Early in 2005 I travelled up and down Australia’s east coast on assignment for Lonely Planet. This was for LP’s East Coast Australia book and I ended up writing the introductory chapters for the book,a s well as the Central Coast New South Wales section. All up, my contributions totalled 18,000 words.

I’m only including excerpts from my introductory and special-subject material, rather than accommodation and restaurant reviews or transport information.

Selected material from East Coast Australia 2, Lonely Planet Publications, October 2005. Author: Simon Sellars.

SNAPSHOT: EAST COAST AUSTRALIA
It’s been a topsy-turvy year for the good old East Coast. For the first time, the population of New South Wales dropped below a third of Australia’s total, largely due to Sydney’s exorbitant housing prices, way out of reach of the ‘average’ family.

This is fairly shocking news. NSW (especially Sydney) has been the leader of the pack for so long, it’s hard to believe it’s now lagging behind Victoria and Queensland in some very crucial areas. But the stats don’t lie: Victoria is king of the heap in terms of annual output; Queensland provides the highest rate of job growth; Melbourne is the country’s fastest-growing city.
As you travel the coast, watch for those canny Sydneysiders. They’re the ones with the Cheshire-cat grins, having sold their properties for big bucks to escape Sin City for the northern grail of sun, surf and inexpensive accommodation, or the southern pleasures of affordable art, decent coffee and restaurant meals for under $100.

They might be leaving the state for other reasons. A rampant locust plague continues to torment NSW crops; a recent cookbook advocates catching the little buggers and turning them into dinner to ease the problem. Meanwhile, in Newcastle’s outer suburbs, a spate of frozen chickens falling from the sky had the locals scratching their heads as they repaired smashed roofs, windows and car bonnets. Bizarre theories were put forth. Some say birds plucked the chooks from garbage dumps, dropping them from the heavens when they became too heavy; others say a crazed madman with a grudge fired them from the hills with a home-made bazooka. The mystery was never solved.

In the far north of Queensland, the problems are with thawed-out wildlife. Up there, it seems a crocodile mauls a tourist every year (recently, a granny leapt on a croc that was attacking a tourist, diverting the killing machine with her walking stick until help arrived). The perennial issue of controlled culling for the beasties is therefore a hot topic once more.

And what of popular culture? It’s possibly the hardest time ever to get a home-grown feature film made, although quality facilities mean that Hollywood productions have flocked to the East Coast in recent times. The situation reflects wider issues: do we plump for the Yankee dollar and a watered-down identity, or do we hang on to limited economic appeal and a distinctive cultural voice? In the end, it could be a moot point: the rise in value of the Australian dollar might just prove to be a stumbling block for overseas producers.

In sport, rugby, an East Coast obsession, suffered a cauliflower ear when the Aussies lost the World Cup to the Poms. Even in cricket Australia can’t take a trick, despite dominating – the Aussies have been the best for so long, they’ve run out of top-quality opponents. Home crowds along the coast are simply bored with watching the opposition get spanked day in day out.
Maybe we need a new sporting obsession to take the heat off – anyone for checkers?

DESTINATION: EAST COAST AUSTRALIA
Images from the East Coast are among the first things tourists associate with Australia: the Sydney Harbour Bridge; sea and sand; the glitz of the north. The East Coast is an immersive experience: its highways and byways can whisk you from urban surrounds to beachside towns and tropical climes before you can say ‘roadkill’.

Even the major cities are a study in contrasts. There’s Melbourne, with its European-inspired café society crossbred with Australia’s boldest artistic community. There’s Sydney, with a host of natural attractions, including its prominent harbour, and a cockiness that grabs you by the scruff of the neck. Then there’s Brisbane, once the ugly duckling, now blooming with sultry vibes and a relaxed attitude.

In among the urban sprawls, it’s ‘choose your own adventure’ time. Want to chase the sun and surf (or perhaps other travellers?). Get a ‘Brazilian’, pack your wax and board and hightail it to loose-as-a-goose Byron Bay. Fancy a bit of green? Try the singular Cape Tribulation coast, where the steamy rainforest meets the beach. Got what it takes to sleep with the fishes? Strap on a snorkel and get jiggy with it in the crystal-clear waters of the Great Barrier Reef.

