Shake-Down Phase

Our last day in Freshwater (ie. moving day) started with a small bedside table falling on my big toe.

It was around 6am on the morning we moved out of Freshwater. We had not slept properly. There was excitement, some anxiety, and the strange feeling that the thing we had been planning for months was no longer just a plan. It was happening now. I was not fully mentally ready for it, and the toe incident did not help.

The rest of the morning did not exactly go to plan either. We packed the last boxes, dismantled the final bits of furniture, and waited for the movers. They arrived at 8am, but they had brought the wrong storage containers and had to go back for the right ones. That meant a two-hour delay before the actual move had even started.

I had been fairly certain the move would be done by 2pm. As we learned quickly, this was way too optimistic.

The two Brazilian guys (our movers) were calm, professional, and exactly what we needed on a day like this. They packed up the house while we deep-cleaned it, which was definitely more work than cleaning our old two-bedroom unit in Manly.

The weeks before had been busy for both of us. In addition to everything else, Steph had become particularly good at selling on Facebook Marketplace and I had a chance for a little DIY project. A few things left the house, a few things went into storage, and many more things somehow found their way into Roger the Ranger.

While the movers were sorting out the container problem, we suddenly had a bit of time on our hands. So we went to Three Seagulls in Freshwater for breakfast. Food first; we could be sentimental later.

The theme of things not going to plan continued. I had ordered the wrong water hose for the car setup, so there was a Bunnings stop before we could properly leave. And we had to do our first grocery stock up.

Finally, Roger was packed and ready. The SUPs were on the roof. The DIY storage system in the car had come together better than expected (thanks to the Bunnings guy), and we were making good use of the space. We had too much stuff. But we were leaving for a long trip, so at least for now we could tell ourselves that we needed it all.

By around 5pm the movers were finally done. The new tenants arrived for the key handover, and luckily they were a very friendly couple. Before we properly left Sydney, there were still a few loose ends. We dropped the last cleaning stuff at Kelly’s and Rikhav’s place, where our pizza oven is also being looked after. Becky and Craig were storing two of our surf boards and letting us use their address. Without friends like that, the whole adventure would be much harder.

Then it was time to hit the road.

Wombats, Kangaroos and Not Doing Much

The plan for the first night was Bendeela in Kangaroo Valley, about three hours south of Sydney. By the time we were finally driving, cooking at camp no longer felt realistic, so we stopped in Lidcombe for Korean food on the way.

Like many other big cities, the vibe of Sydney changes throughout the suburbs. Once you leave the Northern Beaches bubble and drive for less than an hour, the whole feeling of the city changes: different food, different people, different street life.

After dinner, we still had the main drive ahead of us. We were already tired, and then the fog settled in. Proper fog. The kind where the road feels narrower and the brain has to work harder than it wants to at that time of night.

We arrived at Bendeela around 10pm and found a spot in the dark. It is a simple campground on the Kangaroo River arm of Lake Yarrunga, with toilets, water, open grass, the river nearby, and quite a lot of wildlife. Finding the toilets took longer than it should have. They were only a short walk away, but after the long day and the foggy drive, even that felt like a small expedition. By the time we found them, the relief was significant.

We were greeted by wombats, kangaroos and a very clear sky. Bendeela is known for wombats, and it does not take long to understand why. They waddle through the campground with total confidence: slow, solid, completely unbothered. They are also powerful animals. That first night, while I was walking to the toilet in thick fog, Steph heard something bump into the car. Our best guess is it was two wombats fighting. We did not investigate too deeply.

The next morning we slept until 8:30am, which is very late for us. The fog was not only outside. Our bodies were also slowly coming down from the last weeks of preparation, selling things, organising storage, and trying to remember every small item needed for the trip.

So we did almost nothing.

We set up the new fly screen, then the tarp. We read books. We made porridge. A neighbour had country music playing quietly on the radio, and it somehow was the perfect backdrop. By late afternoon we cooked fish curry with black beans and rice, somewhere between lunch and dinner.

Then we discovered that we had left the water valve open and had almost emptied the water tank without noticing.

This was not ideal, but it was exactly the type of mistake these first days were for. Better to learn it in Kangaroo Valley (on a campground with potable water) than somewhere genuinely remote. For dessert we had pralines and a very nice dessert wine, which did not solve the water problem but did improve the mood.

Our shower setup is a real win. We have a small 7 litre pump beach shower and a shower tent. It is not luxurious, but after a warm day at camp it feels close to it. A shower changes the whole evening. It makes sleeping in a tent feel less like roughing it and more like a system that might actually work.

