Carla
Whistledown

The sun emerged just in time for the march. Men and women, adorned with medals that spoke of lifetimes of service, moved steadily forward. Not hurried. Not performative. Simply present.

The pipers led with quiet strength. The cliffs of our coastline stood proudly behind. And a community gathered, not just to watch… but to remember.

Children read with clarity and respect beyond their years. Wreaths were laid… and laid… and laid again, a seemingly endless display of love, gratitude, and remembrance. It was seamless. It was beautiful. It was meaningful. And it stayed with you.

Today is not only about those we have lost. It is also about those who are still with us… many of whom continue to carry burdens we may never fully understand. And if given the choice, I suspect we would all agree… we would rather have them here, demons and all, than not here at all.

From the service, we gathered at the RSL. Stories were shared. Drinks were poured. And later, at the Bowls Club, conversations unfolded in that way they only seem to on ANZAC Day.

We met Eric, a former Navy man, who has sailed around the world two and a half times. A life of stories. Of perspective. Of quiet wisdom. At one table sat an 80-year-old. At another, those of us in our 40s and 50s. And yet… age disappeared. What remained was understanding.

There was also a moment of reflection that reached far beyond Yamba. At Christmas, we stood in Belgium. Among the many cemeteries where Australians are laid to rest. Rows upon rows… reminders of just how far they travelled, and how much they gave. To hear those places spoken of again today, here, on home soil… was something I will not soon forget.

Today, I am incredibly proud. Proud of this community. Proud of those who showed up. And deeply proud of those who have served, and continue to serve. We salute you. Lest we forget.

Less than two years ago, we arrived in Yamba having never set foot here before. No grand plan. No long term vision. Just a table, a meal, and a quiet sense that we had stumbled somewhere… different.

Four days later, a house was purchased. Twenty eight days later, we had moved. Six weeks after that, our furniture finally caught up with us… slightly confused, one suspects, but willing to adjust.

And now? Now we find ourselves living in a place where dolphins make casual appearances, the ocean insists on daily admiration, and even the industrial estate hides unexpected delights.

We have lived in six countries. Countless towns. Different seasons of life. But nowhere… quite nowhere… has felt like this.

This little stretch of coastline… from Yamba to Iluka, Angourie to Wooli… it is not just beautiful. It has a way of quietly rearranging your priorities. Slowing your pace. Reminding you what matters.

So yes… this map may say "road trip." But for some of us… it became home.

Five days ago, as my partner departed for Perth, I embarked upon what can only be described as a most ambitious cleanse.

Day 1 began with a sunrise walk, though one might confess the remainder of the day was far less triumphant. Fatigue lingered, and the hours felt long.

Day 2 offered little mercy. And yet, one persisted.

No coffee. No alcohol. An unwavering commitment to water, to clean nourishment, and to walks with dear Polly that stretched further than ever before. Processed sugars were dismissed without ceremony, along with the many convenient excuses that so often accompany them.

And now… Day 5.

A second sunrise walk has been claimed. More steps taken before 7am than in the days prior. And, at Angourie, a most invigorating ocean swim, the kind that awakens not only the body, but something deeper still.

Breakfast, I might add, was a rather divine affair. A leftover vegetable stack, crowned with a perfectly poached egg. Simple. Nourishing. Quite exquisite. And all before the clock has struck 8.

But perhaps the most notable development is this… I find I rather like myself in this chapter.

The way I rise. The way I choose. The way I persist.

One suspects this may not be a fleeting phase, but the beginning of something far more enduring.

Now, in hindsight, this may have been my first mistake.

The crown, however, never arrived. Not late. Not delayed. Just, never. Even more curious, there appeared to be no evidence that I had ever actually ordered it at all. No confirmation email. No receipt. No tracking. Just a vague memory, and a growing sense that I may have imagined the entire thing.

Despite this, I spoke about this crown with great confidence to friends and family, as though its arrival was imminent and unquestionable. It became, quite unintentionally, a central part of the birthday narrative.

Enter Karen. Karen, who clearly understood the assignment. Without hesitation, she stepped in and sourced a replacement crown from the Gold Coast. Not just any crown, but a proper one. A crown with presence. A crown that said, "Yes, this is happening." And just like that, the crown arrived. The birthday was saved.

