May 8th and 9th, 2011 – Enjoying Port Macquarie

May 8^th Happy Mother’s Day! Another blue-sky day gave us the perfect catalyst to head to shore and go for a walk. First we checked in with the marina and prepaid a week on the mooring ball just in case we should decide to stay that long. We then walked across the street to the little shopping mall, window-shopped and, finding nothing of great interest, set off for town and a walk along the colorful jetty. The Iron Man event was here just last week so we figured we would see some new artwork on the boulders and we were not disappointed. Because of Mother’s Day the place is chockers with picnickers, waterfront diners and families out to enjoy the lovely day. Even the famous local pelicans were out en masse!  We enjoyed a very nice lunch at Finnians Irish Pub and then walked it off on one of the many trails that grace this town. We returned home pretty well pooped so we called it a day.

May 9^th brought yet another glorious day so this time we set off in pursuit of a 5k nature trail that we had noticed yesterday.  It meandered past an old turn of the century (mid1800’s-1900’s) cemetery, through the mangroves, along the river and up into the deeply forested area that is home to 100’s of BATS! Flying Foxes, they are termed, just like in Tonga, Fiji and other parts of the S. Pacific. They screeched loudly as we approached and then became very agitated and restless as we passed underneath their hanging hulks. It was like a contagion. As we passed beyond them they settled back down until the next intruder dared approach. We reminded ourselves not to look up and to keep our mouths closed if we did as we passed under group after group of the hanging rubbery-winged creatures. I was real thankful I was wearing a hat as I stepped past the plentiful droppings of guano. I was on the lookout for leeches in the muddy areas and Frank was ever wary of snakes. But really it was a great hike and afterward we were starved so we hit the town center, lunched and then walked back the mile or so to the marina.  We’re now back on board reading (well I’m about to). Frank is buried in a James Patterson and I am immersed in a Wilbur Smith.