Road Trip in Oz

“Have you been to the Never Never Creek?” I keep getting asked this question by the locals in Bellingen, a small country town a few hours drive north of Sydney. January in Australia is stinking hot, and as I pull over into the gravelled car park the dust and humidity seems to rise up in waves.

I kill the engine and am engulfed by the roaring sound of cicadas, my thongs slap across the hot ground as I follow the signs to the Never Never. Getting closer my heart lifts at the sound of water, a luxurious tumbling and gurgling along with children’s shrieks of delight. When I finally glimpse the creek I realise I was unprepared for it’s beauty - it is a magical oasis of coolness and lush green. The creek bed itself is a silvery pathway of smoothed rocks, the water crystal clear, meandering through boulders and swirling in playful eddies.

Others have come to the Never Never to escape the afternoon heat - dogs run in and out of the water, birds flit down from the canopy above and a water dragon scuttles out of sight. People young and old languish in the shallows, toddlers build towers with pebbles and kids float down rapids on boogie boards.

But the water itself when I put my feet in is a shock - it’s FREEZING! The locals smile at me knowingly when I let out a gasp. Are these people out of their minds? I doubt I’ll ever get all the way in, but ever so slowly I creep in deeper and deeper… This is one of the things I’m having to readjust to - remembering the glorious luxury of not having to rush. The coolness is beautiful, erasing the heat of days spent behind the wheel, the madness to finish everything before going away… Before I know it I’m floating on my back remembering the joy of playing in nature.

As the sunlight dims and people start packing up their things I vow to spend every afternoon of my holiday just like this - nothing could beat this simple pleasure. I leave feeling energised and recharged, my skin cool and polished like marble in the residual heat of the day. I shimmy out of my wet swimmers like the locals do and drive back to the motel in only a towel. The sky is a riot of pink and purple, a trail of fruit bats extending to the horizon.

I feel so insanely relaxed that I’m suddenly struck by an idea - those locals knew what they were going on about - the Never Never Creek is possibly the wellspring of timelessness itself!