But somewhere between the missing Temu order and the triumphant arrival of the replacement tiara, something else happened. A story had formed. A small, slightly ridiculous, entirely real-life moment that somehow felt worth telling. And that, it would seem, was the beginning.

💫 Where Stories Begin

Not every story starts with intention. Some begin with a missing crown. Some with a conversation. And some, quite unexpectedly, turn into something more. What started as a simple birthday mishap has, in its own way, led here. To writing. To sharing. To observing the little things that make life interesting. And perhaps, to a few more stories along the way.

Until the next investigation… Carla Whistledown of Yamba ✍️💫

This particular Melbourne visit saw us settle into Aspire Apartments in the CBD, a practical and surprisingly well-appointed base for a working getaway. Apartment-style living, complete with washing machine and dryer, made it ideal for a few days of blending business with leisure. Parking nearby came in at $31 per day with unlimited entries (book ahead online, a detail worth noting).

Now, to the matter of food… Our first stop: Hector's Deli. At 1:30pm, the queue was already spilling out the door. We shared the roast beef and pickle toasty, with Hector's special sauce on the side, accompanied by chips. At $17, it was generous… and more than enough. The verdict? A party in your mouth, and quite clearly, everyone was invited.

Dinner that evening took us somewhere entirely different. Izakaya Domo, tucked inside Postal Lane, delivered a vibrant and authentic Japanese dining experience. A 7pm booking on a Wednesday proved wise, as the line outside told its own story. Our table of five shared widely and enthusiastically, moving through karaage chicken, mushrooms, dumplings, Japanese pancake, wagyu steak ramen, swordfish sashimi, and Japanese beer, among other delights.

And then, unexpectedly, the matcha ice cream. A dish I would typically avoid, yet this one… entirely delicious. At approximately $65 per person, it felt like exceptional value for both quality and experience.

The following day, more sandwiches were consumed (as one must in Melbourne), before dinner at Stugnizzo Ristorante. A charming and nostalgic space, lined with Italian posters and photographs of years gone by. The pizza was somewhat hit-and-miss, however the gnocchi was divine, and the steak equally satisfying. A bottle of Chianti accompanied proceedings, and we left full and content.

A late drive to St Kilda Pier was intended to include a glimpse of the famed penguins… however, gates close at 5pm, a detail we discovered slightly too late. A final massage, one last drink, and we were airport bound.

A rental car at $71 for three days, paired with the airport shuttle, made the entire trip seamless.

A city that continues to deliver on food, culture, and the simple pleasure of stepping briefly into a different rhythm. Add family to the mix, and it becomes something rather special indeed.

For those new to Melbourne, a few additional recommendations: Soi 38 (for exceptional Asian), Pepe's (for Italian), and Philippe (for a touch of French indulgence). Highly recommended.

Ingredients

2 chicken breasts · 1.2 to 1.5L chicken stock · 2 corn cobs, cut into chunks · 2 carrots, finely chopped · 1 potato, cubed · 1 zucchini, sliced · 1 handful spinach · 1 onion, diced · 2 cloves garlic, crushed · Salt and pepper · Optional: dried thyme or Italian herbs · Optional: squeeze of lemon

Method

1. Add onion and garlic to the slow cooker.

2. Place chicken breasts on top.

3. Add carrots, potato and corn.

4. Pour over stock until everything is submerged.

5. Season with salt, pepper and herbs.

6. Cook on low for 6 to 7 hours or high for 3 to 4 hours.

The Finish

In the final 30 minutes: remove and shred chicken, return to pot, add zucchini and spinach, and stir gently. Finish with a squeeze of lemon.

Notes

Cook corn on the cob for best flavour · Add more liquid if it thickens too much · Tastes even better the next day.

Best enjoyed while listening to rain and reconsidering all plans.

For as long as I can remember she has written, journals, stories, reflections, and occasionally things that made the rest of us wonder how on earth she remembered so many details.

It turns out all those years of writing have finally become something rather special.

Her book Madness, Monkeys & Miracles officially launched on March 25. It's a story of travel, life's unexpected twists, courage, humour and the kind of resilience that only comes from actually living a very full life.

Some of the adventures in this family clearly run in the blood.

If you'd like to follow along with her journey, or grab a copy, you can find it on Amazon.

I have a feeling this may be just the beginning of another rather wonderful adventure.