Waterfall Way- Tuesday, January 12 to 14

The Waterfall Way is rumoured to be one of the most scenic drives in New South Wales, if not Australia. It begins in Armidale, New England, about two hours inland and winds its’ way through four national parks and several towns, ending at Coffs Harbour on the coast.
We began our trip early in the morning on Tuesday, while the air was still cool and a mist hung over the rainforest as the road climbed higher and higher. The curves of the road hug the landscape so well that we are constantly slowing and negotiating another turn. Dane says he wishes we were in a sports car and not a station wagon.
First town along the way is called Walcha and we went into a shop called Brady’s Saddlery, where we met 84-year-old Tom Brady who still hand sews kangaroo leather stock whips. He shows us pictures of himself in his youth, racing dirt bikes and riding bulls. Laughing at himself, he says he was too stupid to know any better but we reassure him that’s what being young is all about. He even takes us out back for a whip cracking session and it’s pretty humorous to watch him continuously loop the long whip over his back and crack it in the air. We both try to imitate him but fail miserably.
Our first waterfall is called Apsley Falls, within Oxley Wild Rivers National Park. It spills over the tallest gorge I’ve ever seen, creating a rainbow at the bottom. The park houses several other beautiful falls, including Wollombi Falls, which is apparently Australia’s second highest sheer drop. The gorges in the park are incredible and reveal thousands of rock layers. Now I wish I’d paid more attention in geology class so I could remember how this process happened.
The travel brochures were right; the drive is definitely scenic. Opportunities abound for taking detours, one of which leads us through farms comparable to English country squires. Even a moss-covered chapel completes the storybook vision. The only way we can tell we’re in Australia is the red dirt road.
Exploring Armidale could take days. The town is home to numerous cathedrals, museums, restaurants and cafés. Even a Harvard-reminiscent private school looms behind a gated fence and perfectly manicured lawns.
Lots of great hiking trails and lookout spots for the various falls in all of the parks means we got some exercise and a reward at the end of the climbs. The views from the tops of the gorges are amazing. Not only can you look straight down from a terrifying height, you can also look out across the landscape for miles.
The wildlife in this area is pretty amazing too. A bright red parrot landed in a tree beside our campsite this morning and we saw a rock wallaby, which looks like a small kangaroo, jumping along in the grass on our hike to the Wollombi Falls. And last but not least, a very large black snake was on the hiking trail. I nearly stepped on it but it never moved. We met a couple later who thought it was deadly and called it a red-bellied black. They also said there was a chance it was a harmless python (I didn’t think pythons were harmless); regardless they were seasoned “bushwalkers”- that’s what they called hiking here- and said they’d never seen such a large snake on the path before. We had to return on the same trail and it was still there, though moved off to the side. And it definitely had a red belly. It wasn’t interested in biting us, because it slithered off the path when we got close. The episode was still enough to prompt Dane to bring out the snakebite kit and we both read the directions.
We continued our drive back towards the coast on Thursday through a fairy-tale land of pretty cows and lush, green pasture on the way to a small town called Dorrigo. Thanks to a high amount of rainfall each year, Dorrigo is known as the “prime breeding and fattening land for cattle.” West of Dorrigo is perhaps the prettiest waterfall I’ve ever seen. Not extraordinarily tall, but it’s triple tiered and framed by rainforest. A clear swimming hole has been formed at the bottom and high rock walls curve around the sides before the water is taken down a narrow river carved in the trees.
Bohemian-chic Bellingen is the next town on the drive before we reach the coast. I really love the small town way of life that I’ve seen thus far. Each town has a main street filled with different shops selling everything one could need for the day. A bakery, butcher, fruit and veg, pharmacist and hardware store are always found and often several different restaurants and coffee shops serving far from basic fare for the foodies. I imagine this must have been (in some respects) what small-town Saskatchewan would’ve been like when my parents and grandparents were growing up. People here congregate and chat with their neighbours in one central meeting spot, the main street.
In Central America, I watched how villages came to life at dusk. As the day cools off, people begin coming out of their houses and sit outside to talk to one another and play cards. In Saskatchewan we don’t have this luxury for most of the year, but even in the summer we keep to our own space and our own families most of the time. You’d never see everyone on a street sitting on their front porch or walking around talking to all of his or her neighbours. And for those who live on farms, a trip to town is rarely the social occasion it once was. Going to town was a big deal for my grandma. Before she left, she would put on lipstick and give herself a foot bath. She loved going for the mail or groceries, and to have a chat and coffee with her friends.
Is our current lack of communication a bad thing? Or just different? Are we losing a function necessary to the success of humanity? Or are we fostering new forms of communication through technology? Whatever the answer is, I don’t know it. You will always learn something by observing how the people in countries different from your own communicate with each other and how that compares to your own ideals.