Anniversary the 10th: A Bisaster of Epic Proportions

A.k.a National Lampoon's Hill Family Vacation

Destination: Forgotten Valley Retreat, Wisemans Ferry, NSW
Expected Journey Time: 1hour 45minutes
Actual Journey Time: 6hours

That's 4 hours to get to Wisemans Ferry and 2 hours to find the retreat in an area roughly twice the length and width of Eastgardens Shopping Centre. Let's find out how we managed that shall we?

Sit back and strap yourselves in folks; it's going to be a long and bumpy ride. Catheters are recommended.

Episode 1: The Drive Up

We begin our tale of tragedy and triumph, of victory and bisaster, at 8pm this past friday night when we finally got underway and hit the road on our 10th Wedding anniversary family weekend vacation. After dropping Becka home, detouring via Mari's parents place to pick up some russian snacks (containers full of chicken schnitzels and rissoles) and then to Uncle David's to pick up the GPS (which I have come to know as That Bloody Stupid Female Canine for reasons that will become apparent as we go on) we were an hour into the journey and not yet out of Sydney. It was a sign of things to come.

Having been to the area we were heading to (Wisemans Ferry) before Unc offered to setup the GPS (@#$%#^!) with the destination and evaluate the route it proposed. This is where we hit our first obstacle; the road on the accommodation confirmation was not in the GPS. However after about 10mins perseverance Unc got it sorted enough so that it would "get me to Wisemans Ferry and from there it's good luck mate"; good enough for now, thanks Unc!

At this point since Mari had wanted me to get home from work earlier and to get going at least an hour earlier than we had done she was in no mood for any further delays or other developments not unknown to crop up on one of my operations; at this point Mari had no idea where we were going as it was meant to be a surprise. Given this need for secrecy Mari's traditional job as navigator was a bit restricted as she was not allowed to look too far ahead. This didn't last too long however, as you'll soon see, and given the way the night developed I'm glad she got not quite fair but at least some warning.

It started out fine however, the GPS directed us to get onto the Pacific Hwy and (according to Mari) remain on it for 67kms. Given that the GPS had only charged for 30mins (the Schotts got late notice we wanted to borrow it) we figured we should conserve the batteries even though it was supposed to be such a short drive. To that end once the nice lady (having not yet shown her true colors) advised us to stick to the same road for so long we switched her off and zero'd the trip meter on the car. Traffic was light for a friday night and the drive up Pacific Hwy was uneventful until we got to Hornsby and I missed my first turn-off where Pacific Hwy has an identity crisis and decides to turn onto a completely different road while the one you're on reverts to whatever it was before it was possessed by Hwy Numero Uno. It does this with alarming regularity. Alarming if you've switched off your GPS in the naive belief that staying on the same road actually entails staying on the same (physical) road. After a complicated set of right hand turns necessitated by my refusal to do an illegal u-turn and a semi-legal 3-point turn necessitated by bloody stupid No Right Turn signs affords us the opportunity to :

• observe teenage girls practicing to become street walkers (given their attire and the fact that they were leaning into cars to talk to boys who were at least smart enough to (a) dress more warmly and (b) not bother getting out of their cars when they dropped by the local hang-out/hooker-training-camp)

• teenage girls desperate to become tomorrows sexual assault headlines (given their attire, the time of night and the area they were traversing - don't get me wrong, I place the blame squarely on the offenders in these cases but just because I think you have the right to walk about at 10 o'clock at night on semi-deserted streets in shorts so short I can tell if you have piercings in interesting places doesn't mean I think it's a smart move)

• have the following marital exchange:

"Do a U-turn"

"No"

"Pull into a driveway and do a 3-pointer"

"I'm trying but I can't find a driveway"

"Driveway... driveway....... drivew-"

"I know! But by the time I see them I'm past them!"

"Slow down?"

"Yes dear"

"Driveway"

"@#$%!"

"Look here's an empty 10 car parking bay, do you think you can make that?!"

