By chance I discovered that Green Cape lighthouse was going to be closed for at least 7 months for maintenance and the last available tour would be at 10.00am on 15/4! As Green Cape was 5 hours south on Milton I decided to leave the night before and overnight in Narooma, I figured it would be easier on everyone, most notably me, if I left after dinner rather than having an emotional early morning departure after what almost certainly would have been a restless night. And so in high spirits I set off…

I must admit to a slight sense of groundhog day to be travelling the same road I’d been on a week earlier but by leaving at night, after saying goodbye to the family for a few months also made it seem like I was driving into a vacuum.

Having spent a couple of days in Narooma the week before I had it sussed and knew the best place to stay and where to get my morning coffee, which I did, and continued on south via Cobargo, Bega, Merimbula and Eden, and then discovering that Green Cape lighthouse was 30km along a dirt road!

I arrived at 9.30am and was slightly concerned to be the only one there, had they closed it early? After wandering around for a while Greg the caretaker emerged from one of the cottages and said we could get started as I was the only one booked for the tour. It turned out that Greg works for the NSW Parks & Wildlife Service who manage the property but AMSA are responsible for maintaining the operation of the lighthouse, how ever that works? Anyway, Greg knew the history of the lighthouse and surrounding area and not only conducted a great tour but it turned out we had kids of similar ages and lamented on how disruptive the COVID nonsense had been to their education.

We finished the tour around 11.00am and I decided to go and look at Disaster Bay which I’d noticed on the way in and despite it’s alarming name and tragic history on this day it looked more like a paradise than a place of death and destruction.

I’d also noticed on the way in a turn off to Boyds Tower which looked to be a lot shorter than having to go back to the highway, it was shorter but it was also an obstacle course with fallen trees, bottomless puddles and deep sand drifts which I’m happy to say Max seemed to handle with surprising ease.

Boyds Tower is an anomaly in many ways, as controversial and unusual as the man who built it, Ben Boyd. Benjamin Boyd (1801-1851) was a Scottish entrepreneur and adventurer who made his mark in colonial Australia. After arriving in 1842, Boyd quickly established himself as one of Australia’s largest landowners, acquiring approximately 2.5 million acres across what is now New South Wales and Victoria.

Boyd founded the township of Boydtown near Eden on the NSW south coast and constructed the landmark Boydtown Church and Boyd’s Tower, which still stand today. He was also a pioneer of “blackbirding” – the practice of bringing Pacific Islander laborers to Australia under often exploitative conditions. Slavery in other words!

His business ventures included whaling, shipping, agriculture and the Royal Bank of Australia, which he established to finance his expanding empire. However, Boyd’s financial empire was built on speculation and debt, eventually leading to his downfall during the economic depression of the late 1840s.

In 1849, Boyd left Australia to seek new fortunes in California during the gold rush via the Solomon Islands. It was there, in 1851, that he disappeared while on a hunting expedition on Guadalcanal, presumed killed by local inhabitants.

After Boyd’s disappearance the Davidson family acquired his whaling interests in Twofold Bay and continued operations until commercial whaling ended in the 1930s, making Twofold Bay the site of Australia’s longest-running shore-based whaling industry.

What made Twofold Bay even more exceptional was its unique relationship with killer whales (orcas), particularly a pod led by a famous orca named “Old Tom.” These killer whales worked cooperatively with human whalers, herding whales into the shallow bay and alerting whalers to their presence. This remarkable symbiotic relationship became known as the “Law of the Tongue” whereby the orcas trapped the whales and the whalers would reward them by feeding them the whales tongues and lips.

Ironically next to the old whaling station is a huge stockpile of logs awaiting their fate in the adjacent wood chipping mill and for export to Ikea factories around the world. This is the new conservation battle is taking place in the forests around Eden and seems to be an echo of the protests that led to the cessation of whaling . Just as whaling is now seen to be antiquated the logging native forests will surely be seen in the same light in years to come. There is a much better option, commercial timber plantations outside of National Parks!

By virtue of having to make a beeline to Green Cape I got ahead of myself and needed to head back up the cost to meet with my new friend Roland on Good Friday. With a few days up my sleeve I headed back to Eden expecting to hang about, I visited the wharf, the spectacular headland walk with the sobering seafarers memorial which commemorates the dozens of people who have lost their lives in local waters over the past 200 years and was going to go to the local museum to see the earthly remains of “Old Tom”, but then thought better of it.

