriving in Sydney remains a haven for nature lovers, especially when seeing species not found in my home country of Britain. In these cases, I include the Traveller's Palm, the Mangrove and its varieties of species, and the Banana plantation. As I travelled further south along the East Coast and deeper into the Australian winter, I came across tropical vegetation rather unexpectedly, adding what I consider a bonus.

As I had already mentioned and focused on last week, my highlight in the New South Wales town of Coffs Harbour was the Mangrove Boardwalk. Beneath the wooden platform, the breathing stems, or the pneumatophores jutting out of the root system formed a spikey carpet covering the riverbank. I include an extra photo I took from the boardwalk after accidentally leaving it out from the previous week's blog. Along the boardwalk, I followed the Creek until it emptied out without any fanfare into the Southern Pacific some distance north of the harbour.

Pneumatophoras form a spikey carpet.

Coffs Creek empties into the Ocean.

Muttonbird Island.

The town was located about two miles inland from the coast from where the harbour, whose breakwater connects Muttonbird Island to the mainland. The island itself was designated a nature reserve, and it's accessible to the public. One afternoon or early evening, I stood above a rocky cove at the seaward end of the island and watched the waves dash against the bare rocks. Further out, I saw a pod of whales emerge from the surface playfully as they swam on their annual migration northward from the Antarctic region to the tropics.

Watching the waves of the ocean crash against the immovable headland demonstrates the powerful force of nature and how small and insignificant we humans are, along with our achievements. Indeed, in this part of the world, the huge island Continent might have been colonised by the British a few centuries ago and is now part of the Commonwealth, but as I watched the waves crash against the rocks, I knew that this power of nature could never be conquered. On the contrary, the number of shipwrecks the ocean has claimed throughout the history of marine navigation is without number.

It was on one of these coastal walks when, once again, the heavens opened. Like at Byron Bay, this was no light drizzle but a heavy downpour. In Britain, a heavy downpour usually is of short duration, and it's classed as a shower by the Meteorological Office. Here in NSW, the heavy rain continued on and on, with no sign of letting up. With a desire to return to the hostel, I stood under a shelter and waited for the rain to ease. But it didn't. The downpour continued without any lightning or thunder.

After sheltering for a considerable while, I knew that I would have to accept that I was in for another soaking as I walked the 45 minutes back to the hostel. And so, I took the quickest route along Harbour Drive back into town and to the place of clean clothes, warmth and comfort.

A Visit to a Banana Theme Park and Plantation.

Although I affectionately refer to the town centre of Coffs Harbour as "Bracknell-With-Palm-Trees" for its near-identical development and precinct architecture to that of my home town, Coffs Harbour still had much more than Bracknell could ever offer! My home town of Bracknell began as a rest stop inn for horse-drawn travellers on the road from London to Reading and beyond. The original inn is still there after several centuries - The Old Manor Inn. The road, now the A329, passed through forest and open fields before any development. There never was a major river around the Bracknell area, but a stream, or creek, known as Bull Brook flows northward to this day to eventually join the River Thames at Bray, near the Maidenhead area. Today, Bracknell is a New Town, one of several of the New Town Scheme to relieve London of its residential population. Yet, as I walked through the Coffs Harbour shopping precinct, I couldn't help but feel that I was back at home. The two town centres being so identical at the time yet so far apart geographically was remarkable.

Coffs Harbour from Muttonbird Island.

From Muttonbird Island, a view of the Great Divide.

The Seaward end of Muttonbird Island

Coffs Harbour not only has a river passing nearby, but it's close to the coast, it's the home of mangroves and other tropical vegetation. It also boasts a theme park, known as The Big Banana, and it's located next to a banana plantation. I thought it was worth spending a few hours there on a dry day.

In 1997, the Big Banana was supposed to be "the exciting, unmissable venue" as our hostel once promoted the site. Instead, visitors before me dubbed it as a let-down, a waste of time and money. When I arrived there after a long walk from the hostel, indeed, all I saw was the entrance gate, over it was a giant, five-metre-long banana, hence the name of the park. Within was an open field, some stalls, and a roller coaster at one end.

Earlier this week, I checked out the Big Banana theme park on the internet to refresh memories. I saw that, like at Sentosa Island, the Big Banana had undergone some big changes throughout the last 26 years since my visit. At present, there is a toboggan ride, an ice skating rink, an XD theatre, a giant slide, mini golf, and a water park. None of these facilities existed in 1997. Indeed, The Big Banana could now be seen as "the exciting, unmissable venue" in Coffs Harbour. It has become a smaller version of Singapore's Sentosa Island.

