Bear Tracks | Forster-Tuncurry, NSW

A stop in Forster sends Peter 'The Bear' Thoeming down memory lane, recalling off-season Spain, faded seaside accommodation and country hospitality.

A chance overnight stop in Forster sparks memories of another off-season coastal town half a world away. From sangria-fuelled nights on a deserted Spanish beach to faded Australian motels, The Bear reflects on the strange charm of places caught between the crowds.

Back in, when… 1980, I suppose, in late October, Mrs Bear and I were camped right by the beach somewhere south of Barcelona with our travelling companions, another Australian couple. We’d found one of those slapdash Mediterranean campgrounds, with shelters built from off branches of trees and roofed with thick, torn canvas of dubious origin and desperately anaemic-looking tree seedlings planted in car tyres. But the place was ‘open’, which meant that the power was on in the near-forgotten amenities building and there was even hot water for showers – all at bargain off-season prices.

Over the rustic-looking shelters, intended in season for the ubiquitous campervans, loomed dark multi-story blocks of holiday flats. They looked like their representations in cartoons – windows drawn with a ruler and pen, and only a very occasional one lit. While we were setting up, I estimated the number of flats in one of them and then counted the windows showing light. One in maybe a hundred, and even then it seemed that someone had just left the lights on when they returned to England, rather than that there were current inhabitants.

“We were lucky, though (or thought we were at the time), and found two large jugs of sangria at off-season prices”

All the nearby shops were closed for the season, so Neil and I had to ride quite a distance towards Barcelona to buy supplies. We were lucky, though (or thought we were at the time), and found two large jugs of sangria at off-season prices, along with the bread and vegetables we were looking for. After dinner we built a driftwood fire on the narrow beach in front of the campground, propped the sangria bottles where they would be warmed by the flames and made ourselves comfortable around the fire in our riding gear.

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It was a surreal night and the next morning’s hangovers were vicious, but somehow the memory has given me an odd kind of sympathy for vacation towns in the off season. After all, despite shaking hands and bloodshot eyes, we were able to ride away in the morning.

I would not like you to think that Forster, on the mid-north coast of New South Wales, is ever like that off-season Spanish holiday town, although the empty-looking high rises are certainly there. But when I stopped off there recently, I discovered that my usual motel, across the rickety long bridge in Tuncurry, was booked out. I found accommodation in Forster instead, in one of those old motels where the walls have seen too many coats of paint, the carpet has felt too many grubby feet and the carpentry never quite meets as it should. It reminded me of that Spanish campsite.

Fortunately, Forster has one of my favourite country restaurants, the Spice Monkey, and they had room for me. The food was interesting and well-spiced as ever. Although I did perhaps drink a little too much of the Treachery Brewing Co.’s outstanding Dunes Pale Ale, it was not enough to cause a hangover. And despite the just-off-centre handyman style of the motel’s construction, I slept well.

“I discovered that my usual motel, across the rickety long bridge in Tuncurry, was booked out”

In the morning, the annoying one-way system meant that I ate a muffin decorated with a comprehensively dead blossom of some kind for breakfast, but there you go. A little more determination would no doubt have yielded an egg and bacon roll.

I’m happy to recommend Forster – and even more Tuncurry – to you. Off to the west is the National Motorcycle Museum, and the Lakes Way that connects the town to the rest of the world. Bulahdelah is scenic, even if the road surface is appalling. Carefully distributed signs advise that the local council has $100 million to fix the road; I just hope they get on with it, and it’s enough.

Oh, and it looks like something else is going to be built on the site of the incinerated Rock Roadhouse south of Bulahdelah on the Pacific Motorway. In case you are not familiar with this seminal piece of Australian heritage, The Rock Roadhouse was built as part of Leyland Brothers World, a 40-hectare theme park.

“In case you are not familiar with this seminal piece of Australian heritage, The Rock Roadhouse was built as part of Leyland Brothers World”

Created by Aussie bogan heroes and documentary filmmakers Mal and Mick Leyland, the park included a 1:40-scale replica of Uluru, amusement rides, a playground, museum, roadhouse, and bush camp. Despite attracting around 400,000 visitors annually, the park struggled financially and by 1992, the Leylands defaulted on loans. The collapse bankrupted the brothers and ended their filmmaking partnership.

That’s a sombre note on which to end a story, I know, but at least there’s the new construction. We can only hope that the result is something of equal bogan glory to a miniature Uluru.