Windang Beach Tourist Park: Bugger Off Until Noon

According to the brochure, Windang Beach Tourist Park promises a relaxing coastal getaway. Our first experience involved a receptionist with the personality of a mullet, a rigid midday check-in policy and sixty minutes parked on a suburban street.

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Key Points — Windang Beach Tourist Park Review

• Strict midday check-in: No flexibility offered for our early arrival, leaving us waiting outside the park.
• Limited waterfront sites: Smaller caravans are better suited to the waterfront positions, with challenging access for larger tandem-axle vans.
• Disappointing amenities: The communal shower facilities were visibly dirty during our early afternoon inspection.
• Well-equipped camp kitchen: A surprisingly clean, spacious facility with modern cooking equipment.
• Children’s playground: A tidy, nautical-themed play area suitable for younger children.
• Waterfront noise: Passing traffic and evening gatherings at nearby public barbecue facilities disrupted the peaceful coastal atmosphere.
• Our verdict: We cut our stay short and relocated to NRMA Shellharbour Beachside Holiday Park, just 13 minutes away.

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Well, that wasn’t much of a welcome.

After pottering along the NSW South Coast towing our tandem-axle caravan, we arrived looking forward to the usual simple pleasures. Unhitch, settle in, put the kettle on and enjoy another stretch of coastline.

Instead, we met a receptionist whom my wife, with characteristic restraint, described as having “the personality of a mullet.”

And not the fashionable haircut either. The fish.

There was no cheerful hello, no “Welcome to Windang,” and no thanks for supporting the local economy. Just an abrupt “What’s your rego?” followed by the announcement that we would have to wait until midday.

Apparently, hospitality is an optional extra.

I’m not expecting a brass band, a red carpet or complimentary French champagne. A friendly greeting wouldn’t go astray, particularly when you’re running a business that depends on people enjoying themselves.

Instead, we discovered that Windang Beach Tourist Park operates one of Australia’s most sacred administrative rituals: the Midday Check-In.

Not 11.30. Not 11.45. And certainly not 11.59.

Twelve noon.

Until the clock strikes twelve, some invisible force field apparently prevents paying guests from entering the park.

So, with sixty minutes to spare, we found ourselves parked on a suburban street outside the entrance. There we sat, contemplating the finer points of bureaucratic stupidity.

Welcome to Windang. Now bugger off until lunchtime.

Fifteen Minutes to Wait an Hour

Just when I thought Windang Beach Tourist Park’s rigid midday check-in policy couldn’t get any more ridiculous, I discovered another little masterpiece of bureaucratic stupidity.

Directly above the cheerful blue sign instructing visitors to ‘Park here for check-ins’ sits another sign. This one allows a grand total of fifteen minutes’ parking to the left. To the right, you’re not even permitted to stop.

Fifteen minutes!

And this wasn’t some isolated incident involving one disgruntled caravan owner. We certainly weren’t the only travellers enjoying Windang’s unique interpretation of hospitality.

Other caravans and motorhomes were lined up along the roadside, their occupants waiting for the same magical stroke of midday. As the accompanying photographs demonstrate, this wasn’t simply our problem. Other visitors were finding themselves in much the same predicament.

What makes the arrangement particularly ridiculous is that this situation is entirely predictable. If you insist that every arriving guest waits until midday, surely someone should give a little thought to where they’re supposed to wait.

Instead, Windang Beach Tourist Park appears to have perfected the art of creating a traffic management problem out of something as uncomplicated as checking into a caravan park.

Apparently, you’re expected to wait for an hour or more in a parking space that allows just fifteen minutes.

Perhaps the management expects everyone to drive around the block six times. Although, given the size of some caravans and motorhomes, finding somewhere to turn around could require a reconnaissance mission and assistance from the Australian Army.

It’s a brilliant system, provided nobody actually arrives before midday.

Whatever Happened to the 10 Out, 11 In Rule?

After years of towing a caravan around Australia, we’ve become accustomed to a fairly straightforward arrangement at many parks.

Out by 10 am, in by 11 am.

It’s a simple system that, in our experience, has worked remarkably well. Windang, however, has decided that two full hours are required between departure and arrival.

I appreciate that sites need inspecting, cleaning and occasionally rehabilitating. Particularly after someone’s attempt to recreate the Battle of the Somme with tent pegs and a shovel.

But two hours to prepare a patch of grass?

One can only assume each blade receives an individual manicure and a soothing aromatherapy treatment before the next caravan is permitted to park.

Of course, we’re not suggesting every site should be available the moment the previous guest departs. A little flexibility, though, wouldn’t bring the entire operation crashing down.