The reality of international communications interrupted my time in Eden. With Hewie set to depart for Mexico in a couple of days I realised he’d done nothing about sorting his phone out. I suppose this is one of the benefits of being part of a family plan, but my generosity didn’t extend to picking up the tab for extended international travel, which history had taught me can often involve a second mortgage! After trying to understand how the Telstra website works and the even more frustrating interaction with their “international’ call centre I decided I needed to go to the Telstra shop in Bega and speak with someone I could make eye contact with and understand! Fortunately the guy there was very helpful and we came up with what should have been a good solution, but as we all know the proof will be in the first bill!

Not wanting to backtrack to Eden I decided to head to Merimbula where I enjoyed an excellent Japanese meal and stayed overnight down by the rivermouth, noticing that the swell had picked by a bit and the locals were out having a few waves while I cooked up a fat breakfast.

After spending most of the day in the local library trying to catch up on my website posts I headed to Tathra and had a great steak dinner at the surprisingly swish Tathra pub and, on Roland’s recommendation a schooner of the locally brewed “Killer Pilsner”. Retiring to Max after dinner I bedded down on the headland and sometime overnight became aware of a distant rumbling that suggested the swell had picked up. Indeed it had, a massive swell had arrived and brought that special energy only a solid 3m+ groundswell can bring. Hundreds of people along the headland were transfixed watching these giant waves pounding the coastline, but surprisingly not a single surfer was out!

Roland’s place is halfway between Tathra and Bermagui and we’d agreed I’d arrive around 4.00pm. Keen to see how Bermagui was coping with the swell I headed back there and wasn’t disappointed, it seemed to be getting bigger and was closing out the bay and the bar. All the fishermen who’d arrived with their boats expecting to spend Easter offshore had to rethink their plans, no one was going anywhere except to the pub!

Following Roland’s instructions I managed to find their property “Ness” which has been in his family for generations and predated Mimosa National Park which now surrounds it. To say this place is idyllic would be an understatement! 400 ha bordered by native forest and Wapengo Lake, with direct access to coast. Magnificent!

On arrival I was introduced to Roland’s partner Linda and a number of friends and relatives who’s arrived for Good Friday, I got the sense it was more about a free meal than anything religious, but it turned out to be a sort of Australian country style Last Supper anyway (I was enjoying myself too much to take photos which I realised after the event). Roland and Linda had just moved into this new house, only two days before, and I’m not sure how Linda did it but managed it but she delivered a fantastic roast lamb dinner for the multitude on unfamiliar kitchen equipment! While Linda was managing this Roland took me on a reconoita of the property, he took me to the Picnic Point campground, the original homestead and a number of family camping compounds scattered around the property and I couldn’t help thinking how brilliant it was for Rowland’s parents to have bought this property 70 odd years ago and bequeathed it to the whole family in perpetuity. The property is a living museum and repository of family history, a central point that brings generations of the family together and will continue to do so for generations to come! What a legacy!

After a leisurely breakfast I headed back to Eden where I’d arranged to meet my brother-in-law John and his family who were visiting for Easter. We had a great meal at the impressive Australasia Hotel and I headed off the the headland overlooking the entrance to the bay to camp the night.

The next morning, Easter Sunday, nature put on a truly amazing show for me. I’ve seem many sunrises and each one is different and special in it’s own unique way but this one was next level and seemed to have a some kind of religious symbolism, the perfect sun rise, enjoyed in solitude within a magnificent pine forest on a spectacular headland overlooking the ocean. Perfection!

After regaining my composure and a cup of coffee I headed south with no idea on how I was going to get to my next lighthouse, Gabo Island, but I figured it being Easter Monday there was a reasonable chance there might be enough people interested to make it worthwhile for someone to take us out there.