One issue I noticed was the present absence of the roller coaster. Apparently, it was dismantled since my visit. After all, it was rather small and "tame" compared to the modern versions found in the USA. During my time at the Big Banana, there were so few people there that when I boarded a car on the roller coaster, I was offered a second ride for free. Even after the second ride, I was asked by the staff member whether I would like a third ride, also free. This time I declined.

I couldn't help but compare this place with Disneyland, the yardstick of all theme parks. I felt that the Aussies needed to visit America to learn all about theme parks, what they were about, what facilities would draw the crowds, and how to lay on inspiring entertainment that would delight children and adults alike - while making a profit and keeping the business running smoothly. Before the redevelopment, during my visit, the whole site was insipid and practically deserted. For example, mine was the only moving car on the roller coaster, and as if in desperation, I was offered multiple rides. Its modern redevelopment has got me to ask where its owners received such a vision for improvement. Judging by what I read on the Internet, they might have visited Sentosa Island rather than California.

Next to the theme park was a proper banana plantation. Also according to the Internet, the same plantation is thriving to this day, and the public now has access to its grounds. But not in 1997. I was alone back then, and the only one who could see into the plantation as I stood just outside, looking in. The trees had a strong resemblance to the Traveller's Palm, and who knows, the two species might have been related. For some reason, special plastic bags were placed over the green bunch of banana fruit, but with no one around I could talk to, my journalistic instinct remained idle.

Overall, I was impressed with Coffs Harbour, perhaps even more than with Byron Bay. This, I believe was due to the presence of Mangroves and the long boardwalk which gave the visitor a first-hand view of this fascinating vegetive phenomenon. According to my observations, there were no mangrove trees in the Byron Bay area, although I did see a variety of pineapple trees. But, having seen different species of mangroves off Arlie Beach, Brisbane, and Coffs Harbour, along with a hint also at Port Douglas, so far, together with an insight of a banana plantation, this backpacking trip to Australia proved to be educational as well as enjoyable.

A Traveller's Palm, Coffs Harbour.

Approaching the Banana Plantation.

Looking into the Banana Plantation.

Preparing for Sydney.

After three or four days in Coffs Harbour, it was time to move on again. The Greyhound Bus Pass was still valid, but its time was running out. I had to get to Sydney before it expired, as I would be taking off from there for Los Angeles.

Therefore, after three nights spent at YHA Coffs Harbour, I made an advanced booking for a bed at the YHA City Hostel in the heart of Sydney. The journey to get there was an overnight trip, 532 km or just over 330 miles over approximately seven or eight hours including service stops. 

And so, after vacating the YHA Coffs Harbour, I made my way to the rather small bus station which was nearby. That evening, I boarded the bus for the final leg of the journey on the Indo-Pacific Highway.

Dawn was breaking when the bus stopped at Newcastle for a service stop. It seemed strange to me, as I always associate Newcastle, Tyne and Wear, with the North. But where we are, Newcastle NSW is in the south, a city blessed not so much with heavy industry as with the UK's version, but with palm trees. However, it does feature a major port accommodating cruise ships within the River Hunter estuary, according to Google Maps. However, I didn't alight to see the city. Instead, I felt hard-pressed to arrive in Sydney.

Later that morning, the Australian countryside gave way to urbanisation, and it wasn't long before the bus crossed over on Sydney Harbour Bridge. I gasped as we passed the famous Opera House, reflecting a culture of arts which seemed at odds with the classic image of the masculine outback rancher.

Where the bus journey ended in Sydney was something of an anticlimax. I was expecting a huge city bus station. Instead, the bus pulled kerbside on one of the streets, its journey completed, and we all alighted, collecting our luggage and rucksacks.

What I quickly realised was that the bus stopped at a very convenient spot. It was right outside Sydney Central Station. And just across the road from the station was an old office block. Although its exterior looked to be one of many Victorian buildings, its interior was thoroughly modernised and converted into the City YHA. It was here that I had a bed booked already for the next ten nights before heading for the international airport.

I entered the building and arrived at the newly installed reception. The popularity of the hostel was hinted at by the three or four receptionists serving and meeting the needs of all the guests. There was no queue, so I approached one of the receptionists and after submitting my name, I was assigned a bed in a dormitory on one of the upper floors. From the dorm window, I had a good view of the Central Station with its supply of trains from across the continent feeding it.

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Next Week: I burst an inflated ego as I prepare to visit Blue Mountains National Park.

Travel Biography - Week 89.

The Journey to and Arrival at Coffs Harbour.

Byron Bay, my first stop in New South Wales, was remarkably different from the venues I called in Queensland. The latter represented warm sunshine and tropical vegetation along with the corals of the Great Barrier Reef to add to the other-worldly feel of the environment. Although the coastline around Cape Byron was spectacular (in my view), the weather was different - cooler, a lot wetter, and a feel for the Australian winter in June was becoming more of a reality the further south I travelled.

