The East Coast

The morning starts late - I've slept in. I wanted to get on the road early, but I also want to spend more time with Heather. We walk up to the local cafe where I spoil myself with avocado, pumpkin and relish on toast. I'll never afford a house at this rate but I call this living. We walk it all off by the river, or what's left of it. It doesn't rain much out here. There's a rather large pond and a tonne of pebbles, weeds are growing up from the dry riverbed. Heather tells me it's a fast-flooding river. A couple of bridges cross over, apparently the water can rise quickly to the road above. Right now I can see all of the structures which hold those bridges in place and it's hard to imagine flooding of any kind. Some of the fish jump, leaving ripples across the water. I'm burning in the sun and it's past time to get a move-on.

I've been told that Lake's Entrance is beautiful and the plan has been to stop there for some sightseeing. Yoni was absolutely right about the dull landscape through Gippsland so I'm excited to see this popular spot everyone's been talking about. The information centre direct me to the wharf and then to a 5km walk down to the Entrance and

back. I'm told I can walk in the water but the steep incline and pebbles make it hard. Back to the track; a sandy path towards two cement reinforced headlands. It's pretty anticlimactic.

I could walk back via the Southern side, but it's all beach and no shade. It's already in the mid 30Cs and I'm bummed that I walked all this way for some cement bollards. I did see a cool old boat on the way and the birds are spectacular. Black seabirds (no idea what) swoop and soar collectively, pelicans float along between the many boats, and black swans (yes! In Victoria!) dive for whatever fish and vegetation is hiding beneath the surface of the water. An Israeli family are discussing which tree might be the signposted weed infestation - I'm pleased to be able to understand them. They pass by me again at the cafe, pausing to decide whether they eat inside or not. The women are distracted by a neighbouring clothing rack and cacopheny passes. Birds aside, Lakes Entrance is a tourist-only

destination and I'm keen to see some of the smaller, less popular towns as I head North.

I'm running so behind schedule. I'd like to set up camp before dark which rules Eden out as my end goal for the day. I've been given a heads-up about a free camping site in Genoa, which isn't in Italy, despite what my GPS thinks. It's a quick set up. As the darkness sets in, I'm sitting up against the car with guitar in hand and when it nighttime finally arrives, I settle into the tent with the rest of my book. The only sound I can hear is bugs hurtling themselves against the outside of my tent, trying to reach the light inside.

I'm woken early by the sound of a couple of roosters, some cows, and a dozen or so birds all singing different tunes. What's left of the dry river is covered in a blanket of mist, which has also left me with a rather soggy tent. The magpies are snacking along the roadside and there's still a sliver of moon at 6:30am. The cool of the morning doesn't last long and by the time I'm packed up, the sun is up to it's usual sweaty tricks.

Eden is a lovely, quiet town. I drive up to Aslings Beach and am overcome with the urge to get my feet wet. There's barely anyone else around - a woman doing yoga while her two dogs chase seagulls, and an older couple whose golden retriever makes instant friends with me. The water is the perfect

temperature and if I could, I'd stay for hours letting the waves lap over me. As it is, there are places to go and explore, so up to the Rotary Park it is. The view is fantastic, even though it's the wrong season for whale watching. Eden used to be a whaling town and I can see the whale-spotting station across the water. The old hunters used killer whales to guide them towards their catch and the town boasts a whaling museum - world class, I'm told. Learning about how a bunch of whales died doesn't feature highly on my to-do list, so it's up to Ben Boyd National Park to see some of the living wildlife of Australia.

I've been told the dirt road is suitable for my vehicle and my little car shudders and shakes its way along at 20kph. I'm glad I'm going slowly when I see a goanna crossing in front of me. He takes his time, black silhouette and forked tongue heading over the dust towards the bush. I can't get any closer, the engine and movement will scare him off.

First exit is Severs Beach. There's a sign that warns me not to leave any valuables in the car. I'm hardly going to bring my guitar and laptop on a walk with me, besides, there's no-one else around. Or is there? It's slightly unnerving! The bush gives way to a sheltered beach. A kangaroo shoots me a startled look and hops away, the

water is clear, bright blue and sparkling. I can see someone in a kayak upstream and a bunch of swimmers on the other side of the bay. There are fish wiggling about in the shallows and as I get close to the water, I see the ground moving. Shells, walking. Crabs - everywhere. I realise I've marched straight onto their territory and their little blue bums are scuttling like an army en-masse across the sand. I'm trying hard to walk back without crushing any and only hope I've succeeded when I reach the higher sand. I can hear kangaroos in the bush and walk slowly in the hopes of spotting another. A second 'roo takes me by surprise around the corner, but that's all I see for now.

At the Pinnacles lookout the ocean appears just as bright. I can see footprints on the sand below, destroying the illusion that I'm here in solitude. The Pinnacles are cliffs formed with white sand and red clay. Google tells me it's around 65 million years old, and I'm going to trust this as correct as I have no other information source to go by. 1pm greets me with a familiar rumble, so it's back on the road.

I drive straight through Merimbula and on to Tarthra, where the Tarthra Hotel serve me a stuffed capsicum with a dry red lentil cake. Simple, delicious. A quick stop at Information to confirm the bridge to Central Tilba is open, and to check that Central Tilba shops will be open once I arrive. I'm

given an affirmative answer for both so off I go. When I arrive though, the historical town of Central Tilba is closing for the day. A quick browse, a couple of mountain photos and I'm done. It's time to go home.

There's a 3.5 hour direct drive to Wollongong, and I'm on the home stretch. I'm awake but hungry and restless. The sunset behind me is spectacular over Gerringong, but there's nowhere to pull over and I just want to get back already. It's a long end to a full day. Rami greets me with hugs and purrs, Josh shares some dinner with me and by the time I do make it to bed, I'm exhausted. One road trip to Tasmania and back, done and dusted. Thanks to everyone who shared it with me! It's hibernation for this tired traveller.