Arriving in Mallacoota at 8.30am I headed for the jetty to be greeted by a sign warning that the seas were still too rough and the bar was effectively closed! There wasn’t anyone around except a jovial looking bloke called Frenchy who was getting ready to sell seafood by the seashore. After offering me samples of his excellent seafood he confirmed that none of the charter boats were running and suggested I should call Dale to find out more. I spoke with Dale who said that he didn’t do Gabo charters anymore but said there was an outside chance that a local abalone fisherman called Reinhard might be an option. With a low level of confidence I called Reinhard and was surprised when he said he was taking a couple who had been waiting 4 days out to the island later that morning., but I’d need to be his “deckie” as they’d paid the bulk of the charter fee. This was a double stroke of luck enhanced by the fact that Jens (as in the couple kel and Jen) great grandfather was the keeper at Gabo from 1905 to 1911. Being the first boat to cross the Mallacoota bar in 5 days added to the excitement and terrified a few local surfers into the bargain and it turned out the trip out to Gabo and back was as good as the lighthouse visit itself, which was great! A day that started out questionably turned out wonderfully, along with Sandy the Scottish lighthouse caretaker I met three terrific guys and capped it off with a relaxing evening vodka & tonic by the lake – a perfect peaceful setting to end an exciting day!

I must admit, despite a fairly unflattering name and my initial reservations Mallacoota grew on me and I decided to stay overnight, and have a bit of a look around the next day. First up I visited the WWII Bunker Museum, which proved to be much more than military nostalgia, it was a an incredible archive of local history including a rich catalogue of maritime triumphs and tragedies along the adjacent coast.

After a facinating hour or two spent at the bunker I decided to head to the nearby Bitki beach for what I ssumed would be my last ocean swim for a while, the wetahre was closing in and I was head south into winter!

After a very quick dip, the water was already a few degrees colder than I was use to, I headed off in falling rain and temperature planning to overnight at Lakes Entrance. The lighthouse at Point Hicks should have been my next way point, and in the context of retracing Cooks journey this was a significant point but I also knew that it was inaccessible due to the fact the buhfires of 2020 had burnt out one of the bridges on the only acces road and in their wisdom the Victorian government had prioritised locking their citizens in their homes over repairing National Parks. Nevertheless I thought I’d give it a shot and turned off the highway at Cann River to try my luck, after travelling 30km on a dirt road, and being within 5km of the lighthouse my journet came to an abrupt halt at a locked gate. At least I gave it my best shot and sometimes you have to acceptb defeat, but as previously mentioned I have another plan to get there on my next adventure.

The next point of interest wasn’t Orbost, but it was the Snowy River which happens to flow through Orbost, strangely enough I’d always assumed it would have flowed the other way, westward into the Murray Darling basin but clearly that’s not the case. The only other thing of interest about Orbost is that a nearby town is called Mario, hardly an anglo-celtic or indigenous name one would think! On the southern outskirts of Orbost is yet another curiosity, a quaint little unmanned ‘honor system” roadside honey store, but just in case you weren’t feeling honourable you should know that it also has a security system the pentagon would be proud of, including cctv, motion sensors and micro wave link to whoever owns it – all to ensure you don’t knick a $7 bottle of homey – which I diodn’t!

Despite happy recollections of an overnight stay there on one of my first road trips with Marianne in our dating days this time I found Lake Entrance to be very boring and decided to push on toward Wilsons Promontory. This was a long stretch, through very boring countryside, and made that much longer due to a diversion I took to go to Welshpool for some vague ancestral imperative, and I can honestly say – don’t go there, it is one of the Worlds primary orifices! Realising my mistake I headed back to the highway only to be confronted by a shocking discovery, the aliens have landed…but lucky for us they landed at Welshpool and decided there was probably a better place to colonise somewhere else in the universe.

Relieved at not being abducted or even worst having to spend the night in Welshpool I head on into the gathering darkness. With still about 80km to go before “The Prom” as they call it in these parts I came upon a town called Foster, which not only had a happy connotation from years ago on the NSW mid-north coast but more importantly had a pub and supermarket, things I wasn’t sure existed further on. So still in recovery from the Welshpool experience I decided to drop anchor here, have a feed, restock Max and make the final dash to “the Prom” in the morning.

Leaving Foster the next morning things were looking up, the weather had cleared and the countryside had transformed from scrubby flatlands to rolling green hills, but this was just a precursor to what lay ahead, entering the Wilsons Promontory National Park was like entering the pearly gates, everything from blue necked emus to one of the most stunningly beautiful landscapes I’ve ever seen anywhere! If you haven’t been there go, and if you have go again!

This is the southernmost extremity of our continent and at its tip is a lighthouse, but there’s a catch and that’s a story in itself!