When caught in heavy rain whilst cycling along the coastal road towards Byron Bay, I wore shorts and a button-up shirt, the same garment I wore during the Low Isles snorkelling swim. This was an advantage with hostelling, whether the hostel was YHA-affiliated or not. Nearly every hostel I called had its own launderette. Indeed, although the weather became unsettled, the air remained comfortably mild.

After three or four days at Byron Bay, I boarded a Greyhound Bus for the 233 km or 145-mile journey to Coffs Harbour. This day trip enabled me to arrive at my destination around tea time.

At Byron Bay Bus Station, I had to take special care when choosing when to board Sydney-bound buses. Some buses didn't stop at Coffs Harbour but carried on cruising along the highway, bypassing the town centre. In 1997, Coffs Harbour was not particularly an international tourist venue, and the majority of backpackers ignored its presence while they journeyed to Sydney. And that was a shame. For someone like me who enjoys the natural environment unfamiliar at home, there are some sites of special interest around the town. 

The bus halted for a service stop at the small bus station and here I alighted to search for the YHA-affiliated hostel in town, which wasn't far from the bus station. At least I already had a bed pre-booked.

I found the hostel and checked in. The receptionist, a young Englishman who had decided to spend a gap year in Australia, greeted me with friendliness at the reception, and I was assigned a bed. This time, no choice of dollar or duty was offered. I just paid the set price per night with no questions asked. I chose a bed in one of the dormitories.

The crown of Coffs Harbour - Mangrove Boardwalk.

Coffs Harbour town centre shopping precinct.

The town centre of Coffs Harbour was about two miles or three km or so inland from the coast, but it was built along Coffs Creek, a river winding through mangrove banks to the sea. Near the mouth of the river, Muttonbird Island Nature Reserve sits around 400 metres off the mainland coast. However, a breakwater connecting the island to the mainland, along with a jetty just south of it, encloses a marina which gives the town its name. A natural peninsula which looked to have been quarried, known as Corambirra Point, juts out south of the harbour, from the air, giving the entire harbour area the appearance of an open mouth with wide lips.

But what has delighted me above everything else was the boardwalk over Black Mangroves. The breathing roots, or pneumatophores, cover the beach with a dense spikey carpet, even more widespread than its counterpart at the River Brisbane. The boardwalk was longer, between five to six hundred metres, and without guide rails. Although I heard this through the grapevine, apparently, the boardwalk was built by convicts. My only regret, if I could call it that, was that during my stay at Coffs Harbour, the neap tides made little difference in submerging the carpet. On the other hand, a full king tide would have submerged the board itself, making it almost impassable.

At The Hostel.

As I have expressed earlier in this Travel Biography, a mountainous landscape consists of both high ground and low valleys. As anyone would agree, a mountainous landscape is far more spectacular than acres of flat fields stretching to the horizon. And so, with Travel, the full experience involves both emotional highs and lows, hence bringing out the full spirit of adventure.

As I travel further South, I need winter clothing.

General view of Coffs Creek

Boardwalk detail at high neap tide.

After buying groceries in town and preparing the evening meal, as was the custom, I was invited by the receptionist for a game of snooker outside in the hostel garden. There were several tables, perhaps three or four in all, arranged under a canopy to protect them from the weather. There were a number of us, but dominating the group was a young aggressive female, chubby, about my height, and with an apparent unhealthy dislike or envy of men.

Not only did she remind me of Josephine of Stella Carmel in Israel when I was a volunteer there three years earlier in 1994,* but she looked a little like her too. At least Josephine knew how to have a laugh at the right occasion. The best this one could do was sneer at our failures. Worst of luck, it turns out that she was a champion snooker player.

And so, I played the first round with another male backpacker, a fellow roughly half my age, and believe it or not, I won that round - but only just. But rather than listen to this female's tirade, I returned to the hostel and sat alone in the TV room. Here, I found a cassette video of Superman the Movie. I set up the system and started watching.

A short while later, the receptionist came for me and since I won the first round, I had to play the second round. This time, I played the receptionist himself. He allowed me the first shot to break up the triangle. No ball was pocketed. So it was his turn. At each and every shot, he pocketed a ball. I just stood there and watched as one ball after another disappeared. With the black ball finally shot, I was free to return to the hostel without scoring a single point and to endure the mockery thrown at me by the chubby Aussie woman for my poor performance.

