At last. Sea breeze straight through, taste of salt on the tongue and gull calls hanging in the air with childhood memories of scalding chips wrapped in newspaper. It feels great to hit the coast.
Nambucca is from the first nations word, ngambugka, meaning a “winding or crooked river”. A river that was used by European tree fellers and bullock drivers who would cut and snig logs of blackbutt, tallowwood, ironbark, mahogany, turpentine & red cedar from some of the forests we have just driven through and punt them downstream to the mills that were dotted here abouts in Nambucca.
Life was as tough back then. As tough the wood they cut. We, on the other hand have spent the last couple of days exploring easy on foot (a little) and flobbing about under Ripley’s awning, reading, discussing pandemics, & presidents, & Illuminati conspiracy theories…..and snoozing (a lot).
Evenings, it’s out and back to the end of the breakwater, by which time our appetite has been we’ll stoked for dinner: home-made veggo pesto pasta one night (yum) and a ridiculously overpriced takeaway fish and chips ($25 bucks each!!) the other. Then, safe and snug in Ripley’s belly, rounded off with a Netflix movie.
Spoiler alert: I am usually unconscious (Kelly says snoring…but that is preposterous) sometime after the main character development, but before the first plot twist.
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