It was a long drive up to Armidale from Coffs Harbour. Up through the hills through the dividing range. Passing by green farm pastures lower down and then up through miles of forested areas. As the light faded in the early winter evening, the tree trunks appeared white and naked against the dark leafy forested background.

We had booked into a show ground camp in Armidale with power, rather than pulling over into a rest stop. This meant we could plug in an electric blanket as the night time temperatures on the table land plunged to minus 2 degrees with no visible insulation in the van!

We woke in the morning and the grass was white and crunchy but the chill was melting fast in the morning sunlight.

An unusual sight for us was to see a large scattering of white cockatoos pecking at the grass. They were as numerous here as the pigeons in London’s Trafalger Square.

When we were childen, my brother and I were taken by my mother to Armidale to stay with Granny and Grandpa and we attended local schools for a few months. So we do have some early memories of the place.

The house which we stayed in, is now a retained heritage building, and now a centre for some kind of social services activities run by the Council. The name of the cluster of buildings is Kent and Hughes Houses, in memory of Gran. As well as being a local GP she was also on the Council and became Deputy Mayor. She was also awarded an MBE for her contribution to civic life in Armidale, which she did with characteristic gusto.

We had visited inland Armidale 5 years ago because it was the place where my mother and her siblings were brought up by her mother, Dr Kent-Hughes and her father Garde Wilson a local businessman working as an auctioneer of sheep.

After peering again at the house which was looking uncared for and shabby, we wandered past the park and into St Peter’s Cathedral which had been central to my Gran’s life and we inspected the plaque positioned above her pew. The Cathedral was well looked after and a solid structure built out of local ‘blue’ tinged brick.

We reflected on how long it had taken to drive here from Sydney or even up from the coastal area and then on how far it was from any other town or village. It was a very isolated place and you would have had to make a real effort to visit Sydney, Brisbane or even the NSW coast. Or indeed anywhere!

And my grandmother did do that and even travelled to Europe. (As did other members of her family). But it also gave me a feel for why my mother, and my cousins a generation later, may have opted to make an adult life elsewhere. In her case, in Europe where towns and villages are relatively close to each other and where you are not far from a choice of concert halls and galleries or theatres. Or where you could take a train or flight to a completely different country with different languages and cheeses!

And even today, Armidale with its Hospital and Education buildings and a scattering of new galleries but with sad shopping areas with many boarded up businesses, seemed like it was in a bit of a time warp. Jim wondered if it was because of an out of town shopping centre or something, (no chance) but I think it was more that people did not have a lot of money to spend on non essentials. We visited a lovely old fashioned hat shop where the owner really knew how to select and fit a man’s hat to his head! It also sold high quality jumpers and clothing items. It was still open but you felt that its time had passed and it was not long for this world. The super markets by contrast, did seem busy!

What Armidale did have was a number of beautiful retained heritage buildings which gave it a distinct character.

We decided to leave Armidale by the New England Highway travelling through the Black Mountains parallel to the coastal road. The map above shows our route so far. It was a surprisingly good, fast, road with very little traffic. It was not like in France where in the countryside you would always be held up by various slow moving tractors and an assortment of agricultural machinary.

We passed through hamlets with familiar Welsh Scottish and English names such as Llangothlin, Ben Lomond, Glencoe and Stonehenge, till we arrived at the small town of Glen Innes. There we picked up maps and detailed directions to the Mann River Campsite in the Mann River nature reserve. Once we reached the turning we descended steeply and solidly for 13 kilometers down to the river banks. There we found the most amazing campsite along the banks of the Mann river.

There were a few seasoned campers already there with wood fires and BBQs going. As we drew up we displaced a couple of Roos grazing near our spot. Then we spent the next half hour roo watching next to a burning brazier until the sun set.

Some Roos had joeys alongside and another in the pouch! The pouched joeys popped out to look around or to hop out and graze and then hopped back in again! They took in the scene from their pouch whilst mummy roo carried on grazing. Not something Brit’s are used to seeing at least not in the wild.

The following morning we took ourselves off to find a trail up to Tommy’s rock lookout. We planned to walk for 4 hours before setting off for Coopers Shoot. It was advertised as a 4.5 hour walk, so a bit longer than we had hoped for. However, what I had not realised was how much uphill climbing was involved on a very very steep broad track. We climbed for 500 metres in 2 hours. (Then down again!) It was steep enough for both of us to slide down in an ungainly fashion when our boots failed to grip! This involved a lot of endurance for us at 70 and 77 years old! (Amazingly no complaints from the hips).

After the walk we drove on another 4 hours to Coopers Shoot near Byron Bay.

There we were welcomed with fab studio accommodation with views down to the sea, hot water, a comfortable bed and a lovely glass of wine before dinner! How do we deserve that?