Last October, we managed to get away for a few days. Flew to Sydney, picked up the 4WD at the airport and after first stopping for a gelato at Cow and Moon: http://www.goodfood.com.au/good-food/food-news/sydneys-cow-and-moon-named-worlds-best-gelato-makers-20140908-3f2c0.html (for any gellato afficionados coming downunder - and our constant first stop every time,) we headed off for Canberra. Stayed at an old railway carriage atop a hill (will leave this story for another time) for one night, then headed back to Sydney.

I saw the sign first. "Bateman's Bay". Of course I turned. The freeway on the way down had been mind-numbing, the same old gumtree over and over. We have a lot of them. Now you also get why I always hire a 4WD.

"Coastal Road guys?"

"You've already turned."

"It will be fun. Bateman's Bay's a great place." I'd been there, before they were born and had some rather fond memories...

"Whatever."

I hadn't taken King's Highway before though. The climb at this point was very gradual, flattish land, lots of farms and glimpses of faraway mountains. Without warning, the farmland gave way to dense forest. The climb got steeper. One of those faraway mountains had now apparently become something we had to cross, in order to reach the coast on the other side.

We stopped for a break at Clyde Mountain. This is part of the Great Dividing Range, a series of mountains 'dividing' Victoria from New South Wales. 'Pooh's Corner' offered up some great views, although we never got to find out how its name had come to be. It was also the highest point, at around almost 800 metres above sea level. We had to get to that sea level.

Now for the 'fun' part: Don't get me wrong, I love off-freeway country driving. Big fan.This damned road though was not fun. We descended those twenty kilometres - only twenty kilometres - in a series of what can only be described as 'hairpin bends from hell'. A clump of signs every few hundred metres warning us about sharp turns and very steep descents. VERY steep descents. I don't think my foot came off the break the entire time. I know, I know, I should have put the car into a lower gear. But it was a brand new model with only 400kms on the clock, and none of us (me really) had bothered to find out how everything worked.

When we'd picked it up, I couldn't even get the thing to start. I had no key, only this two button thing with a Budget tag. How was I to know you had to push a small button on the dash to get the engine started and that your foot had to be on the brake at the same time? In the end (both sons thoroughly embarrassed and pretending we were not related,) I had to call one of the attendants. He laughed.

We made it down to Bateman's Bay then after a short stop for lunch, headed up North. Yeah, it was me again who spotted the "Scenic Route" sign.

"Mum!" This after I had turned.

"We're going uphill again!"

"It's scenic, plus I saw a bus sign. If buses are allowed, it should be fine right?"

So up Moss Vale Road we went, same deal, only the opposite, starting a gentle upward meandering then, more of those hairpin bends. Lots of mumbling in the back seat.

Then I said "Ah hah! A waterfall ahead!"

This livened things up. I pulled off into the narrow potholed dirt track. (Now do you really get why I hire 4WDs? - not that I had the faintest idea how to even turn the feature on this time...) We pulled into a small parking area. My heart sank very low. There were two signs: 'Top of Fitzroy Falls lookout 1.5km.' And, 'Scenic Route 6.6kms return.' It was payback time.

...The journey down was spectacular. Lots of look-out points, lots of steps cut into the steep decline, safety rails... and the sound of cascading water serenading us, butterflies and that gorgeous smell of eucalypt accompanying us along with various unfamiliar bird sounds... My senses were numb to all of it. I kept looking back. I kept counting steps.

We reached the bottom fairly quickly, the boys bounding ahead, eager to see the falls in all their majesty. And see them we did, a great cascade of water, tumbling over rocks, some the size of buses. There were rock pools at the bottom too, all that force subsiding into a gentle flow, as the river meandered further along at a more sedate pace. We etched out our initials and the date on a large flat rock, joining the hundreds of others already there. Like we'd one day return to see if they were still visible?

The journey up. A hellish hour and some, of staring at the ground; for any lifting of the eyes revealed an endless amount of slippery steps. A curve once in a while breaking the monotony of left foot, right foot, left foot. Now I appreciated the odd rough cut logs resembling seats scattered every hundred metres or so. I used every single one of them.

"C'mon mum!"

"Mum!"

I never swear at my children - not directly. I did fire of a rather largish amount of expletives into the air though, at times so loud the birds took flight, my words echoing in the left-behind silence...