Interestingly, the park’s published booking conditions allow for early check-in, subject to availability and additional fees. So, the sacred midday rule does have exceptions. They just didn’t appear to be on offer during our visit. Which was disappointing, as we’d hoped to catch the Shellharbour SUP Festival events at nearby Warilla Beach.

But never mind. Maybe next year.

Hospitality — An Endangered Species?

Tourism operators spend fortunes convincing Australians to explore regional communities. They promise relaxation, adventure and unforgettable experiences.

Windang Beach Tourist Park certainly delivered an unforgettable experience. Unfortunately, it began on the street outside.

Every traveller contributes to the local economy. We buy fuel, groceries, meals, coffee and occasionally something entirely unnecessary from the local hardware shop. A friendly welcome costs absolutely nothing. Even a simple greeting would have made an enormous difference.

“Welcome to Windang. Unfortunately, we can’t check you in until midday, but here’s somewhere suitable to park.”

Instead, our first impression was about as warm and welcoming as a parking infringement notice.

It’s a fascinating business philosophy. Spend thousands attracting visitors, then greet them with all the enthusiasm of a bored customs officer inspecting second-hand underpants. Staff are entitled to difficult days. We all have them.

But first impressions count. And when you’re working in hospitality, being hospitable is generally considered a useful qualification.

The Village of the Permanently Parked

Eventually, we were let in, but not a moment before midday.

Venturing further into Windang Beach Tourist Park, one quickly discovers that the word tourist is being used rather generously.

The place has an extraordinary collection of permanent caravans, cabins and assorted dwellings. Some appear to have taken root during the Whitlam administration and steadfastly refused to move ever since.

Several of these magnificent relics look as though they were originally towed into position behind a Holden Kingswood. Back when petrol cost less than a newspaper and family holidays involved six children, a Labrador and an Esky full of Devon sandwiches.

Over the intervening decades, they’ve sprouted annexes, verandahs, television aerials and various architectural extensions.

Some would leave a council building inspector reaching instinctively for his blood-pressure medication. Several have so thoroughly surrendered their mobile credentials that towing them anywhere would probably require an excavator and a demolition permit.

Still, there’s something admirable about their determination to remain exactly where they are.

The caravans may have arrived on wheels, but judging by their appearance, the next time most move will be when someone sells the land.

The Curtain-Twitching Committee

Then there are the permanent residents.

As you manoeuvre your well-travelled modern caravan through the narrow internal roads, you cannot help imagining dozens of eyes watching your progress.

Discreetly, of course, from behind lace curtains.

You get the distinct impression your arrival is being greeted with roughly the same enthusiasm as a fox entering a chicken coop.

A curtain moves. A shadow shifts. Somewhere behind a flyscreen, an unofficial neighbourhood surveillance committee is presumably taking notes.

“Who’s this then? Another bloody tourist. Look at the size of that caravan. He’ll never get that thing around the corner. And I hope he’s not planning to park near Mavis.”

Of course, nobody actually says any of this. They don’t need to.

After decades of apparently uninterrupted occupation, one suspects the residents have developed an almost telepathic system for identifying outsiders.

You get the distinct impression that you’re not checking into a tourist park at all. You’re trespassing through somebody else’s retirement village.

Waterfront Views — Terms and Conditions Apply

The park does have a limited number of rather appealing waterfront caravan sites.

Unfortunately, these appear best suited to smaller, single-axle caravans rather than the substantial tandem-axle touring rigs now commonplace on Australian roads.

Adding to the challenge is the delightful prospect of reversing your caravan onto these sites from the blind side.

For those unfamiliar with this particular form of recreational torture, blind-side reversing involves manoeuvring several tonnes of caravan backwards. All while enjoying approximately the same rearward visibility as a submarine captain looking through a letterbox. It’s a procedure requiring considerable concentration, several minor corrections and the occasional exchange of marital pleasantries through gritted teeth.

Nevertheless, we managed to squeeze our 19’6″ tandem-axle caravan into position.

And we did it without demolishing anything, divorcing one another or requiring assistance from the State Emergency Service.

A triumph, I thought.

Unfortunately, nobody had warned us about the soundtrack.

The Waterfront Soundtrack — No Extra Charge

Despite its attractive waterfront location, the park enjoys a seemingly endless procession of vehicles travelling along the road immediately outside.

Quite where they’re all going remains a mystery, because the road is a dead end. Presumably, they’re checking whether somebody has finally built an extension.

Then, just as dusk descends, the nearby public barbecue facilities spring into life. Large family gatherings arrive, the music starts and the festivities continue well into the evening.