At night, wombats and kangaroos came close to camp. It is always good to see wildlife like this, and also a bit sad when families teach kids to pat wild animals. They are still wild animals, even if they look like they are part of the campground furniture.

The second day at Bendeela was similarly slow. We read, relaxed, spoke to neighbours and somehow lost the whole day without doing much. By 5pm we started cooking fish tacos, including corn tortillas from scratch at the campsite. We also kept working through the dessert wine. There was a possible storm nearby, but we were lucky and it missed us.

This was probably the first useful lesson of the trip. Doing very little is not the same as wasting a day.

Carrington Falls and the Rain

After two slow days at Bendeela, it was time to move again. The next stop was Carrington Falls in Budderoo National Park.

The decision was not straightforward. The forecast was bad, and not just a little bad. There were storm warnings that made us question whether camping on an exposed plateau was the right idea. We discussed a motel more than once. In the end, we decided to chance it.

On the way out we stopped in Kangaroo Valley for sandwich ingredients. Being back there also reminded us of a previous holiday with friends meeting a huge green snake, and a night with a surprising amount of kangaroo activity outside. There always seems to be something happening in Kangaroo Valley.

Before Carrington Falls, we stopped at Fitzroy Falls for a short walk along the top of the escarpment. Fitzroy Falls sits in Morton National Park, where the water drops almost 100 metres into the valley below. The views are immediate and large, with cliffs, rainforest gullies and that particular Southern Highlands feeling of being close to Sydney but also somewhere quite separate.

It was only a short walk, maybe three or four kilometres, but the waterfall was impressive, and the air already felt like the weather was about to turn.

The drive from Fitzroy Falls to Carrington Falls confirmed it. We went through heavy rain and very limited visibility. By the time we reached the campground, the worst of that cell had passed, and we managed to set up the tarp without rain. That felt like a small but important victory.

Carrington Falls itself drops more than 50 metres into the Kangaroo River, and the surrounding area has short walks, lookouts and swimming holes. On a warm sunny day it would be an easy place to spend time. On our day, it was more of a controlled weather experiment.

About an hour after setup, the rain arrived properly. Torrential rain. Most things stayed dry under the tarp, which was good for morale. We stood there watching the spectacle, slightly relieved and slightly questioning our judgement.

Two German backpackers joined us for a while under the tarp, and we had a good chat. It was interesting, and also depressing, to hear again how some businesses take advantage of working holiday visa travellers. Some of it still sounds far too unregulated, with young people doing hard work while not always being treated fairly.

Dinner was leftovers: Indian daal, black beans and fish curry. Not elegant, but still tasty.

That night our friend Christophe and his family offered to let us stay with them in Wollongong and escape the storm. The next day’s forecast was still poor, and we were very grateful. There is a specific kind of relief in knowing that a warm shower and dry bed are waiting for you.

A Dry House and a Cold Pool

The next morning, our phone told us it felt like 2 degrees. It was wet, cold and miserable. Coffee helped. Knowing we were not staying another night helped more. We packed up Carrington Falls and drove towards Wollongong, stopping for breakfast and a quick look at the coast despite the rain.

The ocean was rough, and the weather got worse through the day with heavy wind and rain. Being welcomed into a house with tea felt excellent.

Christophe and his family live in a great spot with very nice views. In the evening we joined them for a kids dance party at the local RSL. Many RSL clubs are very Australian social venues, with food, drinks, raffles, sport on TV and a very normalised relationship with gambling.

I signed up as a member because the discount made our meal and drinks cheaper. This is not a heroic reason, but it is accurate.

The kids seemed to have a good time, and Steph, Christophe and I sat in the main area having pizza and drinks. RSLs are funny places. On one side there is commemoration and community. On the other side, poker machines and meat raffles are treated as everyday background. It is a very Australian combination, and still slightly strange to me.

The next morning the sun was back. Steph and I went to Stuart Park in Wollongong for a run, or at least that was the plan. A few hundred metres in, I knew my ankle was not ready. I had injured it playing tennis a few weeks earlier, and this was not the comeback.

Steph continued. I used the time to clean the coffee mess in the car. I had spilled coffee into the centre console the day before, which is not ideal in a vehicle that is now also our house. Thanks to YouTube, I managed to remove the relevant pieces and clean it properly. Modern life does have benefits.

Later we went to Port Kembla Pool. It is a council-run saltwater pool by the sea, with an eight-lane 50 metre pool. Entry is free, which is awesome. Since running was not possible, I thought swimming should be fine.

The pool was excellent. The water was also very cold. Much colder than the ocean and colder than I expected. I wanted to get out immediately, but once you have decided to swim one kilometre, it is difficult to quit after one lap without feeling you failed. So I did the kilometre. When I got out, my hands and feet felt frozen. I was looking forward to a hot shower. The shower was cold.

