Seagull Island (formerly known as Cockatoo)

This weekend presented me with the unique opportunity to camp on Sydney Harbour, well on a small piece of rock on Sydney Harbour – Cockatoo Island as featured on Sydney Weekender and now no longer particularly unique. Despite a few flaws such as an unworkable ferry timetable, it had a lot going for it… prime waterfront real estate, the opportunity to get up close and personal with aggressive birds, the freedom to wander through derelict buildings and of course, some nice views of old Sydney town.

It would be nice if Cockatoo Island actually had some cockatoos, whose screech would have presented light relief from the constant whine of seagulls who seem to have taken a liking to this place. Did you know, seagulls do not need sleep? Plus they are very ugly when young, which probably explains why they go about annoying everyone, shitting on rocks and pinching pasties when they grow up.

The only respite from the gulls was a massive thunderstorm which rolled in just around teatime and pushed the tent to its limits. Fortunately the tent held and the BBQ area was undercover, meaning plenty of people had gathered half cut on beer and wine to burn some sausages and eat tomato sauce as the rain pelted down. It was a true Aussie communal camping experience, young and old joined together in the common ideology of a few shrimp and some cheap plonk.


The next morning brought a return to something resembling a summer, being official the last day of spring and of course the last day of Movember. Now back on the mainland I treated my hairy friend to one last day of freedom, filling it up with brunch and cake and beer, taking it for a walk (including past a nudie beach) around Watsons Bay and trying not to scratch it too much.



And then, finally it was December 1st, time to let it go but not before the trip back to Canberra. Usually this is a fairly boring three hour cruise down the motorway but today, fuelled by yet more food and coffee at Coogee, I took a more scenic route down the coast and across the Southern Highlands. The first stop was the very lovely Royal National Park, the second oldest in the world so they say and just Australia in a box – dense bushland, sandstone canyons, surf beaches and – yes – cockatoos and no seagulls!

Further south brings several lookouts which offer views of the Illawarra escarpment, which is basically where the tablelands plunge into the sea, with a few towns – notably Wollongong the largest – wedged in between. Nowhere is this more evident than at the Sea Cliff Bridge, a looping section of the road perched on stilts above the water.

As you near Wollongong things gradually become more built up, from easy going coastal towns to car lots, McDonalds and confusing motorway intersections, so confusing that I missed a turning for one of my intended destinations (a scenic lookout point of course). Nonetheless I climbed up through the twisting bitumen of Macquarie Pass and back into a more familiar world of the Southern Highlands, giving the big potato (aka turd) at Robertson a miss but stopping once again at Fitzroy Falls for a late afternoon bushwalk.

The trip from here was fairly standard and I rubbed my mo now and again to stave off the boredom. It wasn’t too long though that I entered the Australian Capital Territory, just in time for a spot of dinner and then, in the comfort of my own home, that fateful shave. Hoo-bloody-ray!