Sitting alone in the TV room, I resumed watching the video after being set on Pause for the duration of the second round of the snooker. As I watched the movie, a tear rolled down my cheek. I was alone. From outside, I could hear the social chatter surrounding the final round of the snooker competition. Here, my full character is revealed. Big boys don't cry. So says the lyrics of the 10cc song, I'm Not In Love, released in 1975. But according to Eden Kane in 1964, Boys cry when no one can see them. And no one saw me. Instead, I put on a painted smile for the benefit of my fellow hostellers and never gave our chubby friend the type of satisfaction she was craving. She has all the satisfaction she wants, as she wins the snooker competition outright, beating all the men. Much to my relief, the following morning she moved on. Yet, I had time to think of her after she had gone.

I have wondered what man would fall in love with her and take her as his wife? And why her dislike of the male gender? Could it be that she wanted to be born a man herself? Therefore taking on a masculine attitude, especially here in Australia, a country reputed for its tough-skinned, ranch-owning outbackers? I wonder how she really would have thought of me, one who was poor at school games, hardly watched a football match, let alone played, couldn't box out of a paper bag, lousy at snooker, yet loved the natural world with its tropical vegetation, dynamic cliffs, rivers, marine life, and starry sky? Would she see me as a cissy? Quite a point, that! Except whether she would accept the challenge of a cycling contest. 

And such natural wonders I set off to see - the mangrove shores of Coffs Creek from a boardwalk. How I would have loved to see the trees partly submerged in high tide. But I considered myself fortunate enough just to be there, walking along a raised wooden pathway as it twists and turns as it flies over the vegetated river bank.

Like in Brisbane, I visited the boardwalk more than once. I recall one early morning at the hostel when a radio was broadcasting the local news and other useful information, including the weather and tidal times. It was announced that high tide would be around eight in the morning. Around 7.00 am, I got up, washed and shaved, had breakfast, and then made my way quickly to the Mangrove boardwalk in time to see the full tide. I expected a flood to reach the level of the boardwalk if not actually submerge it. After all, I would have been keen to remove all footwear and paddle ankle-deep along the boardwalk if it meant taking dynamic photos of this fascinating phenomenon.

But it was a neap tide, with the platform at least half a metre above the surface of the river. It was a bit of a disappointment. Yet, much of the carpeted riverbank was underwater, leaving only the trunk and branches of all the trees above the surface. As I strolled along the boardwalk, I was alone, having the platform to myself. It rounded a clearing as it went out to the river itself. Nearby, the boardwalk widened for a few metres and a safety rail allowed for an overlook, leaning to peer into the water beneath. The platform was also probably used for rod fishing, as this was allowed here.

A school of fish was swimming happily beneath me, undisturbed by my presence. Whether they were expecting to be fed by the human standing above them, I couldn't say, but the peace was suddenly disturbed when a pelican flew in and landed on the water directly above the school. Instantly, the entire school of fish vanished, leaving the bird all alone and hungry on a stretch of water devoid of any life.

When the pelican realised that he wouldn't succeed in feeding its stomach, it took off and flew away. I then watched as the school of fish gradually returned to its favourite spot in the river when they saw that all was clear.

The boardwalk became a normal path as it made its way towards the beach where the river passed under a road bridge, then a rail bridge, before emptying out into the Pacific Ocean. The estuary was a short distance north of the harbour itself, and totally separate. Unlike at European ports, the harbour was not at the mouth of Coffs Creek.

More Boardwalk details.

The Boardwalk takes a turn into the Creek.

Pneumatophoras exposed at low tide.

The Town of Coffs Harbour.

The town is about two miles inland from the coast, hence a 45-minute walk from the harbour or beach. Therefore, throughout my stay at Coffs Harbour, I'm either in town or at the coast (or on the boardwalk.) Hence, going from town to the harbour more than once a day was unlikely.

The main shopping street of Coffs Harbour town centre is Harbour Drive. It's a traffic thoroughfare leading to the harbour, flanked by a wide walkway on each side of the road. The shopping precinct had a strong resemblance to the Broadway in my home town of Bracknell. At that, I affectionately refer to this Australian town centre as "Bracknell-with-palm-trees". Before our town centre in the UK was demolished and a new centre was built in its place, the Broadway featured two-storey buildings on each side, each with shops facing into the street. Coffs Harbour's development took the same form of architecture, except that Harbour Drive is open to motorised traffic. Bracknell's Broadway was, and is, fully pedestrianised. The hostel I was staying in was just a block away from the precinct, at Albany Street.

Thus, I set a day aside to check out the town. But without any historical venue of special interest, at least to my knowledge, it was basically a New Town, hence this could have been the reason why the majority of international backpackers skip Coffs Harbour. Yet, it still attracts the indigenous, like our Aussie lady friend who succeeded in rolling a teardrop down my cheek. Like her, I too like to hostel around the UK, and I have done so. She was no different.

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*For details of my reaction with Josephine in Israel, 1994, it's on Week 54. Click here.

Next Week: The Big Banana, Whale Migration, preparing for Sydney.