So we left Strahan and headed back into the wilderness. On winding roads, but not as bad as the road to Queenstown. The turn-off to Rosebery golf course was 7 km before town and easy to miss. A small sign and then a steep loop into a wooded hilltop, there it was: one of the steepest golf courses in the world and incredibly scenic. Only a few caravans were there and we managed to get a spot with a view.
Beautiful nature, beautiful weather, friendly fellow campers. Ten dollars a night per honesty box. When we drove to town for shopping, we discovered that, contrary to its bucolic name, Rosebery was a large active mine – 4 km wide and 1.5 km deep, 500 employees, a greenish lake with effluent, excavated hills, most of the activities underground.
We stayed another day and visited Montezuma Falls – a solid 3-hour return hike along an old mining tramway that had been abandoned about a 100 years ago. It brought back memories of hiking in Europe, where many tracks follow old trading routes or Roman roads. The river valley to the falls used to be bare from mining but had been reclaimed by the rainforest.
Then rain… and our wettest departure/set down any where on our journey. We packed up in pouring rain wading through large puddles, collecting wet items in plastic bags, and moved on to remote and tiny Waratah with a caravan park with all amenities: power, water, and laundry. You paid the post office lady – and she reduced the price by half because hot water was only sometimes available. Power connections were known to be dodgy as well but for us everything worked out just fine.
See the caravan park on the other side of the lake? And that’s the sign:
We had grey-nomad heaven for a couple of days with fantastic weather and the friendliest bunch of other campers. It was like living in a small village where everybody talked to everybody, laughed with each other, shared stories… and then those people left. And the weather turned cold and rainy. Travelling in a caravan is a master class in accepting change.
Liz Mike Travels 