Bellingen and Crescent Head

What a couple of days of contrast!

First stop Urunga, a beautiful little town, picturesque and quiet. Not a soul on the beach. And an abundance of birdlife and marine life. We chose to stop at Urunga, so we were close to Bellingen for the monthly markets. And we’re so glad we did. The markets were fantastic! A never-ending array of handmade, artisan, organic, and unique stalls. The obligatory vinyl record was purchased, and yet more crystals. And we may have found our forever home and the perfect spot for The Brown Cardigan and Comfy Slippers. We are so aligned with the energy and vibe of this area that we are already planning to dip into our lottery win (ordered from the infinite field of possibilities) to purchase that beautiful cottage on the hill. We will be back.

And then onto Crescent Head. The drive was just beautiful, following the riverbank, with the odd cottage and homestead dotted along the road. And then out of nowhere, we turn a corner and BOOM! Crescent Head! Hundreds of houses, tightly together, perched on the coast. The beach matched the town, crammed full of surfers and holidaymakers, with not an inch of sand or ocean to spare.

This is the busiest beach and caravan park we have been to throughout our travels. Packed in like sardines, every family with feral kids is here. We have become accustomed to being on the beach with no one. And swimming alone. Daph suspects that the ocean is fifty percent child urine here. And so, she is not pestering Ern to go swimming, even though we are now in New South Wales, and it is safe to do so. Daph prefers the threat of crocodiles over screaming children and their aquabogs[1].

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I feel I need to add a postscript to the last blog...

Crescent Head is redeemed.

We took an after-dinner walk up to Little Nobby lookout. Wow! What a view! Just spectacular. A surfer spot since the 1950s. A few people have lost their lives here chasing the perfect wave. Their lives are celebrated in the Surfers Graveyard. Ride high on the waves of infinity, dudes.

Away from the auditory assault of kids who don’t want to go to bed yet, and the brouhaha of inebriated parents who can’t be arsed to parent, Crescent Head is actually very peaceful.

And now, we hit the final short leg to home, on familiar roads, with a funny feeling in our tummies. Home is where the heart is, and whilst we have missed family and friends, our hearts are on the road. It’s an odd feeling. But we trust in The Universe to show us the way on the next leg of our lifelong journey.

[1] Pooping in the ocean. Not nice.