Of course we'd not thought to bring any water along. We had considered taking a scoop or two out of the river but there was this froth thing happening where it was still... Back at the car, we gulped. We'd stripped layers of clothing along the way and let's say three very sweaty bodies - two being those of teenage boys - the windows remained wound down from that point on, despite the many flies using us as public hop-in hop-out transport.

The boys spotted the next 'adventure'.

"Hey mum, left, quick! Illawarra Fly Treetop Walk!"  

"Really?"

"We have to!"

We had to. Ever been on one? It's where you are suspended on long and thin steel beamed walkways, across the tops of the enormous trees below. These walkways move! They rock! Nothing below you but some thin criss-crossed holey steel. Then there are the towers, a hundred metre circular climbs further above, standing on these rocking, swaying platforms. The views were great. Two sons deciding to jump as hard as they could at one end, sending me bouncing on the other end was- let's say, were it not for those other two couples approaching with small children in tow... more words would have reverberated and scared the birds below.

There was the path we'd taken to reach the starting platform and then there was another path, leading off to the bush on the way back. The second one was dark, wet and kinda spooky.

"No!"

"Yes!"

"Read the warning signs guys! Snakes, spiders and... leeches!"

"Nuh! That's just for effect," Dylan said, marching off.

It had started to rain, adding to the mud and the slipperiness of the climb. Dylan rolled his jeans up. I said nothing. I'd been to an art camp around his age, staying in a large loft. We'd gone on a half day trek along a similar trail and most of us had ended up with at least one leech somewhere on our bodies. Several girls had screamed and some had cried, seeing the black engorged things stuck to their skin.

"Don't pull them off! Don't pull them off!" I still remembered the teachers' warnings as they systematically used a lighter to dislodge them.

We made it to the car and climbed in. Non-stop now, until we reached Wollongong, as it was getting late. We hadn't booked accommodation for the night, seeing as this had been a detour, our initial intention to drive straight back to Sydney and the Backpackers Lodge, abandoned.

We'd been in the car a few minutes, when I heard, "Hey mum, there's this thin black wormy thing on my leg." This from Dylan.

"Leech. Is it moving?"

He only heard 'leech'. Pandemonium ensued.

"Leech? As in a real leech? As in it's going to suck my blood? Get it off me!"

"I'm driving! Nowhere to stop!" The road was narrow and full of bends. No way could I safely park. "Is it moving?"

"Yes!"

"It hasn't latched. Find something and pick it up then throw it out the window!"

He found something. An envelope. There was silence for a moment.

"It's on the floor now mum!" He'd flicked it off. Not out. "Do something!"

"Hon. It's not going to eat you! Deal with it!"

"No way." I turned briefly, to see both boys with legs raised on the seat, peering at the floor.

"Pick the damn thing up and throw it out!"

Between them they managed to get it to crawl back on the envelope, legs still raised. Dylan flicked the envelope out the half-wound window but not nearly hard enough, so the leech ended up stuck to the outside of the glass. Dylan quickly wound the window up and stared at it. And stared at it.

Until Marcus said "Hey, if there was one..."

Ever been in this position: Two boys in the back stripping down to their underwear, checking each other head to toe, grabbing every bit of clothing and tossing it out the window, then rummaging in the back for fresh clothes, all the while inspecting every inch of the back seat? As you're manoeuvring through sharp turns and pot holes? Yeah.

Dylan's nonchalant attitude long gone, he sat rigid and upright the rest of the way, as I finally had my revenge. I teased mercilessly. I offered up a witty remark for every step he'd made me climb and every "C'mon mum!" I'd been a victim of.

It only gets slightly worse from here. We pulled up into the first hotel in Wollongong only to be told the whole town was booked out due to a gymnastics tournament. A gymnastics tournament? The mobile phone got quite a work out as we systematically called every kind of accommodation within a ten kilometre radius.

We spent the night in a cabin... in a retirement village - the elderly female 'receptionist' taking pity on our short rendition of the day that had been. Or maybe it was the defeatism in my voice... Anyway, the boys got to soak their tired muscles in the heated pool, making friends with some of the more sprightly residents. I placed a large sign on top of my doona: "Do not disturb - at the risk of being left behind here." Then I slept.