All Around Town
Backpacker Essentials: March 2007

After a couple of nights on the town in Sydney and long day’s sightseeing, Jo Hegerty headed out of town and found more than she expected in the country surrounding the big smoke. 

There’s a chapter in the guidebook to my favourite city called ‘Beyond Sydney’. To be honest, I’ve always been so dazzled by the bright light that is the capital of New South Wales that it never occurred to me to venture past it, but once I see what’s on offer, I realise I’ve been missing out.

Having had a couple of late nights in the city, shopped till I dropped and climbed the Bridge, I’m ready for a change of pace. I map out a loop encompassing mountains, countryside and coast, and jump in a hire car to head for the hills. 
The Blue Mountains

It’s an eerie drive through thick fog up to Katoomba in the Blue Mountains. At the top of the town, the 1930s guest house and former cabaret club, now YHA, is large and welcoming. Inside, the décor and stylised mural hark back to a day when this small town was the place to be. 

A trip to Katoomba was the height of fashion in the 1930s and the town is adorned with relics from these glory days. As well as the art deco cafés and bars, there are countless second-hand and antique shops where you can search for vintage treasures. 

In the morning, I’m drawn into the Paragon Café with its dark wood panelling and alabaster carvings of Greek heroes on the walls. More than 90 years old, the Paragon remains in a time-warp, still selling handmade chocolate from glass cabinets. 

I catch the Blue Mountains Explorer bus to Scenic World where I see the Jamison Valley from every possible angle, starting with the slightly terrifying railway, a near vertical descent into the undergrowth. 

Taking the long way round to the Cableway, I have the bottom of the rainforest to myself. Light filters through the canopy giving life to the moss on the side of the rocks and, along one of the boarded tracks I spy a lyrebird digging in the mulch. 

The Cableway returns me to the top, then it’s onto the Skyway for a birds’ eye view. The rides are fun, but there’s fantastic walking to be done so I join the track to Echo Point. Tea tree and eucalypts fragrance the path, the screeching cockatoos are almost drowned out by the drill of insects. Mt Solitary and Ruined Castle look as dramatic as they sound, and as the sun comes out, I get a real understanding as to why they’re called the Blue Mountains. 

Not far from Echo Point is Lurline Street, home to a number of galleries. The Artist’s Gallery is a funky, modern place packed with sculptures, canvases and jewellery, and the attached café is a hip place to hang out. 

If I was a bushwalker in the morning, that afternoon in Leura I’m a rampant consumer. The crowded boutiques are simply gorgeous; day-trippers from Sydney pop up to coo over the shabby-chic homewares and sip lattes in fine cafes, such as Leura Gourmet.

At sunset, I return to Echo Point. As they wait patiently to have their picture taken yet again, I wonder what the Three Sisters have seen since they were turned to stone.  

The perfect end to my time in Katoomba is a poke around Mr Pickwicks and a nightcap on the monochrome-tiled front balcony of the Carrington Hotel, where it’s easy to imagine the tea parties of yesteryear. 
The Hunter Valley

If the Blue Mountains YHA was a base camp, the Hunter Valley YHA, on the fringe of wine-making country, is a home away from home.

Mia the golden mutt comes to see us off on a wine tour led by assistant manager Gordon. He’s a wealth of information with an easy manner, and by the end of the day I actually feel I’ve learnt something about wines and the region. 

We start at Iron Gate Estate, a Spanish-inspired boutique winery. It’s a realisation of the Hunter Valley Dream: Iron Gate wines are only available here or in select restaurants, and Roger Lilliott makes them to suit his taste, so if you don’t like them, tough. 

Back on the road we pass Mount Pleasant, an old volcano that gives the soil its rich quality. Driving between vineyards is like a who’s who of the big Hunter winemakers – Draytons, Ivanhoe, Brokenwood and Lindemans slip by as we make our way to Oakvale, established in 1893. 

Tim at the cellar door may be playing Led Zeppelin on the stereo – ‘our Semillon goes perfectly with The Grateful Dead’, he jokes – but he’s deadly serious about his wines.

