The reunion tour continued as I headed south. Spent the weekend back in Wauchope, housekeeping – literally. A drive by and coffee with the agents. The roof could do with a gurney, but apart from that, she’s lookin’ OK. Liz and John were ‘mine hosts’ for the weekend and it was great to catch up and get all the local goss. Just by chance I watched a TV show where a couple had relocated to Hawkes Nest and that became part of a grand plan to check out the Myall Lakes for the next few days.
Back on the FI and it wasn’t long before I was turning off at Buladelah, heading for Bombah Point and my first ferry crossing. The crossing couldn’t be more than 50 metres and from the opposite side, the ferry looked like it could, or could not, fit me on. The ferry only runs once every half hour. How that works in holiday time, who knows? But at $13.00 for a sixty second ride……
Now, my original destination was a recommendation, Mungo Brush campground. However, a cursory drive through clearly revealed a site only suited for pop-tops and camper trailers. Further options proved similarly fruitless and, with rain clouds closing in, time was starting to run thin.
The road threads its way between Myall Lake and the ocean so I thought maybe something by the seaside my prove better luck. A turnoff loomed to the left. Maybe this could work Wilson. And indeed, Dark Point answered my prayers. A goodly sized car park and a wide verge that fitted the rig just nicely. I just had enough time to set-up and a quick look before the rain arrived. Dark Point was really turning dark. Exploring would have to wait till tomorrow.
By next morning, the rain had petered out, but the sun was struggling to break through. As it turned out, I couldn’t have picked a more interesting location. Dark Point is a nationally recognized site of historic, indigenous, cultural, significance. For the benefit of all, especially my overseas readers, a bit of a backstory is required.
First Nations (indigenous) peoples have settled Australia for 60,000 years. Many tended to lead a nomadic life, following the food and weather cycles. Others found a spot and pretty much hung around. It was upon reflection, their version of the Garden of Eden, which they did a far better job of embracing than our biblical ancestors. Without a map, how do we find these settlements?
One of the clues are ‘middens’, a kind of vertical history of occupation. It’s the ‘how are they formed?’ that’s revealing. The Worimi tribe would spend several months here each year when the fish were running. Now I’m not talking tens or hundreds of times. I’m talking thousands of return visits in a continuous cycle over thousands of years. Without a bin collection, empty shells, fish frames, ash, charcoal, animal bones and stone tools were just tossed aside in the sand. In between visits, the wind would cover this detritus with a layer of sand and so the following year, a clean table once again. Repeat ad nauseum and you build up a mound of tiny layers of history. To the untrained eye, this place seems unremarkable. But look closer.
The site is fenced off for obvious reasons. There was sadly, a terrble massacre of Aboriginal people here back in 1838, forced off the cliffs at Dark(ies) Point. For more information go to the Wiradjuri Facebook page https://www.facebook.com/profile/100064857153803/search/?q=Dark%20Point%20Massacre
Patches of blue sky lightened up the scene, but the ocean was green and the seas, roiling. I decided to head down to Hawkes Nest the next morning. I had been there only once many years ago and even that was a fleeting work-related trip.
Hawkes Nest was a sleepy retirement town, but now an aspirational, al fresco Nelson’s Bay. It still has a ‘locals’ vibe but some of the newer architecture is definitely new money. There was nowhere in town I could stay, but only a short drive south found me at Waynderrabah Beach. With the sand literally lapping at my door, my only ‘visitors’ for two nights were the Mullets (early morning swimmers) and a couple in a van that pulled up behind me, the husband looking and sounding all the world like Kerry ‘Skull’ O’Keefe (cricketer and commentator). I wanted it to be true, but we hadn’t had the regaling alcohol required to illicit that riotous snicker that is his signature.
Well, we’re getting close to the end of another years adventures. Next week you’ll be reading the first part of a two-part Bumper Edition(lol). A road trip you won’t find on the tourist trails, perilous drama, a lost history and a ‘hidden’ canyon complete with a mystery (or two).
