Day 2: Moruya Heads to Eden

At 6:45am Caroline gave me the weather forecast as she made tea.
"It's going to be horrible,' she joked 'Gales. Storms. High seas. Milk?"
"Milk is a little unusual. If there's anything about blood we should go home to be with our loved ones."

The beach at Moruya heads is absolutely beautiful. And I've seen some beautiful things in my time, let me tell you. I've seen Rachel Teague's underwear drawer twice - once in Year 8 and again in Year 10. As my French friend currently serving fifteen years says "Girls are like old style photography: the best part is watching them develop."
The point is the beach really is beautiful.








Mogo Zoo is a private zoo specialising in at-risk species. It is very well presented. The animals are in superb condition and obviously very well cared for.
The Red pandas were freshly washed and had been hung out to dry.

Tamarinds, marmosets, Syrian brown bears, sumatran tiger, bengal tigers, servals, snow leopards, white lions, cape hunting dogs, the otters (Bonny and Buffy) at feeding time were an absolute delight. Go there.

Since we were out of the one-day travel radius of Sydney I suggested we play 'Spot the Asian' with 10 points awarded for each sighting. The winner would pay for my birthday dinner. There would be no point playing 'Spot the of-middle-eastern-appearance'.

We had lunch in Narooma.

The water is beautifully clear and spectacular shades of blue depending on depth.

I walked into the hotel in Eden.

Sailors were gathered around dice and flagons. They were merrily blowing whistles, ringing bells and drinking tar.

I hornpiped my way to the bar and asked for accomodation.

The barman fixed me with his one eye.

"Oooh, it's lodgings you want, is it?"

The room fell quiet except from one old sea dog sobbing for his lost love.

Hands moved closer to concealed weapons, and wordless conversation passed from tanned face to tanned face.

I explained that I was English and would be most obliged to this hoary band if they would treat my Aunt with the respect she is due, and in return I would show my gratitude in a round of dark rum and a dirty joke.

We had an accord.

(I won't recount the joke here as I consider it to be in poor taste.)

At nine that night I walked down to the sea and onto the wharf where the fishing fleet and two tugs were tied up. A very stiff wind blowing made me think of Halifax, but without the -26 wind chill.