Megan and Ross, our hosts, kindly invite us upstairs for drinks on Saturday evening. We’ve had a rather awkward moment over the fact that the oven in the apartment doesn’t work and we were given no warning. ‘Our previous two lots of guests didn’t cook,’ Ross says, but that’s irrelevant. Their previous guests probably haven’t been travelling for nine months either; probably didn’t arrive with multiple bags of food that need a fully functioning kitchen to turn them into meals. But Ross is determined to make amends and avoid ill feeling. It’s clear that our dissatisfaction really bothers him; so much so that at 9pm on Friday evening, he drives out to buy a worktop oven just for us. And then he invites us for drinks.
We spend Saturday morning looking at properties and, in between, have coffee at The Cooked Goose at Hyams Beach, where the atmosphere is lively and young and the coffee and cake delicious. The second house we view is architecturally and aesthetically pleasing and it has a reasonable view of St Georges Basin over the roofs of other houses, but neither of us feels a strong enough pull to want to pursue the purchase. Instead we walk away and leave an excited woman from Melbourne to buy it.
Our social meeting with Megan and Ross is a pleasant surprise. We find we have a great deal in common and much to share. They’re widely travelled people who have a son living in London and, like us, they enjoy a mix of outdoor activities and cultural entertainments. We talk about life in Jervis Bay, their reasons for relocating here, what they miss about city life and what they love. After an hour or so of lively conversation, we’ve greatly enjoyed each other’s company and make a plan to have drinks again before we leave.
On Sunday, we visit Milton, a tiny ‘historic’ town (we’re talking 19th century) with quirky clothes shops, galleries and the best vegetarian cafe around. Surprisingly, we discover that this very small community supports its own branch of the U3A and advertises an impressive list of courses. About a mile away, is Mollymook beach, a place I remember visiting in my teens. It’s unrecognisable. Where there were once small fibro cabins, now there are large designer houses taking full advantage of the gorgeous views. The Golf Club clubhouse is one of the largest I’ve seen anywhere and sits at the prime end of the beach. Like so much of NSW’s beautiful ‘remote’ coastline, Mollymook has become the playground of the well off.
And the beaches here are gorgeous. We find we can’t get enough of them. Our nearest, Blenheim, just a walk down the hill and up again, is sublime, with whiter than white sand, clear turquoise sea and gentle waves. Before breakfast we swim, sharing the beach with just two or three other people. We swim after running and again in the early evening. It’s never crowded and the water temperature is around 24 degrees, just cool enough to be refreshing but not cold. It’s blindingly obvious why people move here from the city and this exodus has pushed the house prices to crazy levels. A tiny cottage in Huskisson – the sort once inhabited by people with few resources and now renovated to within an inch of its life – is fetching millions.
Meanwhile, my mother isn’t happy. She has Covid in her care home and is isolated in her room. What’s more, her phone isn’t working and the staff are anything but helpful when it comes to organising some means of communication. ‘I don’t have time for this,’ I hear one of the nurses say to a colleague, when I explain that mum’s phone seems to be non-functional and I need to talk to her. When I get through, I can hear the frustration in her voice. She’s hoping to visit my younger sister in Yamba at the weekend but the staff are not telling her whether or not she’s allowed to go. The truth is they’re overworked and have no time for individual needs. It’s a travesty. A few phone calls and various messages to my sisters later and the trip is organised. But I still don’t know if mum’s been told. ‘Things just get organised around me and I have no say,’ she tells me angrily. But she’s keen to have this trip out, a few days of freedom and to see my sister. I’m hoping for the sake of all concerned that this release from the care home improves her mood.
