Home Is Where The Harbour Is Trivia Quiz

Answer: New South Wales

Some would say our town is in the state of disarray what with all the road works going on all the time, but Coffs, as it is commonly referred to by its residents, is located 240 miles south of Queensland's capital city, Brisbane, and 340 miles north of Sydney, the capital city of New South Wales. Established in the 1860s, its ideal placement midway between these two large capitals makes it today a greatly sought after destination for holiday makers and retirees alike, with the nation's Commonwealth Scientific and Industrial Research Organisation describing it as having "the most liveable climate in Australia".

Answer: Timber getting

In fact those early timber getters almost stripped the whole region bare in its early days, particularly savaging the vast numbers of cedar trees that once grew profusely here. At one particular stage, they were harvesting two million feet of cedar every year. That's disgraceful.

As the trees disappeared - and absolutely disappear they did - other industries crept in to take their place. These included fishing, farming, dairy and beef cattle raising, and tourism. Because Coffs is built at the bottom of several gently sloping hills, this terrain was, and is, also ideal for the fruit growing industry. For years, on the approach to the city on all sides, the most striking feature of its terrain, as far as one could see, were those hills of fruit. Today many of these early industries and farms are gradually being replaced by new housing estates and various rather ugly, garishly painted commercial developments.

Indeed, we're inclined to think here that most developers apparently suffer from collective colour blindness.

Answer: A giant banana

Australia features over 150 towns with large structures such as these. There's a giant sheep, or a huge pineapple, or a peanut that looks a little like an enormous doggy's mishap, or a well endowed bull, and so on. There is even, undoubtedly giving nightmares to many children, a hideous giant prawn.

This is a trend that began in the country in 1963, and the fad took off rapidly from there. All these structures are designed to lure tourists into the nearby gift shops of course, but some of them are truly hideous.

The structures that is, not the tourists. The particular monstrosity adorning the outskirts of the Coffs Harbour township is a whopping big yellow banana.

Answer: The Great Dividing Range

The Great Dividing Range, also known as the Eastern Highlands, is the third longest range of mountains in the world. It stretches over a vast distance of 2,175 miles from the tip of Australia's north east right down to the southern end of the country. The only place where it practically dabbles its foothills in the Pacific Ocean though is at Coffs Harbour. Our lofty claim to fame.

Answer: From a ship wrecked off its shores

Sawtell was established, not from anything as sorrowful as a leper colony, or as exciting as a discovery of gold, but from a ship, carrying a massive load of cedar trees ripped from the area, being run aground on the nearby beach. That beach is quite lovely, by the way, with the bluest waters you could ever hope to see.

When the owner of the wreck decided to salvage his valuable cargo, a small settlement eventually sprang up from the camping site where the salvage workers had lived during their long recovery task. Sawtell, now a quiet little isolated part of greater Coffs, with a population of only 3,000 recorded in the 2006 census, is like a sparkling jewel shining in the lovely blue crown of the Pacific. Oh, and gold was indeed discovered in the Coffs harbour region.

There is still an old mine just outside of town, where tourists, eyes gleaming excitedly and with mini picks held high, are allowed to enter to see if they can find any undiscovered nuggets. There's slim chance of that happening though.

It's as dry as a bone.

Answer: There were no roads or rail service into the area

Amazingly so, this is the case. The jetty was built in the early days of the town's settlement before any roads or rail services were constructed to service the area. Its prime purpose was to provide anchorage and a loading site for the timber ships hauling away all the beautiful cedar trees hewn down in the areas around Coffs. The trees were hauled into the settlement's early timber mills by long trains of bullock teams. From there, the resultant logs were loaded onto small trams and carted down to the jetty and the waiting ships. That old jetty lasted almost 120 years, before being replaced by a newer and considerably shorter one in the late 20th century. Today, Coffs has yachts, tourist boats and trawlers using its lovely harbour on a regular basis, but these now have their own berthing sites. The jetty instead is a mecca for tourists, sightseers, shoppers and diners in the many shops and restaurants that abound in that area.

