Saturday, 12th February …..

It’s a laugh a minute staying at Myrtle Park. People-watching is the main sport and there’s enough variety in this little society to satisfy everyone. I’m always amazed at the number of women, young and old, who are traveling alone. I know I shouldn’t be surprised; it’s prehistoric of me to expect that all single women will be satisfied with a little cottage somewhere, keeping themselves busy with embroidery and day-time TV shows. Traveling in a little camper van is a valid option and it’s not a bit surprising that many women make that choice.
Like everyone you meet where caravans congregate, they love a chat and the game seems to be to glean as much information about the other person you can without giving too much away about yourself. I’m not good at that, not knowing what questions to ask and too ready to tell about my life. The camp kitchen is a great place to get into a conversation. I was there the other day, charging up my computer, and chatting to a couple of lone female travelers. One was likely to be retired but the other was much younger and had clearly made a lifestyle decision to buy a small campervan and see Australia on the cheap. She came from the Byron shire and had become fed up with the too-wealthy people from Melbourne who had moved into Byron Bay and wanted to change the culture to suit them. She also had a bit to say about the creepy single men in dodgy campers who hung around Mullumbimby and Nimbin – clearly up to no good.
There’s a caravan across from us which provides us with music all day. The problem is, it’s played on a Hammond organ. Marilyn says that there’s someone in the van practicing all day. We only ever see a man who sits outside smoking all the time, but Marilyn is convinced his wife is confined to the van, playing favourite hymns and selections from Mary Poppins. Or it might just be a CD player.
On Friday afternoon, several families arrived to set up their camps for the weekend. Those who carry tents are the most extraordinary. One lot arrived in a top-of-the-line Pajero with a trailer on the back. Out came the biggest tent I’ve ever seen outside of a circus, and blow-up beds and eskies, and table and chairs, and containers of water, and stoves and a generator, and bicycles for all the family, and so on. The poor man must have been exhausted when he finally got everything organized.
Yesterday, we set off to drive to Scottsdale along a road called the Sideling. It’s very windy and steep in parts and is notorious for the number of accidents there every year. Organisers of car rallies love to bring their cars over this road because it really sorts out the good drivers from the ratbags. It’s a very nice drive, through forests of manferns, hundreds of years old. We visited the Forestry Information Centre in Scottsdale which had won awards for its architecture. It looks like something that has fallen from outer space but well worth a visit.
The most interesting thing we did all day was to visit the Tin Centre in a little town called Derby. Around the late 1800s, early 1900s it was the richest tin producing area in the world, producing 10% of the world’s supply until in 1929, flood hit the town inundating the mine and killing 14 people. The exhibition is extraordinary and includes one of the best AV presentations I’ve seen anywhere. Typically, we ran out of time before we saw everything so will have to go back. There’s a good camping area on the banks of the river and we’ll probably try that out.
After a very good lunch at the Weldborough Hotel, we headed for home and marinated steak for dinner.