Still, it felt good to move the body.

Later that day we met Christophe, Thea and Kara the dog for a beach walk, then played three different versions of rummy back at the house: French, American and German. We also learnt that German commands are often used for police and working dogs, including in Australia, because the words are short, distinct and less likely to be confused with everyday English.

The next morning Christophe baked caneles de Bordeaux, small French pastries with a caramelised outside and a soft custard centre, flavoured with vanilla and rum. They were very good. After one more beach walk, we packed again and continued south.

Wrong Campsite, No Gas, Perfect Beach

Our next stop was Killalea, south of Wollongong near Shellharbour. Before getting there, we stopped at Leisure Coast Fruit Market and Deli. It was chaotic, but we got fresh fruit and veg. Then, in what has become almost a tradition, I needed new sunglasses. For some reason the lifespan of my sunnies is short, and on almost every holiday I end up looking for a replacement pair.

We also stopped at The Waterfront Town Centre in Shell Cove. The area has changed a lot compared with a few years ago. There are now waterfront restaurants, cafes and a market. It felt much more developed, and actually quite nicely done.

Our campground for the next three nights was inside Killalea Regional Park. The park sits between Shellharbour and Kiama and protects a stretch of coast with beaches, headlands, wetlands and rainforest remnants. The Farm and Mystics are its best-known surf beaches, and Killalea was declared a National Surfing Reserve in 2009. It is close to Sydney, but it feels much further away once you are walking down towards the beach.

The ocean was still too wild for proper beginner surfing, but the place itself was beautiful. We set up camp and then immediately ran out of gas.

Luckily there was a camp kitchen with electricity, so we used the induction cooktop there. It worked, and it was a good reminder that redundancy in your setup is useful. Still, we prefer cooking and washing up at the campsite. It keeps everything contained and means you do not have to carry half the kitchen across the campground.

That night we also realised we had set up on the wrong campsite. Someone arrived at the spot we had actually booked. He was relaxed and agreed to swap, which solved the problem, but we still felt bad. Next time we will read the campsite number properly.

The next morning we moved to site 34, which turned out to be better anyway. Around the same time, a group of about 30 kids and their guides arrived for an outdoor education program: SUPing, hiking, biking and other activities.

We started our outdoor gym routine (jungle gym) with TRX and bodyweight exercises. Around one hour, nothing fancy, but enough to feel like we were keeping a structure. Dinner was chicken wraps, and the seasoning was excellent. We had remembered to season the chicken the night before, which is one of those basic things that makes food much better and is still easy to forget.

The downsides at Killalea were mosquitoes and some distant road noise. The road noise was not a major problem, but it was there. The mosquitoes were harder to ignore because they were biting us. Neither of us likes using DEET unless necessary, so the strategy became simple: eat early, clean up, and get into the tent before the mosquitoes came out properly.

The renovated camp kitchen and new showers were very good. This matters more than I expected before the trip.

On our last full day at Killalea we did a relaxed walk around the lagoon. Killalea Lagoon was once marked on early maps as Moles Lagoon, after a farming family in the area, and the broader park has a layered history of farming, quarrying nearby at Bass Point, and later conservation. The place now feels mostly like protected coast, but you can still read some of the human use in the landscape if you look for it.

The weather was perfect. Properly perfect. On the way back we stopped at The Farm, and I went body surfing.

It felt very good to be in the ocean again. I still had sharks somewhere in the back of my mind, as I often do on the east coast. Not enough to stay out, but enough to notice the thought. The waves were fun, and I caught a few all the way in until I had no breath left.

Body surfing is a simple form of wave riding, but not necessarily an easy one. Surfers stand above the wave on a board. Body surfers are in it, using their body, fins if they have them, timing and a fairly direct relationship with the water. It is probably the oldest form of wave riding, and it feels much more direct than surfing with a board.

Back at camp, I washed clothes by hand. Without a washing machine, you learn to improvise quickly. Later we escaped the mosquitoes again. We both had a few itchy bites, and Steph came up with the word “Juckenstich”, which is not official German but definitely explains the feeling mozzies leave you with.

By then it felt like the first days had done their job. We had tested the car setup, the tarp, the shower, the camp kitchen fallback, the water system, the gym routine and our ability to change plans when the weather made camping less appealing.

It still felt like the actual loop had not fully started. We were close to Sydney, near friends, and in places we partly knew. But the apartment was behind us now. The trip had become less of an idea and more of a routine: packing, unpacking, cooking, fixing small problems, changing plans, and slowly learning what daily life with Roger might feel like.