The jetty is also home to a quaint little sport known as jetty jumping, where foolhardy residents hurl themselves into the drink, rather far below, to see who makes the biggest splash. This began shortly after the new jetty was constructed. Then along came council inspectors with all the solemnity of an Episcopalian procession, to announce this sport was to be banned. With due ceremony they nailed the obligatory notices denoting same on several posts. Two days later, when this was revealed in the local newspaper, a short trip into the jetty revealed that it was absolutely packed with twice as many jumpers as normal, all enthusiastically plunging to their doom below, and with the council notices ripped off their sentinel posts. We blame this on their convict blood of course. They were always a rebellious lot, and, with ropes tied around their poor scrawny necks, also somewhat prone to jumping off government controlled platforms.

Answer: The crown surveyor made a mistake in the spelling

Coff's Harbour was originally named by one John Korff back in 1847 when he was forced to sail into its calm waters during a storm out at sea. Mr Korff was so impressed with the area that he reserved land there under his name, and so it became known during its early history.

However, when the apparently myopic surveyor of the crown was filling out the official records for same in 1861, he completely misspelled the name. This was either a result of poor handwriting on the original documents, or his eyesight. One suspects the latter, as he made several errors of a similar nature in this area. To this very day we really don't know whether we're Arthur or Martha.

Answer: To become the capital of Australia

As a result of the constant squabbling between the two state capital cities of Sydney and Melbourne, it took the Australian government several years to decide on the future site for a national capital city for this country. This is not unusual if you know little about our beautiful country. It usually takes government members that length of time to decide whether or not to sneeze - and then they tax us for the tissues.

In the lead up to the eventual choice of Canberra, the lovely village of Dorrigo, to the west of Coffs, was on the short list. This exquisite place is set amongst rolling green hills stretching far away into the distance, dainty farmhouses here and there, comfortable old cows ambling along on their endless cycle of munch and milk, rich red soils, rainforests, exquisite views, and tiny waterfalls cascading down the sides of the ranges. In 2014, Dorrigo, with its population of just over 1,000, looks exactly the same as it did way back when the current site of Canberra, in the middle of nowhere, was finally chosen. One thanks heaven every single day that this lovely little village escaped that dreadful fate.

Answer: A two tailed lizard

The two tailed lizard, which was once very common in this small farming community to the north west of Coffs Harbour, is also known as the two headed lizard. It is called either of these names because its tail is so thick and stumpy that it looks exactly like another head - or its head looks like another tail. Either end pointing in my direction gives me the creeps quite frankly. Apart from its fame of being named after a creepy-crawly, Nana Glen, with its population of 1,046 in 2006, and once a thriving timber getting area, is now a small appealing settlement surrounded by beef and dairy farms.

It also boasts a new winery or two in the area, which could, quite possibly, explain any recent sightings of those elusive two tailed lizards.

Answer: Old railway carriages

Glenreagh is so small that it can be driven through in the blink of an eye, but it does boast a wonderful little establishment known as The Golden Dog Hotel. This is filled, not only with thirsty residents, but also with old pieces of farm machinery and equipment going back many years. These hang on the walls and roof of the bar, above the heads of the foolhardy drinkers, and no doubt will one day fall and decapitate one or two of them. Hidden behind the village of Glenreagh, however, lies a deserted stock yard. Scattered about this yard are the bodies of numerous old railway carriages that were once part of a flourishing rail service that ran in the area between 1922 and 1974. When government cutbacks forced the closure of the line, all were transported there and left to slowly fall to pieces.

In more recent times, however, a dedicated group of volunteers have been working hard to set up a railway museum, and to re-open a thirty-five kilometre section of the track between Glenreagh and Ulong, a tiny village high up in the mountains. This historical drawcard was anticipated to be a real winner for that entire area, not only providing employment for both villages, but also allowing tourists a wonderful trip through some of the loveliest scenery to be found anywhere. Alas, then huffing and puffing into the station came government officials, carrying volumes of regulations and bureaucratic restrictions to be met or overcome. The work ground to a halt, and more dust still settles on those old and lonely carriages once again.