I was a little relieved to wake up feeling as I did Saturday morning; an able-minded member of human society again but still in a great deal of pain. My brain knew that Brisbane was a long way, but nothing I compared it to seemed to give my brain the sense of distance I would be dealing with. I decided to just take it as it came, so bring on the Hyundai.

The car was brand new, registered Western Australia with just 3,800 km on it. We were going to add at least another third on that. We had snacks, supplies and ample water for the desert of broken glass that was my throat. A quick glance at the road map, then we shot off north over the harbour bridge, waving a fond farewell to Sydney (for now).

After about ninety million traffic-sodden intersections of north Sydney, we arrived at the Pacific Highway. This is exactly as you might imagine it (minus the Pacific part admittedly, which is typically 4-5 km away). But it was just the kind of heavy-duty, 18-wheeler, cliff-lined, palm-tree’d, sweeping vista’d freeway that I (and many cooped up UK drivers) always wanted to drive on.

We drove for ages, and then some. It was a big ol’ highway. I took a scenic detour, then we decided against it for time was pressing, so we rejoined the Pacific. We continued driving. Time passed. George R. R. Martin probably wrote another book. Then finally, we came upon Newcastle, for we needed a break. And how far along the route was this great leap to Newcastle?

About a fifth, actually.

Still, I was enjoying the scenery and the geographical milkshake of placenames, if not the fact that my throat felt drier than the rocks by the roadside. Shadows were beginning to lengthen by this point, so we settled on reaching Armidale. But by Tamworth, some 150km short, it was pitch black so we grabbed some fuel just in case. When we did eventually get to Armidale it was just 8pm, but it felt like midnight. We found a motel, more expensive than we’d hoped but very fancy all the same, so took it.

The next morning, I was excited for two reasons. One: my throat had gotten much better and I could actually swallow without spasm. And two: we were about to embark on the Waterfall Way, a stretch of road between Armidale and Coffs Harbour that had been the whole reason we’d ventured inland on the way up in the first place.

The road is dotted with scenic views and lookout spots, many being a few km down the road so we pressed on. However, at Ebor we decided to stop. There was a resting spot, with several paths leading down to lookout points. I cannot describe the awe that unfolded when I stepped out onto them, but some pictures might give you a vague idea.

We spent an hour or so looking around this beautiful place before returning to the car to pick up our trip to Brisbane once more. Concerned with timing, I suggested we head for Grafton rather than Coffs Harbour, as it’s further north and we’d already seen waterfalls. On paper (specifically the map’s paper) this might seem sensible. However we didn’t realise the road taking the north route was a tiny winding pass going up and down through countless mountains for some 90km at an average of 30-40 km an hour. This drive had got truly rural!

Finally we emerged from the mountains and rejoined the Pacific Highway, with just 2-3 hundred km left to go. My throat needed dousing, so we stopped and I got one of those tasty frozen coke drinks at a McDonalds. Luckily in New South Wales there is a McDonalds about every 30km and usually a sign telling you how far the next one or two are from grasp. I dare someone somewhere to try to reach Queensland from Sydney by stopping to eat at every McDonalds. Your heart would not survive.

We reached Brisbane at last by the late hours of sunset. Despite some discomfort, my throat was much better. The room was comfy and kitted out with all we would need, which was good. We’re to be here for another 3 weeks, doing some work if all was to plan!