I've decided that Newcastle YHA is too hot, just a bit scummy and the surf operators are clearly not on song so I suggest we move on. Having prescience [not], I do this after moving the car pre-9 am from the metered slots outside, down the road to the Ocean Baths (carved from a single piece of rock, one of the information sogns on my way back told me). The dude at the desk (you must be a sallow faced surf dude round here) OK'd our cancellation and we were on the cusp of offing when we received a text from Rob, a fellow Finance Club member from the late Tornado. Finance Club was a solemn and veritable affair where Goldie (Financial Controller, irritant Project Manager and now Gentleman Farmer in France) Rob and I being the last people late in the office would partake of one for the road and discuss exactly why Tornado wasn't making any money. It required a lot of discussing. My favourite memory of Rob was when we were discussing potential charging/cost structures and I suggested the charge for something was 45 times 1000. Rob, presumably having a blank moment though you can't be sure with Finance people, they're not good with numbers, cleared the calculator and patiently typed in 4 5 x 1 0 0 0 =
stared at the result for a moment to calculate where the thousand separators were then studiously noted the number speaking it aloud as he did so. He's not been allowed to forget it.
Rob's text said how far (north) have you gone. Well, we're just about to go 500km north to Coff's Harbour but decided sagely that going another 120km north to Forster would mean we could still slip back to Sydney. So that was the plan. The Pacific Highway isn't the dream road north, however. It's undergoing plenty of improvements which means that it's a lot worse than it was. There aren't any towns on the road, not in the usual sense (there are on off-road spurs) but they do have collections of petrol stations with eateries attached called, in an American fashion, roadhouses. That's fine and a good idea, but they have five or six roadhouses adjacent to one another. So, do you choose your favourite petrol supplier or your preferred eaterie? Then there's nothing for 50 or 100km. Surely they should be individual opportunities every 10 to 20km.
We dump our bags in Forster, confirm with Rob that we're heading back to Sydney and hit the road again. Just outside Forster the sign said 289km to Sydney. Is this wise? Well, we've missed Rich and Deb a couple of times, Theresa Thompson (alias T2 for the third reason you might imagine) half a dozen times. We have to meet up with someone we know. Even if it's a 3.5 hour drive each way.
Rob and Fiona are staying in a guesthouse in Kirribilli on Sydney's North Shore (roughly, at the right foot of the Harbour Bridge on the other side from the Opera House, next time you're looking) though we fail to find their road. Phoning Rob in desperation we find him by accident as we're both heading back up to the bridge (an obvious landmark). Having arrived an hour and a half late (not just because I insisted on a detour for photo and GPS opportunities at Newcastle which I'd forgotten earlier) we met Fiona on her way back from work almost immediately. Straight to the pub for an update on the world. Including Rob's adventures today in looking for sponsorship from his old employers the Dark Side (PwC) which involved an emergency purchase of a suit on the way to the interview (missing the opportunity for "I'm prepared to walk out in this if you cut me the right deal...") including the horrific Do you mind if I can keep it on?
followed by and can you look after these?
handing over the clothes he walked in in. Of course they knew he was going to an interview and worse, the feeling was the PwC guys knew he'd literally just bought the suit. He didn't even get lunch.
In the meanwhile, as Rob idles looking for sponsorship before posting his DIMIA application, Fiona has gotten her hands dirty with sales promotions. The sort of low level job where you'd rather tell your parents you play piano in a brothel. Secretly, though, she says she enjoys it.
As locals they've stuck to VB in the pub whereas I've tries the Beez Neez which looks and tastes like lager, not the wheat beer it claims to be, then Coopers Pale Ale which looks and tastes like a wheat beer not the Pale Ale it claims to be. An AU$12 bottle of Wolf Blass Red Label (AU$16 in the cellar door!) and a nice and cheap Thai later and there's no more time for stories or advice on where to go, we've got to go, it's half nine. 
(no [camera] focus!)
First stop in the way back was a toilet stop -- it's amazing how a few bumps in the car can have such a diuretic effect -- then the long drive back to Forster. Barring a couple of wallabies near Forster it was an untroubled 3.75 hour trip. Then Helen threw up.
Forster YHA S32.18010 E152.51620 Elev. -3!
Copyright 2003 Ian Fitchet. All rights reserved.