On the very first trip soon after we met, Lorraine and I did an overnight stay at Station Creek in Yuraygir NP. The weather had been made-to-order perfect and we’d felt the sand between our toes as we strolled along beside a glassy surf caressed by an offshore breeze. On high, cirrus clouds rode the jet stream as we broached the waters of Station Creek and waded across to Pebbly Beach.
I couldn’t help but recall previous time I’d been struggling across the receding tide years ago, up to my waist in brackish water, and an early model Land Rover started to do the same thing. I made it, the Land Rover didn’t. Being a thoughtful person I immediately stopped and took a picture of the vehicle and driver before asking if I could help.
Still, that was yesterdays; today we were chuckling like school children, watching the pied oystercatchers scatter through the pigface as we headed hand in hand up the 4WD bank and past the Pebbly Beach campground before moving over the marbled rocks to the headland and watching the world go by overlooking limpid pools left by the high tide with an emerald sea with azure sky beyond. We tarried there in a blissful state for some time before doing the return crossing and spending the night in the motorhome at Station Creek campground, one of the highlights being Lorraine desperately trying to find the toilet just 30 metres away despite having a head torch.
We headed for home the next day but, appetite whetted, Lorraine wanted to see more so the next time we scouted Yuraygir we headed for Wooli, a place I used to stay occasionally when I was a rep on the road. Then it was in a lovely room with spa overlooking the ocean; these days our budget didn’t quite stretch that far.
Initially we headed out to Minnie Water, a classic 50s style village of the type that used to exist all up and down the northern N.S.W. coast. Its general store (with petrol) is a minor mecca for tourists, especially with their fish and chips lunch special, just the thing for the lazy motorhomer.
We parked at Diggers Camp while we ate lunch and watched an impressive cloud bank roll in from the east and enjoyed the cooling effect of the flow-through breeze and then we checked it out on foot and went hiking surfside.
We strolled around to the next beach, realised it was almost impossible to go any further, and did an about turn and kept going, on and around Rocky Point while pondering how the sea ate away at these bastions whose defences will ultimately be breached, before moving on to the next beach and watching ghostly little sand crabs scurry into their holes surrounded by a 100 balls each, a reflection of their tireless work ethic.
We climbed a headland and there were the promised native flowers of spring (120 different types have been identified), banksia being predominant, and soon after we embarked on the appropriately-named Angophora Grove Track, a short easy stroll at the back of the headland. After viewing the abstract shapes of the paper bark, casuarina and angophora, the latter colloquially named smooth barked apple by early settlers because of their semblance to European apple trees (though they’re actually a myrtle), we were sated and it was time to head south to nearby Wooli, where, at the end of the road, you can cast your eye across the inlet (reportedly the cleanest river in N.S.W.) and marvel at the giant sandhills on the other side.
Wooli is famous for fishing and I’d caught my biggest bream off the wharf there and so was keen to cast a line in again but, alas, my gear was in need of repair, it started raining and someone else caught the bream I was after so I gave up entirely and we free camped down the road aways.
Morning arrived and the winds that preceded the storm persisted and made any idea of swimming less than welcoming so we made tracks again, this time to Diggers Camp. Without any idea what we were doing, we simply walked off the sand dune and started strolling along the beach. The first things we couldn’t help but notice were the attractive sculptures of horses on the beach. Someone with time on their hands and a little imagination had brought down some string and pulled driftwood together into bundles with equine resemblance. Though some may see them as incongruous, for us they seemed entirely in harmony with their surrounds, though they certainly stood out. Frankly, if you’d asked either of us what to expect, “horse sculptures” wouldn’t have even been on the radar.
We passed along the Diggers Rock Shelf section and then curved around to an interesting little pebble beach whose steep drop resonated with thrashing pebbles every time a swell arrived and receded. It was almost hypnotic just standing there listening to the rolling rhythm of the clattering stones where the moderate swell would dash itself on the rocks and then pull them downwards with a death rattling sound.
