Tuesday 29th and Wednesday 30th July

Rehearsals for Australia’s version of Top Gear took place on the dirt road from Coffs to Dorrigo, the precipitous long way round known as the’ Waterfall Way’ which winds its way over The Great Dividing Range. It’s one of the 2 points where The Great Divide reaches out to touch the sea on the spectacular Australian east coast. With ‘Admiral 8 knots’ Mulray at the wheel the Audi Turbo Diesel Quattro was in its element.; looking only slightly out of place between the beaten up utes and kombis when parked outside the various pubs we visited during the course of the day (see pics.) There were some surprised looks from sheep and cattle though as the black Teutonic flash shot through the verdant fields of the New England High Plateau sounding like a double-decker ‘Atlantean’ bus on crystal-meth. Milk yields are reportedly down in the district since but ‘Admiral Stig Mulray’ barely arched an eyebrow as he proved for all time that a small capacity turbo-diesel burdened with 4 chunky adults, their luggage, numerous cartons of white wine and several gross of ‘Coff’s Coast’ souvenir teaspoons can see off 200 kph on a decent straight stretch and still manage 8.7 litres per 100k’s.

The beautiful Ebor Falls and Guy Fawkes River were glimpsed during a handbrake turn at the end of ‘Scenic Route 18’ or, the main straight as the Admiral liked to call it. This time the cows and sheep were ready for us and hid behind tallow-wood trees chewing nervously and firing liquid shit down their hind quarters as we shot back past them en route to Bellingen.

We left the Audi creaking and decidedly 2nd hand in the main street and found lodgings at the ‘Federal Hotel,’ circa 1901. Our quarters were at best clean and strangely interesting; their design heavily influenced by a period known to the architectural elite as ‘Early Borstal.’ This style was in vogue during the industrial revolution and was developed to make sure one appreciated the comforts of small leaky boats. Abused Austrian families locked in dark subterranean basements live more comfortably; the printed instructions, blue-tacked to the back of the door of our first floor accommodations requested that we leave the building after hours through the men’s toilet (true, see pics.) This manner of egress it seemed was the only way to avoid setting off the hotel’s alarm system and explaining moments later to the local constabulary, why one was standing in the gaming room of the Federal Hotel Bellingen at 3.45am in only Ugg-Boots, track-suit pants and a sequined Spencer. If only Cap’n Sparrow had been sober enough to read that fateful notice before retiring!

In spite of these various privations; no heating, bathroom in the next postcode, only one male loo for all 9 rooms on the floor, (difficult with the Admirals trouble) and a TV, mounted so high on the wall that you had to lie down on the bed and develop Spinabifida to watch it, we had a great night anyway and enjoyed an excellent meal in their funky wee restaurant ‘Relish.’ It was a nasty shock to discover that the bar shut at 9.45pm but in all truth we probably needed an early night. An early night and a kidney transplant,

The following morning the car keys were finally pried from the rigor mortis like grip of ‘Admiral Stig’ as he slept and Sparrow then tried his very best to enjoy the pleasures of the Audi during the 60kph speed limited, radar infested, trek back to Coffs. ‘A good car’ was his erudite and slightly peeved verdict, but not a patch on the 97 Camry!

Pub Highlights

Ebor Hotel…..World’s ugliest pub run by world’s frumpiest publican who sat like Madam De Farge knitting bed socks by a fuel stove. The bored patrons watched daytime TV as the unmistakable smell of urine-cakes wafted into the bar from the adjoining Gents fouling the air but slightly improving the taste of the 'Tooheys New', sadly the only beer on tap.

The Dorrigo Heritage Hotel

A fine example of Federation architecture complimented by a bevy of ancient cricket trophies and smiling service from barman Rick.

"Nice to see you again Reeeek."

We had a fine but simple pub lunch here marred only by the arrival of a bus load of babbling, intellectually challenged folk who came in slightly after us. Not that any of us bear any ill will to the differently-abled, it’s just that watching people trip over things and hurt themselves can put you off your tucker. Perhaps that goes some way to explaining Cap’n Sparrows sylph like figure.