Now, don’t misunderstand me. I enjoy a decent party as much as the next bloke. Crank up Jimmy Barnes, The Wolfe Brothers or some Creedence Clearwater Revival, and I’ll happily stay until somebody calls last drinks. But when the evening soundtrack takes on a distinctly Sounds of Istanbul flavour, delivered at considerable volume, things become rather interesting.

You begin wondering whether Google Maps has made a catastrophic navigational error and deposited you somewhere considerably further from Wollongong.

It’s not so much the choice of music that bothers me. Everyone has their favourites. It’s the realisation that your peaceful waterfront campsite has somehow become the unofficial overflow area for a suburban street party.

Having negotiated the blind-side reversing challenge to secure our little piece of waterfront paradise, I began contemplating the unthinkable. Perhaps we’d have been better off deep inside the park, behind several rows of permanent residents and their ancient caravans.

At least there, the only disturbance might be the occasional twitch of a curtain as Mavis checked whether we’d put the rubbish out correctly.

The Amenities — A Tale of Two Standards

Having survived the reception committee and negotiated the village of permanently parked caravans, I decided to investigate the amenities.

After all, the quality of a caravan park’s bathrooms can tell you rather a lot about the establishment. Unfortunately, at 1.30 pm, the men’s shower facilities looked as though they’d recently hosted the annual mud-wrestling championships.

Kerri reported that the ladies’ amenities were much the same.

The floors displayed dirty footprints, muddy marks and assorted grime. It was enough to make you wonder whether a mop had visited recently. It was the sort of scene that makes you instinctively look down at your footwear. Perhaps gumboots would have been a more sensible choice than thongs.

I appreciate that communal bathrooms receive considerable foot traffic. Keeping them spotless is an ongoing battle. But by early afternoon, you’d reasonably expect the facilities to have received some attention. Instead, the morning’s collection of dirt appeared to have been carefully preserved for future generations.

What made the situation particularly curious was the nearby camp kitchen.

Here was an altogether different proposition.

Surprisingly clean, spacious and well appointed, it featured stainless-steel cooking facilities, rangehoods, microwaves and a substantial refrigerator.

There was even plenty of room to prepare a meal without becoming intimately acquainted with your neighbour’s sausages. It was almost as though two entirely different management philosophies operated within the same caravan park.

One building appeared to be preparing for a MasterChef audition. The other looked as though it had just hosted a particularly unsuccessful episode of Survivor. Perhaps the kitchen had received all the cleaning attention that morning, while the showers were still patiently awaiting their turn.

Whatever the explanation, the contrast was extraordinary.

I couldn’t help thinking that next time I visited the shower block, I might borrow some disposable gloves from the kitchen first.

Somewhere for the Little Monsters

To its credit, Windang Beach Tourist Park provides a rather pleasant playground for younger members of the travelling fraternity. Complete with slides, climbing equipment and a nautical-themed play structure, it’s a tidy, well-presented area with soft-fall surfaces and artificial grass.

Just the place for kids to burn off excess energy while Mum and Dad enjoy a few precious moments of relative peace. Judging by the equipment, it’s clearly intended for younger children. Teenagers, of course, have generally progressed to skateboards, mobile phones and communicating exclusively through grunts.

Nevertheless, it’s a welcome addition to the park and one of the facilities that appears to have received genuine attention.

The Final Verdict — Paradise, just 13 Minutes Away

One of our more curious discoveries was the apparent shortage of cafés, restaurants and that essential Australian institution, a decent pub. At least, within a comfortable stroll of the caravan park.

I’m not suggesting every holiday park should have a Michelin-starred restaurant at its front gate. But somewhere to enjoy a decent barista-made coffee without organising a motor-vehicle expedition would be rather nice.

Fortunately, we discovered that the charming coastal village of Shellharbour was only a short drive away.

And what a revelation that turned out to be.

There were cafés, restaurants, a pub and even a swimming pool. All the little conveniences that transform a caravan holiday from an exercise in endurance into something resembling an actual holiday. But the greatest discovery was NRMA Shellharbour Beachside Holiday Park.

There it was, conveniently located alongside these wonderful establishments, just thirteen minutes down the road from Windang.

Naturally, we stopped for a lovely barista-made coffee.

We contemplated the extraordinary difference a few kilometres can make to one’s outlook on life. Then we did what any sensible traveller would do.

We booked ourselves a site.

We returned to Windang and packed up with the sort of enthusiasm normally reserved for escaping a burning building. Then we headed straight back to Shellharbour.

And so ended our stay at Windang Beach Tourist Park.

It’s rather ironic, really.

The park was exceptionally particular about what time we could arrive. As it turned out, we were considerably more enthusiastic about the time we could leave.

We departed with one firm resolution.

Never again.

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