Elsewhere, why don’t you watch whales, cultivate your dreadlocks, feed the dolphins, sink a stubby, canoe through the everglades, sail through archipelagos, indulge in top-notch wine and cheese…

Get the picture?

Loads of Aussies travel the East Coast, too, and that’s a good sign. You know you’re backing the right horse when the locals thank their lucky stars they’ve got the best backyard around.

THE CULTURE: EAST COAST AUSTRALIA
Regional Identity
Shrimp-eating, beer-guzzling Paul Hogan has a lot to answer for. The actor’s long succession of beloved comedy characters skewered Australian cultural peccadilloes with pinpoint accuracy. Hoges’ cultural cache may be long depleted, but his legacy endures – the worldwide perception of Australians as tanned, outback-dwelling, muscle-bound, croc wrestlers. But fair crack of the whip: Aussies are a bit more diverse than that (not that there’s anything wrong with a beer or ten and a bit of bush in your blood).

Take Victoria’s capital, Melbourne. The city has a unique, stylish European flavour – almost half of Melbourne’s population hails from other shores, importing the best cuisine, fashion and culture from their respective nations. There’s a stack of clichés about Melbourne, too: the weather’s crap; the locals wear all black; they love to have a go at that big, hedonistic city to the north; coffee and cafés have replaced beer and pubs. But there’s a reason why they’re clichés – they tend to be true.

Up the coast in New South Wales, we find an identity established in the past. NSW was the site of Australia’s first permanent European settlement, and as such, the New South Welsh often believe the rest of the country should come to them. That pose has spread from the swish capital, Sydney, to the coastal region, where lively developments are springing up – like Newcastle, once branded an industrial nightmare. Naturally, there’s a flipside: residents of a once-remote spot such as Nimbin fear being priced out, claiming the hordes are due any second. Another Gold Coast, perhaps?

Speaking of Sydney, her locals are a self-assured lot, and why not? Sydney may be Australia’s oldest city, but she’s far beyond staid, fizzing and popping instead with sybaritic energy. Sydney loves a party (think Mardi Gras), and any excuse will do (think the Olympics – just kidding). Backed with a stellar economy and lush outdoor attractions (think stretches of sun-drenched beach), and there’s good reason for that famous confidence (think arrogance – according to other states).

That leaves the Sunshine State – Queensland. Superficially, Queenslanders epitomise the Australian lifestyle of sun, surf and smiles perhaps more than any other state. The classic Aussie drawl is thick and impenetrable north of the capital, Brisbane, where life is decidedly more languorous. Queenslanders tend to express outright contempt when visitors (mainly Melburnians) talk of brutal winter climes. Easy for them – they have 300 days of sunshine a year, so they can afford to glam it up.

Southerners like to refer to Brisbane as ‘BrisVegas’ and ‘Brisneyland’, thumbing their noses at the city’s undeniable glitz. As the gateway to the tourist traps up north, perhaps a degree of ‘cheese’ is unavoidable. But Brisbane, like Newcastle, is no longer the soporific hollow of old – this is the 21st century, after all. With its tropical landscape, temperate climate and developing arts scene, Brisbane is coming up as one of Australia’s most desirable locations.

SYDNEY TO THE MAX
If ever a footy team channelled the spirit of its city, it was the Sydney Swans outfit from the mid-1980s. Bankrolled by the eccentric doctor/entrepreneur, Geoffrey Edelsten, the Swans dominated the competition for a couple of incandescent years, regularly kicking massive scores as spearheaded by their talismanic forward Warwick Capper. With his white boots, bum-hugging shorts and Rod Stewart–style mane, Capper’s flamboyance was only matched by the Swanettes, the team’s equally scantily clad, equally blonde cheerleading squad – oh, and the good doctor himself, of course. Edelsten and his model wife Leanne had a penchant for conspicuous consumption: pink limos and helicopters, gold-plated bathroom fittings, that kind of thing. The whole circus was ‘Sydney’ to the max: loud, crass and ultra-confident…until it all went horribly wrong.

Within the space of just three years, Edelsten had succumbed to one of the most telling ‘diseases’ of the excessive 80s: corporate bankruptcy. Like fellow Aussie high-fliers, Christopher Skase and Alan Bond, Edelsten’s vapour-thin infrastructure and ‘paper’’ fortune was a flimsy house of cards just waiting to be blown away.