We then headed to Illaroo campground, with its north and south options. Set on top of high sand dunes this place is hard not to like.The proximity to the sea and its constant rhythmic changes make this the epitome of beach-side camping. Limited facilities mean that it’s not for everyone but that doesn’t stop the crowds in holiday times.
The evening light played upon the moist sand and the last vestiges of a rainbow added unexpected colour as photographers filtered out from every van on site to capture the moment. Then it was gone and only the remnant clouds were left to deflect the last rays earthwards.
For our first foray after breakfast we walked along the beaches from the campsite. Orange pandanus seed pods and necklaces of seaweed were intermingled amongst the contrasting mineral sands where fresh water dug channels to reveal the rocks beneath. The choppy onshore winds foretold the coming of summer and bore with them the flotsam of the deep. Lobster shells, sea urchins, sponges, bivalves and snails all had a presence here as we crunched onwards and upwards to Bare Point, a high sustained rocky headland that was taking a battering from the moderate swell as plumes of spray exploded from a crevice the sea was exploiting. We reflected how impressive it must be when a big swell comes through, definitely something worthy of your attention.
All too soon it was over and the next morning we left, waving goodbye to a couple of endangered coastal emus as the dust settled behind us.
It was only eight days later as I headed off for an “inside lap” (Qld, N.T., S.A., Vic, N.S.W.) that I dipped into Brooms Head, out from Maclean, to suss it out for future reference. I’d been there years before in a failed search of surf and it wasn’t any better this time.
A furious wind drove the waters shoreward, hard against the rock bastion that defied the swell, sending the energy every which way until the storm caught the spray and flung it northwards again, where, framed by the pewter sky, it settled once more upon the turbulent sea. The sombre mood was in such contrast to the dormant pelicans on the shore, heads beneath their wings, awaiting fair weather of future times.
I figured it would be a good time to head to Sandon, that obscure little place favoured by local fishermen that hasn’t moved onwards since the 50s. It looked like the road hadn’t been serviced much since that date either, a 4WD certainly would be the vehicle of choice to get out here.
The often crowded little campsite at the end is in need of a revamp but isn’t likely to get it in the foreseeable future. Striding out onto the stinging sands was a less-than-pleasant experience while I was there but the light relief of some local sculpture put a smile on my face as I walked out to the nearby island where, in certain places, you could hide from the gale behind scrub and rocks and look out to sea and watch spume stripped from breaking waves as they rolled towards the estuary.
Across the other side the village, whose only access is by 4WD from Minnie Water or boat, has some surprisingly modern edifices mixed with fishing shacks. Despite the difficulty of access, owners have no trouble selling their real estate.
Because of the weather, I thought I’d go back and head up Bosches Waterhole Road, just for the heck of it, and got as far as a swamp where water was over the road and figured I really needed a 4WD to explore further safely. There’d been a fire through in the recent past and the melaleucas and eucalypts had burned. Like charred ghosts they stood amongst the regrowth and the delicate colours of early spring wildflowers, their blackened trunks holding new tips on high beneath the first of the new season’s skies.
It was time to bid adieu to Yuraygir and head north, but I knew I’d be back to savour the sea and sand in the not-too-distant future, its allure is always present once you’ve been there.
CAMPING
There are ten places to camp along Yuraygir, starting from Station Creek in the south to just south of Angourie in the north. They vary greatly from walk-in only to full facilities.
Make sure you check the National Parks website for full details before you go, or ring 1300 361 967.
http://www.environment.nsw.gov.au/NationalParks/parkCamping.aspx?id=N0040)
WHAT’S TO SEE
This is a coastal park and encompasses several villages but the main attraction is water, be it the ocean or estuary. Fishing, surfing and walking are the three main activities and there’s ample opportunity for all three.
WHEN TO GO
These are all-year-round parks and it really depends on your weather preference. My personal favourite time is autumn when the water is still warm, the days tend to be more benign and it’s a little less crowded than summer and school holidays.