Down to the Sapphire coast

To reach the coast, we cycled the remaining 53 miles (85km) over two days, enjoying some eccentricity and one of the most magical mornings we’ve had so far.

The first 20 miles was through remote open country up to the 920m Mt Darragh highpoint. The small hamlet of Cathcart (106 population) provided the only sight of humans. Whilst waiting to be served in the tiny store I listened to locals chat about their water. Cathcart isn’t on mains supply and they rely on rain water and water cartage - they don’t have to pay for the water but for the truck transporting it to fill their water tanks. The store manager told me it was difficult estimating how much cartage you need, depending on the rain and your water use. Outside the store the wind was icy and we hung around only long enough to wolf down the bought chocolate.

What goes up (us, over the last few days) must come down! Big wide grins as we enjoyed the gorgeous long free wheel almost all the way to Wyndham, where we were staying the night. Speeding our way down, through eucalyptus oil-scented air, we glimpsed views of pale forest-covered hills stretching away into the distance.

We reached Wyndham early afternoon. Established during the gold rush of the 1860s, Wyndham is now a small quiet village with a nice friendly feel. Only an hour and a half from the Australian snowfields, Wyndham is also only a short drive to golden beaches. We grabbed a coffee at the general store before heading across the road to The Robbie Burns Hotel (I know!) where we’d booked a night through booking.com.

It looked lovely. “Classic historic charm meets artistic allure” - as the website described it. Warm ochre walls out front, faded red tin roof, dashes of stained glass, green plants and flowers. We were excited about our stay in such a welcoming looking place and hoped to treat ourselves to a bar meal that night.

Looking around however and the place seemed deserted. Peering through windows revealed dark interiors. The doors were locked - out front, and also to the side when we went round into the beautiful garden. I rang the hotel and got the answerphone recorded by a breathy creative lovey. I started to have a feeling of unease.

Lilz went back across the road to ask if the hotel opens later in the evening? An exchange of knowing glances from locals in the store. A subtle roll of the eyes. Lilz was told the proprietress may be away. The opening of the hotel a bit haphazard. There was a place down the road where we could pitch our tent if needs be…

I waited with the bikes as Lilz went to check out our potentially new grassy digs. Lilz reported it was fine, if a bit exposed to the wind. Disappointed, we decided to wait for an hour or so - enjoy sitting in the sheltered sunny hotel garden - in the hope she may turn up. 1.5 hours passed. No sign. Just as we were getting up to leave I rang the hotel again. Just in case.

I got through!

The same breathy creative voice from the answerphone told me she had no knowledge of our booking. She was currently driving to Sydney. Introducing herself as Katie Pye, hotel owner, she told me to hang on and she’d sort something.

Half an hour later, Zoe from Hull - Katie Pye’s neighbour - came round laughing to let us in. This was not the first time.

Zoe gave us a quick tour of the large rambling place - which we would have the entire run of that evening! The place was extraordinary. Katie had transformed the place from a traditional Aussie country pub into a bohemian boutique hotel infused everywhere with strange exotic paintings (many painted by Katie herself), eccentric treasures (dead lizard, blank-eyed dolls, mannequin’s hand) and intriguing objects (many from India where Katie had spent 5 years). A designer, Katie Pye was a prominent Australian fashion iconoclast in the 1980s. Now we were her sole hotel guests delighting in running around examining and exploring everything in her absence.

We spent a wonderful indulgent night reading on the verandah until twilight, making dinner in the large catering kitchen, pulling up close to the crackling fire Katie suggested we make in the bar to keep warm, before choosing one of the six uniquely decorated rooms to fall asleep in.

In the morning blinding sunlight pierced through curtains and cracks. I was overexcited about eating breakfast on the verandah. At the back of the hotel, it is one of the most peaceful magical places I’ve spent time in. The red tin roof encircled us in homely warmth. Lemons on the lemon tree popped a vibrant yellow against the blueness of the sky. A green valley below led the eye across to forested hills. Birdsong was abundant and bird flight all about, including swallows dancing above our heads. To complete this entry into nirvana an Australian magpie flew onto a wooden post next to us, gave us a long beady-eyed stare, and then serenaded us with his wonderful fluting warble song that I adore so much. Thank you.

I never wanted to leave.

With a wrench we loaded up the bikes and rolled away with the place’s magic stored bright in our hearts. I felt high as a kite. A short largely downward journey off the wooded hillsides took us into charming Pambula. We enjoyed the bustle of the town as we ate a toastie, people watching as they shopped in the vintage and wholefood stores.

Final stop: Merimbula on the Sapphire Coast. A relaxed roll along a cycle path down to the azure coloured sea. Our motel only a 5min walk from a stunning 6-mile arc of golden sand. We were definitely going to like it here!

AmandaRead more