"Dunno let's find out, hang on"

"Jesus!"

We get back onto Pacific going in the right direction and make the turn we missed 15mins ago.

So we continue on our merry way, heading down the Pacific Hwy (looking for the love getaway indeed). At about the 50km mark I decide it's time to check in with TBSFC and confirm we are still following her instructions and low and behold what do we find, but that there are now TWO blue lines; one on the Pacific Hwy and one on the freeway. Looking ahead Mari finds that it is leading us to an entrance to the freeway around Brooklyn which will leave us heading BACK to Sydney.

"Impossible!", I proclaim. "I'm sure she is leading us around to the other side of the freeway to continue north!"

Alas it is as Mari says and we find ourselves heading back to Sydney along the F3. After 5 mins I pull over into a breakdown lane and check TBSFC myself and Mari decides that she can't navigate properly if she doesn't know where we are going. I tell her and she rings the place to get directions from where we are, all faith in TBSFC having long since departed.

While she gets directions I discover that TBSFC is in fact leading us back to Hornsby so that we may take the left turn we missed at around the 37km mark onto Galston Rd. While Mari and I debate whether or not to follow the new instructions of the Retreat Proprietors or the GPS's new route the operators ring back and after I inform them we are in fact heading south and not north, proceed to give me exactly the directions the GPS is giving us. And so faith restored in the GPS we get under way once more and make our way back to Hornsby (again) on the F3. We get back, turn around, manage not to miss the turns we missed the first couple of times through, find the turn off to Galston Rd and soon find ourselves descending a densely wooded mountain in a series of tight switch-backs that have Mari constantly telling me to slow to a crawl and freaking out because the trees are "spooky!". Once down the mountain we regain a measure of civilization and proceed to the end of Galston Rd, turn right and proceed for about half an hour down the Old Northern Rd at the end of which we once again find ourselves descending a steep, densely wooded mountainside via a series of tight switch-backs which Mari once more finds unnerving and spooky. At the bottom of the mountainside we spill out onto the main drag of Wisemans Ferry very much as if we had been hammering on a door which someone has suddenly opened spilling us unceremoniously to the floor.

Now, we still do not know where our accommodation is to be found and it is now midnight. However, WF only has one road so we feel fairly confident that it can't be too damned hard to find. Oh how little did we know.

We turned right on the main drag and proceeded slowly along it, looking at all the locations along it's length until abruptly we found ourselves at the end of the road staring at a very dark, closed ferry dock; glad that we had not taken the alternate route north via the F3 which would have had us arrive on the wrong side of the river with no ferry 'till morning. Turning around we proceed even more slowly (assuming we have missed our accommodation somehow on the previous pass) along the main drag looking for our place. We find, right up the other end near the foot of the mountain, a place called "Retreat at Wisemans Ferry" and, hope springing eternal, begin to concoct stories about how the "Forgotten Valley" part must have been removed from the name of the place since we booked. Entering the car park we find it is a fairly standard (and quite substantial) motor inn type affair with all the facilities promised by our accommodation (golf, tennis, pool, etc) and in a cruel twist of fate, aimed squarely at me, sports a parking lot guaranteeing I wont have to worry about dirty great, hairy spiders stowing away in my car.

Cruel because alas it is clearly not the place we are looking for. It looks nothing like the pictures in the brochure. With a heavy heart I turn the car around and make to depart the place, however we stop for a moment for Mari to see if she can get any mobile coverage on either of our phones (mine wins, ha!) and calls the proprietors again. While she's talking with them, the proprietor of the place who's carpark we are currently idling in walks up to the drivers-side window and asks if we need a room. I tell him where we are looking for and he gives us directions (and an offer of a room should we decide to stay) which, much like the 67kms on the Pacific Hwy thing, will turn out to be just slightly wrong enough to send us down the long and lonely road to nowhere. For what will seem like forever.

Tune in next time for :

Episode 2: The Road Goes Ever On... And On.