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Trippin' down the south NSW Coast...
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The second glorious day tripping down the New South Wales track began with a breakfast stop at and early morning walk on Warilla Beach, deserted but for a few peeps who were obviously taking a surf before work... leaving us seething with jealousy, and wishing we had a few boards piled on top of our beastly campervan.
It was so chilled, and such a good life - gorgeous weather in winter, a beautiful beaches accompanied by equally beautiful waves, yet another place and experience that made us wonder why anyone lives in England, where all there is to do outdoors in the winter is shuffle around wrapped up like an eskimo on the way to the pub.
We drove through Wollongong on the way, and although I was "reliably" informed that it was an industrial jungle, this assertion was somewhat misleaded, as it looked quite a charming little place with a nice harbour and modern town centre. Just beyond the town centre we hit the steel works, and then it all made sense! Quickly developing an aversion to such views, reminiscent of those in England, we moved on, beachcombing down the coast.
Beyond Warilla we were basking in the glory of flexibility, stopping anywhere that took our fancy. Acting on reccomendations from Sean and Viv who had holidayed down here themselves, we pulled in at Kiama, home of the famous Blowhole Point. The harbour also boasted several large and slightly daunting pelicans, which beat me in a staring contest, and I skalked away, just glad they didn't eat me...
By this point the terrain was beginning to resemble Wales - complete with weather so good it had never been seen by the Welsh, however - with glorious hill drives, lush green fields and sheep galore, albeit with the added bonus of beautiiful beaches and waves.
We made a brief stop at Werri Beach, but all the beaches were suddenly merging into one, and we were being spoilt for choice. Without wanting to take any of it for granted and wanting to appreciate everything seperately, we moved on to Gerroa for the Kingsford Smith Memorial Lookout over Seven Mile Beach, slightly curious at how it was okay for the Aussies to measure beach lengths in miles, an entirely British concept, as beaches are really not the English forte!
Further down the coast, at Jervis Bay, we found the beach to top all beaches, Hyams Beach - rivalling Whitehaven in terms of paradisical beauty, a bona fide white sand heaven, frothing at the edges with bluey green waves and gorgeous views out into the bay. What was even more enchanting was that this beach was also practically deserted - in England, a beach like this would be commercialised beyond belief, and having people camping out on it at the first sign of sunshine.
 
After lunch in paradise, I took over behind the wheel for the last stretch of ocean road, down to Batemans Bay where we pulled in for a stopover at Casey's Beach - our last East coast beach. Whilst incomparable to Hyams Beach, the novelty of beaches for us English folk was yet to wear off, and we were perfectly happy trundling up and down it, savouring the sea air.
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