Old Tom, Oysters and other adventures from the Sapphire Coast

The time has come to leave Australia, and honestly, what a way to kick off the adventure! Some time with Mark and the chance to catch up with an old friend has left me thoroughly relaxed—yet itching to head off solo and explore New Zealand. Fun fact: NZ was the first country to give women the vote and, importantly for me, the first country on this trip I’ve never visited before.

It’s fair to say my living standards are about to nosedive as I enter the hostel dorm phase of the journey. I’ll probably be old enough to be most people’s mum—or even their gran—but hey, I’m looking forward to hiking without worrying about snakes and soaking up that legendary Kiwi scenery.

The drive from Gerroa to Eden was beautiful. The weather perked up, and we soon understood why they call it the Sapphire Coast. The ocean’s colours were so vivid they made Instagram filters look lazy. Photos? Forget it—they don’t do it justice.

Oysters were everywhere, as was Aussie humour. At the Bermagui Motel, I asked the owner if he needed my passport. His reply?

“Nah, I don’t care if you’re in a stolen car and take all our money—I just care that you have a good time.”

We wandered through charming old towns like Central Tilba, where original buildings still stand proud, and learned about Eden’s whaling history. Enter Old Tom, the legendary orca who led a pod that helped whalers by herding whales in exchange for lips and tongues. This bizarre partnership lasted from the 1840s to the 1930s. Nature never fails to surprise! Shame we missed whale-watching season.

We sampled classic Aussie pubs and even an RSL club. The gambling scene? Eye-opening. Dog races from around the globe streamed live, and there was a whole room dedicated to fixed-odds betting machines. Vegas would blush.

We clocked up serious steps along stunning beaches—especially the day I planned a 4.5-mile walk to a brewery for lunch and beer tasting. Unfortunately it was closed. Cue an extra 4.5 miles back. Mark deserves a medal for patience, especially in the face of missing beer. I have settled on VB as my favourite beer, same as when I visited 30 years ago, Mark has tasted a much wider selection and I think it mostly now liking the Coopers and Furphy, which also happens to be Australian slang for untrue or improbabal rumour, or fake news ln modern parlance. We even bought our own snags and had a proper BBQ.

And finally a fishing trip in which we caught nothing but the children on the boat did. I had one on the line but failed to get it in the boat before it escaped.

New Year’s Eve was low-key but lovely: a Chinese meal (because everything else stopped serving at 8 pm) followed by community fireworks. Then came the long drive back to Sydney, with just 24 hours for Mark to squeeze in some city life before his flight. We managed coastal walk, dinner in Bondi, a stroll through the Botanic Gardens, a peek at the Opera House and Harbour Bridge, and even a ferry to Manly for a final lunch overlooking the sea. Not bad for a whirlwind day!