The most easterly point of the Australian land mass at Cape Byron.
Walking around Byron Bay, I noticed a bunch of print outs "Wolfmother, tonight 8:00 no cover." Checking out the pub at 8:00 revealed, yes, it was the real Wolfmother doing a free show!
Soggy camping.
Broken exhaust. At this stage, I was getting rather fed up with the 107. I had been chasing a coolant leak, the spring had gone flat, and now the exhaust had fallen off on the highway to Newcastle.
Only thing to do... laugh and fix it. Two cans from the ditch, reusing the fiberglass wrapping and two hose clamps, and were on the road again!
Always happy around Land Rovers.
Strange where things end up. This was in Geoff's shed, he found it at a local wreckers.
Hockey down under? Yes please!
Fixing the coolant leak and exhaust. Thanks again Geoff for the shed space!
Thinking of trading for speed and danger.
Leaving the 107 at Geoff's in Newcastle, I took the train into Sydney for a few days of exploring on foot.
Standard issue tourist shot.
Intending to take the ferry to the Olympic park, I hopped on the wrong one which only went to Cockatoo Island. Turns out, this was way more intersting for a rust hound.
Notice the crane in the left of the sign picture.
Wondering how I could fit this in my checked luggage.
Dreaming of all the Rovers I could fit in here.
Is that really SNOW??? In Sydney? In summer?
Yes it is, and for good reason, movie sets were being prepared all over the island for a new Angelina Jolie directed movie. Shhh, I didn't tell anyone.
The docks and railroad have been added for the set.
Yes, they really were.
Bondi Beach.
Opera House better by night.
After a few days in Sydney, I was ready to be out of the City. Back to Newcastle to get the 107. A bit more exploring, then on the road again.
A quick trip to the Hunter Valley to stretch the legs of another 107.
Heading Southwest, through the Blue Mountains.
Wentworth Falls
Three Sisters, not that impressive. Or maybe it was the cloudy day?
Valleys surrounding, much more impressive.
Lake Lyell camping.
Back roads to Bathurst.
Lusting for a vintage race bike.
Tyres squealing, camping gear sliding, and me giggling like an idiot.
Now back to sniffing for old Rovers.