When the doctor couldn’t afford to pay the bills, the Sydney Swans haemorrhaged: top players left and the fans deserted in droves. Despite the glitter and the hype, the Swans still hadn’t captured the premiership, ostensibly the reason for the team’s existence.

GNARLY PODS, SCRIBBLY INSECTS AND TALL STRANGLERS
Aussies love flora. We even named our favourite brand of margarine ‘Flora’. Get the message? And along the East Coast, there’s a diverse spread (get it?) of flora. That’s because the habitats are rich and the rainfall is reasonably high (by Australian standards) – 200mm to 500mm per year.

Estuaries and coastal lakes are surrounded by melaleucas (paperbarks), callistemons (bottlebrushes), leptospermums (tea trees, often shaped by the wind) and avicennia (or ‘mangrove’ to you, chief). And how about that mangrove? A little Aussie battler, rugged and rough as guts, the mangrove survives saltwater inundation with an arsenal of tricks. It expunges excess salt through its leaves; its tangled root systems allow it to ‘breathe’ when exposed at low tide; and it stores oxygen in spongy tissues for use during high tide. Now, that’s tough! Adaptable! Bet you can’t store oxygen in spongy tissues.

In the forest areas that back the beaches, you’ll do well to avoid the needle-like foliage of casuarinas (she-oaks); xanthorrhoeas (grass trees), with their long, woody flower spikes; acacias (wattles), characterised by clusters of fuzzy, yellow-balled flowers at spring and winter; and the idiosyncratic, gnarled seed pods and furry flowers of the coastal banksia (Banksia integrifolia).

Not far back from the shore is the archetypal Australian ‘bush’ – forests with a full complement of eucalypt (gum tree) species. Fair dinkum, you thought the mangrove was adaptable? Get a load of the ubiquitous eucalypt. Its unique temperament is designed to give it a fighting advantage in this harsh land: its leaves have a waxy coating to reduce water loss and fragrant oil content to discourage herbivores. The oil is what gives the bush its bluish tinge – think ‘Blue Mountains’, if you’re having trouble.

Eucalyptus maculata (spotted gum), with its conspicuously spotted and dimpled bark, is ever present, but also keep your peepers peeled for E. sclerophylla (scribbly gum), with odd, scribbly insect tracks on the bark.

Although forest types change according to geography and other environmental conditions, pockets of warm temperate forests are found everywhere from far-eastern Gippsland to the subtropical forests at Port Macquarie. Northern Queensland’s tropical rainforest covers just 0.3% of the continent, but it contains about half of Australia’s plant species. Strike a light – that’s really dense.

Some species are found across several rainforest types. Like tall strangler figs, with their distinctive lattice-buttressed roots – these babies make an appearance in rainforests from Port Macquarie to the far northern reaches of the Queensland tropical coast.

CENTRAL COAST NEW SOUTH WALES (intro)
Although the NSW Central Coast might not be as popular as the North Coast, it’s not quite as subdued as the South Coast – culturally (and geographically), it’s somewhere in between. Extending from Gosford to Port Macquarie, it’s got utopian beaches, lakes that shimmer, sumptuous national parks – all of it balm for stressed city slickers, jaded workers and jealous internationals. But it’s also got secluded inlets and dainty historical towns…along with a dollop of over-development.

Newcastle is the big noise here, a former steel town that’s now concentrating on promoting other assets, like its beaches, its harbour and its de facto status as capital of the region. From here, you can explore the sumptuous Hunter Valley, with its collection of quality vineyards, all of them refreshingly attitude-free and welcoming of novices and viticulturists alike.

Beyond the Hunter is a series of inlets and bays that will make grandma swoon and junior squeal. Fresh seafood, azure water and sand in your joints – these are timeless pleasures that cut across generations and Port Stephens is the exemplar, with its collection of sheltered coves: Anna Bay, Nelson Bay and Shoal Bay.

The Pacific Highway bifurcates the region, a mainline blacktop cable plugged in to the electric climes up north. Many of the sights mentioned below are off the highway, though, and there’s more besides. Maybe just throw the map away every now and then, throw a few random right-hand turns instead, and stop and smell the wax flowers.