The jewel of the day, however, is a visit to Hanging Tree Wines. The cellar door is an old cow shed with worn sofas and bric and brac on every surface. The overall impression is of stylish dishevelment and we melt into the couches to gaze out to the vines and roses.

Apart from the enchanting atmosphere and fine wines, Hanging Tree is memorable as the place to meet a genuine horse whisperer, Diamond Porter. I could stay there all day, but the light’s getting thick and it’s time to head back to the hostel for a swim in the pool. 

That night we fire up the outdoor oven and make pizzas for dinner. The YHA is only a couple of years old and has true Hunter character, a quintessential Aussie homestead with paddocks out the back and a modern, crisp finish in the rooms. The hostel makes its own wine, too, a fiery young zinfandel.  

The next day, I grab a mountain bike and pedal to Hunter Valley Gardens, a 300-hectare village comprising shops, restaurants, picnic grounds and places to stay. The magnificent gardens are peaceful and it takes a couple of hours to get around, but there’s no rush. 

Taking advantage of my 25 percent discount from the YHA, I tackle the huge lunchtime serves at Oscars then look around in the shops. There’s one more place I have to go to and I’m pleased I’m cycling there – the Smelly Cheese Shop on Broke Road. If you can get past the local feta and imported blues, be sure to try the gelato because you won’t forget it.

While it’s always sad to leave the countryside, I’m dying for some seaside fun. And after all that cheese and wine, it’s a good thing I’m headed to adventure capital, Port Stephens, where I’m spoilt for choice. Surf lessons, 4WD trekking, bushwalking, horse riding, whale watching and more are on offer – I opt for sand one day, sea the next. 

There’s sand aplenty at Stockton Beach, a 32 kilometre stretch of coast famous for its dunes. These are the largest body of moving sand mass in New South Wales, shifting up to four metres annually. 

Private 4WDs plough the dunes as I climb aboard a converted Land Rover alongside a Korean tour group. Kiwi is our driver, brown as a macadamia shell, wiry and grey. He bounces the vehicle up to a steep dune and unceremoniously pushes us down it one by one on a bit of wood. This is sand-boarding, a brilliantly simple concept and great fun – until I have to walk back up. 

Next up is an hour with Quad Bike King. If you think quad-biking is only for a certain type of person, then call me a petrol head. For the first two minutes on the 90CC Eton Viper, I’m cautious, then I join the teenagers racing up and down the dunes. I love the whine of the engine and the way you have to steer with your whole body. Although I confess that my thumb gets sore from pressing the accelerator – my first repetitive revhead injury. 

Somewhat sand-blasted, I return to Samurai Beach Bungalows YHA and sink into the pool. It has to be one of very few YHAs to feature a both a nude beach and a koala habitat.  Mark and Sandy, owners of the hostel, are travellers from way back and are spot on to backpackers’ needs. There’s a range of rooms, from dorms to deluxe doubles, but it’s intimate, with a maximum capacity of 31 guests, and so relaxing.

The weather lets me down on my last day in Port Stephens. I’m booked to go on a dolphin-watching trip with Moonshadow Cruises and it’s cold and wet. The captain assures us that dolphins don’t mind the rain – they’re already wet, after all – but it’s with a soggy heart that I scan the choppy, grey surface of the water. 

Just metres in front of the boat, a pair of sleek bottle-noses emerge for air and then seamlessly return to the depths. I’m stunned. I stare at the six-year-old beside me and we blink at each other for a moment in disbelief. 

Suddenly, the deck is crowded with people, cameras aloft. I wonder how many people have lost their equipment over the edge of this boat? When we move out near Yacaaba Head, we’re surrounded by the animals as they play in pairs and groups. 

When it’s time to head back to Nelson Bay, there’s a communal sigh of regret, but the show’s not over. Two pairs of dolphins lead us the whole way back in perfect view of those of us who have forgotten about the rain and are hanging over the side of the boat. It’s magical. 

Just before port they give us a wink and dart away. It’s then that I realise I’m soaked through and cold. I squelch into Fantasian Noodles at D’Albora Marina and am blissfully reheated by a tom yum gong with noodles.