Happy days in Kingscliff

Finally the sun is shining confidently in Kingscliff, just south of the Queensland border, after many days of unsettled weather and rough seas.

Not that bad weather unsettled us. For here we have been graced with the company of Carol’s sister Kay Bertini and husband Paul, of Brisbane, who share ownership of an onsite van with their daughter Madonna Adams and her husband Paul. It was a delight to have the Adams family visit for a couple of days at the park.

We have enjoyed surfing, long walks and hearty home-cooked dinners.


Pictured: Paul, Carol, Kay and Madonna; and Madonna's kids Ruby, Grace and Jack, and me.

At one of these dinners we received a surprise visit from Mr Happy, an old friend of the Bertinis.

Mr Happy managed to extract a slice of watermelon from Carol’s ear, a pencil from someone’s nose and other assorted objects from whatever orifice happened to be close at hand. He also astonished us with some deft card tricks.

It turns out Mr Happy, alias Noel Ives, is among other professions a clown who has performed all over the world entertaining kids (which meant he was completely at ease with us).

He occupied the van next to ours with wife Noela (yes, Noel and Noela) and so for us there was never a dull moment.

The only disappointment was that our bikes were pinched one night as we slept, the only night I forgot to lock them down. A lesson learned the hard way.

Oh, let the sun shine in

A campsite, even the lovely Solitary Islands Beach Resort, is not the best place to be when the rain sets in. Puddles become lakes, paths quagmires, and tents islands of misery.

And when you’re off to the amenities block, umbrella in hand, camp kids with nothing else to do will test out their bikes and your patience by blasting through every pothole and puddle, sending sprays of brown mud on you and everything else in proximity.

So one tends to stay indoors and read, watch DVDs, study, listen to music or just reflect, giving thanks for a cosy, dry van.

I think it was about the 16th day or 17th day of continuous rain that triggered reflections of another waterlogged campsite in a very different place, a very different time and very different circumstances.

The place: Deolali, a transit camp for British soldiers, around 100 miles by train from the port of Bombay (Mumbai) in the south.

The time: the monsoon, 1948.

The circumstances: The then Dique family: Dad, Mum and we kids John, Mary, Alixe and me, and grandmother Norah, camped with all our belongings, and with other emigrants, waiting for word of the SS Stratheden that would take us from Bombay to Australia and a new life.

Even though a small child I remember well the rain and the flood that poured through the rows of army tents including ours and brought chaos and disease. Most of us got sick, one or two very sick.

However, Dad, who lived all his life in India figured it was well worth the hardship to escape the terrible events unfolding in the newly independent and then partitioned nation: Gandhi’s assassination and sectarian conflict manifested in wholesale massacres of Hindus by Muslims and vice versa.

Though debilitated, we managed to make it to Bombay in one piece – except for our grandmother who died of typhus in the camp. We boarded the SS Stratheden and I remember well the long voyage, our arrival in Sydney and sailing under Harbour Bridge.

Back to the present. Australia has been good to us, and the sodden Solitary Islands Beach Resort has been terrific.

Grafton catchup

Between the showers we did manage to catch up for a picnic lunch in Grafton with younger brother Patrick while awaiting the arrival by bus from Brisbane of his daughter Sophie for Easter (pictured Carol and Sophie). Pat lives in Tyringham near Dorrigo with partner Tracey and 6ft 5in tall son Tristan.

Almost forgot...on a drive to the beach at nearby Digger’s Flat we saw and photographed our first wild emu.

Next stop will be Kingscliffe just south of Tweed Heads.

Between a rock and hard place

Our Indian summer came to an abrupt end with heavy rain accompanying us from Port Macquarie to South West Rocks, 40km east of Kempsey, near the Arakoon State Conservation Area.

You’ve all read about the dreadful flooding at Bellingen and Coffs Harbour. We were spared at South West Rocks, but gale force winds made our first night a bit scary with the van shaking and threatening to ‘walk’.

However it stood firm and next day we visited historic Trial Bay Gaol, built of local granite in 1886. The idea was to use inmate labour to build a breakwater nearby to form a safe harbour for shipping. Talk about being caught between a rock and hard place! Heavy seas washed away most of their work before completion.

I thought Trial Bay got its name from prisoner trials, but it’s actually named after the brig Trial. It turns out that in 1816, 13 convicts escaped from Sydney’s Hyde Park Barracks, hijacked the Trial from her anchorage near the Sow and Pigs in Port Jackson, and sailed up the coast only to come to grief on the rocky shore that now bears the ship’s name. The gaol was closed down in 1903 and reopened as an internment camp for Germans living in Australia at the outbreak of World War I.

Pub with no people

Despite rain for most of our stay, we managed to get out and about to take in the magnificent scenery including the lighthouse at Smoky Cape, the highest elevated lighthouse in Australia.

You’ve all heard about the pub with no beer. Well for an hour or so one afternoon we found ourselves at the pub with no people. Believe it or not, we had the whole Riverside Tavern on the Macleay River to ourselves (if you don’t count the 20 or so ‘roos munching on
the grass outside).

Kangaroos in large numbers were frequent visitors to our park and Carol insisted I check the amenity block in case one got in and might be waiting to pounce on her. I think we’ve spent too much time in the city -- she wouldn’t even hang out the washing because a kookaburra with a malevolent eye was perched on the line.

Among friends in Korffs Harbour

On to Coffs Harbour, where, during our two-day visit it was an absolute delight to catch up with Jan Johnson. Jan, who tragically lost her husband, my good mate Viv Jenkins to cancer on 7 February, invited us home to dinner with two of her close friends Colleen Cartright and Sandi Page (pictured from left, Colleen, Carol, Sandy and Jan).

Viv and I worked together on assignment on the Sunday Telegraph back in the 1970s and again in PR the 80s and 90s. He was a terrific photographer, loyal friend and raconteur who retired in 1998 to Coffs with Jan, and is sadly missed.

It was a privilege to meet the engaging and inspiring Colleen and Sandi who have been stalwarts in Jan’s support network. At the end of an evening of lively discussion we promised to get together again at the first opportunity, hopefully when Jan is on chef duty, yum!!

A bit of trivia: did you know the name Coffs Harbour is a misspelling of “Korffs Harbour”? According to Colleen, that was the name given to the area in 1847 by naval architect and shipbuilder Captain John Korff. Shouldn't the proper spelling be restored in the man’s honour? After all, India has changed Bombay to Mumbai, Madras to Chennai and Calcutta to Kolkata!

An impromptu get together

On our last night in Coffs we received a pleasant surprise – a telephone call from Carla Little, our daughter Louise’s mother-in-law, inviting us to dinner at the motel where she and husband John were staying en route from Brisbane to Port Macquarie.

Carla and John have decided to settle in Port Macquarie for their retirement. It was wonderful to see them again and talk about the future (pictured, Nigel and Carla [rear], and John and Carol).

Our next destination is the Solitary Islands Marine Park resort in Yuraygir National Park. In the meantime, a Safe and Happy Easter to all!