Trifter

Nobody knows Australia better than the Australians. The beauty of travelling alone is that you are far more likely to make friends with locals and wander of the tourist track. With this is mind I accompanied a new Aussie friend down the ocean highway to the unspoilt town of Forster. A precious town on the Mid North Coast of New South Wales that backpackers have missed, but native Aussies flock to for the summer holidays.

Nine Mile Beach is surrounded by the outback. Inland Lakes Way touches on Mayall, Smiths and Wallis Lakes. Captain Cook and Matthew Flinders went before me as the first Pommies to investigate in 1770 and 1799. Two ships were wrecked off Cape Hawke in 1816. Whilst the Captain and his family made it to Newcastle the rest were presumed dead (more likely setting up permanent residence in the sun.) Whilst otherwise not the most historical of places, the town does boast an original toilet. Yes, this is a tourist attraction. It looks more like a small church with a questionably chosen weather cock on the top. Lovely. Whilst this may be of interest camping fishing and surfing generally are more of a hit with visitors.

Staying with a local family we drove into the homes of Kangaroo’s and Kookaburra’s alike in the bush. The next day we had our bikini’s eschewed by heaving waves on the beach and then jumped off the bridge that joins the town to its sister, Tuncurry, (oh-so-practically meaning ‘good fishing place’) and as we journeyed around the area spotted dolphins, and sat with the pelicans outside the local fish and chip shop with the fishermen for lunch. You can bask on Forster Main Beach or One Mile Beach and surf off Pebbly Beach. Bluesy Beach is also popular amongst surfers named strangely after Bluey the cow who met his end falling off the southern headland into the sea.

Much of the area is inhabited by the retired. Don’t turn up your youthful nose. This means that much of Forster is completely untouched and pretty safe. The young people who do live there have one pub for a Friday night – Bellevue AKA the Belle, complete with indoor pool. Saturday night revolves around Tuncurry Bowling Club . A much better club than its name gives away. I met loads of lesser travelled locals who all wanted to chat to the new ‘Pommy.’ We danced and drank (actually ‘skulled’ the night away now I’m a reborn Aussie) the night away and woke up with graffiti up our arms, legs and backs from the guy who found a black marker on the floor.

Growing up there must be a dream, whilst we huddled in a park or hung around in local shopping centres to chill out with our friends and keep warm in Britain the kids here are on the beaches, swimming in the wharf, fishing or camping on small islands. The sheltered nature of this town reminds me of an Aussie version of Dawson’s Creek. Neighbours have no need to lock the house, can you believe it. London born and bred I couldn’t get this in my head, it does make me envy all those old criminals who were dropped off in paradise as a public act of revenge though.