Travel Stories
Back in August, we had a special initiative in the Travel category where we invited you to share your fondest memories of landscapes, cityscapes, seascapes and skyscapes through your travel stories and anecdotes.
Here are our winning stories from the Travel initiative! Hope you enjoy them!
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What was your most picturesque and idyllic holiday in the countryside?
jennifer h said: The Wild Flowers of the West. We were driving the inland route through the harsh desert and mining towns from Port Hedland to Perth, when suddenly the landscape changed and as far as the eye could see the ground was full with a massive carpet of colour; from a Purple Lavendar colour to pinks whites and yellow. Not another person in sight, we were alone, amongst a garden of Eden.
What was your most memorable beach or seaside holiday?
Billet- Doux [overwhelmed] recounted their favourite seaside holiday: I’d probably be safe stating something like Surfers Paradise/Sunshine Coast, but I’ve never been an extravagant person. There’s a little place just near Palm Springs in Sydney called Currawong and it’s absolutely my most favourite place in the world.
It’s only accessible by boat, which is what I think makes it so special, because it’s the perfect place to escape from the city life. However, there was Barry, the laid-back farmer, who made sure everything was functioning properly, and he drove his ute around. I remember he used to lift the dogs into the tray and my sisters and I would climb in with them, and he’d drive us up to our cottages in the bush. But I preferred walking. We’d walk away from the stretch of cottages and to the lake, where we’d go swimming and collect shells to make necklaces.
There’s no communication out there, except from the payphone near the office. You could find reception on the wharf sometimes, if you tried, but my mobile was switched off most of the time I was over there. The wharf was great. It was loaded with wheelbarrows so people could wheel their luggage to their cottage up in the bushes. However, we’d usually end up using them as chairs, and lounging out in the sun with a book. And when books weren’t an option, we’d push each other off the wharf, flipping and diving at during high tide, because your toes would skim the seaweed during low tide.
There’s no stores, TV, proper bathrooms, restaurants, clubs etc out there. It’s just you, a bunch of other groups and the owners. Sucks if you needed to go to hospital. I remember a girl broke her arm once on the rocks, and Barry had to ship her back to the mainland. Those rocks were fantastic. When I went, I was only a child made of skin and bones, so slipping through the cracks in the rocks was an effortless task. I always went home grazed and bloody by the end of the week, which I never really minded 
I’d find a decent sized nook behind shark rock and read or draw pictures.
Every night, we’d have a barbecue or campfire, and dance around with sparklers, toasting marshmallows and playing 44 home with all the other kids that went. A midnight swim or boat trip in summer was always a treat, too.
But the day was just as good. There was a tennis court, and I learned to play ping-pong in the little shed. Dad used to disappear off with my friends dad in to the golf course and not return for hours. Mum liked fishing on the wharf. I remember once, a guy caught a giant squid, and it inked everywhere. The main deck of the wharf was saturated black. It was great!
I loved running up and down the beach, building teepee’s and sandcastles, making friends and getting away from the hectic city life. I hate the city. In Currawong, you can see the stars. All of them. And pollution isn’t an issue.
I haven’t been since I was I was 13. I’m 18 now, and can remember every detail. It’s such a special place. Ah, I love feelings of nostalgia. They make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside
~:)~ told us about this special experience: It was a magnificent night on Sydney Harbour. The bridge was lit up, the street lights near the harbour just illuminated the water and it was brilliant, may I say! The lady sitting next to me, dear old thing, hadn’t been back to Sydney in less than 4 years. She was tearing up and as I watched her cry I asked her why she was so sad. She told me that she had lost her daughter in Sydney due to an illness and was visiting her grave. The lady was from overseas and she told me to appreciate the people and things surrounding us. Don’t ever let them go. As she told me that I looked at the window and saw how brilliant the bridge looked. I felt lucky to be able to experience this. It was just breath taking. Sydney is amazing. That lady taught me something I’ll hold forever.
From that flight.. I learnt alot. I now lead a better life.
What was your best moment in a foreign city? Why was it so memorable?
snurbles@everest recounted his experiences in Cape Town, South Africa: I went to Cape Town by train from Grahamstown via Alicedale. About 2 days travel. Part of the journey was by steam train which was wonderful but nobody had told me to close the windows when we went through long tunnels! We stopped for refreshments in a little town called De Aar in the Karroo. The rain was torrential but I was told that I was privileged as it was the first rain for 7 years! As the journey progressed, the prospect of Cape Town became more exciting as my fellow passengers were preparing me for Table Mountain and the life in the Cape. Because Cape Town is a major city of culture and you may want to meet like-minded people, it’s a good idea to base yourself at Cape Town’s Central Library for the first part of the day and travel out from there then in the evenings intermingle with music culture at the City Hall in Darling Street. The days are free to explore what Sir Francis Drake called: ‘The Fairest Cape.’
The best moment for me during my exploration was finding a pub full of ex-pats. They became friends of mine. One of them told me not to forget to ring her at work on the Monday. I rang her up: ‘May I speak to Anne?’ to be told,’We’re terribly sorry, but Anne’s been fired!’ I saw Anne later and we had a good laugh about it.
Also, one of the people on the train was playing in the Sunday International League at Greenpoint Stadium and him and others came to see me later to introduce me to the Cape Town life.
Induction into that life included a stay in a residential hotel in Maitland / Salt River industrial area where one night having looked forward to the promised tomato bredie all day, got home to find that it had disappeared from the oven. I mentioned my plight to the barman who told me not to worry and gave me some ostrich biltong. It filled the gap. But it also gave me food poisoning!
I’ve been told that the Cape is the California of Africa.
It’s certainly well into the arts!
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And if you are inspired enough by this and are preparing to set off somewhere anytime soon, Bon Voyage! 
Kate
Community Manager
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