Fluffy white clouds dot the otherwise hurtful blue sky and the last of this season's cicadas are competing with the roar of the yowie mobile's motor. However, unlike the hectic Kings Highway, which, when we happily exited it at Braidwood, was backed-up for miles with cars sporting numberplates beginning with 'Y', on this country road there's not another car within cooee.

Although the Kings Highway is the most direct and therefore the most travelled, there are other routes to take to the south coast which are starting to gain popularity with Canberra holiday-goers. One is the Nerriga Road (now mostly sealed) which leads you through the wilds of Morton National Park and spits you out two hours later near Nowra, but today I'm testing the historic route through the historic Araluen Valley to Moruya.

Out of the blue, another car zooms along in the opposite direction. Cough, cough! Splutter! Copping the occasional gob full of dust is one of the few drawbacks of negotiating this road (with roof down anyway), but wiping a layer of dust from the eyes is pretty tame when compared to the perils that travellers faced soon after this track was first hacked out with pick and shovel in the mid-1800s. Back then, folk had to contend with flooded creeks, ruts deeper than my tyres (really!) and, most alarmingly, the threat of marauding bushrangers lurking around every corner.

Now Araluen is not a ghost town in the true sense of the word, although the spirits of many who died here during the hardships of the gold rush and bushranging era live on. At one stage there were 25 licensed hotels and probably a similar number of sly grog shops. It's hard to imagine, for today, as we pull up in town, there's only one solitary waterhole operating, the Araluen Hotel. This is one of those typical country pubs with fair dinkum character, where a couple of barflies hold up one end of the bar (a schooner in each hand), a jukebox blares classic rock from the '70s, and - most importantly - where the drinks are cold.

This column's regular correspondent Don Burns, of Tuross, coaxed me to travel the Araluen Road, describing it as "probably one of the most heavily-trodden tracks in the colony of New South Wales around the 1860s, when thousands of dreamers and schemers from around the globe voyaged across raging seas in leaky boats, disembarked in Moruya and followed the trail beside Deua River towards their fortunes in Araluen's goldfields." Don also tells colourful tales of showgirls and imported German bands which publicans used to entice the throngs of gold seekers to their pubs.

Today, while there are no lederhosen-wearing lyricists within sight and there are definitely no dancing girls to keep us entertained, the hearty pub grub on offer sure beats the traditional pie and milkshake stop at Braidwood.

Just out of "town", the road turns to dirt and the real journey down to Moruya begins. Haphazard slices of freehold reach from the road to the Deua River. One padlocked driveway is marked with skull and crossbones, while another has the Eureka flag fluttering alongside the Australian flag. Guessing in what guise the next letterbox will appear as is almost as unpredictable as the direction the river takes. There are old fridges and antique milk churns with Ned Kelly-style slits crudely carved in them. There's a real sense that this is still frontier country.

We've further slowed down the trip to our summer sojourn by booking into Bakers Flat, a bush hideaway about 20 kilometres out of Araluen. What's the rush, we are on holidays after all. Regular readers will be aware of my obsession for bunking down in log cabins (Blue Hills dreaming, December 13) and although this is a modern cottage crafted out of rough-sawn timber and mud bricks and topped with a tin roof, it still exudes that sense a romanticism.

It's also perfectly situated above the river flats but close enough to hear the Deua gurgle on its own adventurous journey to the coast. There's no television (that's reason alone you'd come here) but there is a portable solar radio if you want to keep up to date with important events in the outside world (like the cricket score!).

I go to bed imagining the parade of charlatans and desperados who passed here during the gold rush who'd have sold their soul (and probably more) for a night in such relative luxury. Sadly, there are still no dancing girls. In fact, the only nightlife here are the possums running across the roof, oh, and the occasional owl hooting from a nearby roost.

I'm not sure if it's the comfy bed or those extra two nightcaps we downed around the campfire while trying to count the stars last night, but we sleep in and don't even hear the cacophony of bird calls which resonate in the forests of the Deua every dawn.

The river is tailor-made for a refreshing morning dip and unlike the waterways around Canberra (and most of Australia for that matter) the water here is crystal clear; you can even make out all sorts of patterns among the coloured sands and pebbles on the river bed. It's also a top spot for skimming stones. However, a word of warning, it was only a stone's throw from here that ANU photographer John Reid once captured several images of the "fishman" - a humanoid-type creature purportedly wallowing among the reflections of the Deua River (Into the realm of the fishman, February 7, 2014)

However, with the sun now high in the sky; the coast beckons. The Araluen Road is just as quiet as yesterday and between the occasional car chugging up the mountain towards a presumably near-empty Canberra, the only other traffic are groups of mountainbike riders hurtling downhill. I wonder if they have lifts waiting for them at the bottom or if they plan to slog it back up the hill the next day.

Around the next hairpin bend is the site of the old Jubilee Inn, unfortunately now just a pile of rocks sitting forlornly in a paddock. From here, the road continues to follow the twisting course alongside the Deua, until finally, the Kiora Bridge signals the outskirts of Moruya. It's near here that the river turns from freshwater to tidal and changes its name to the Moruya River.

Still on the fringes of town, hidden among suburbia, is a quaint cream and red coloured weatherboard cottage - the Gundary store, run by purveyors of organic food Trevor and Fiona Gill. Inside the shelves are stocked with jars of sweets, there's a bike hanging from the roof (maybe someone couldn't face the ride back up the hill after all) and dozens of lettuces grow on the wall next to the drink fridge. We pull up a pew on the knock-out veranda and tuck into a Deua Burger consisting of lentils, salad and sprouts (most plucked from the cafe's own garden). Carnivores don't fear, there are also plenty of meat choices (organic of course) here too.

We delay our drive into town and the inevitable hustle and bustle of the coast at this time of year by flicking through a copy of Moruya - the First 150 Years (Moruya Historical Society, 1983). Apparently the 1860 flood that devastated Araluen was so destructive it washed away many buildings including "a hotel and all its occupants," some of whom were found dead "afterwards on the beach at Moruya". That's some flood.

Out the back of the Gundary store (yes, even more delaying), surrounded by more rows of hydroponic lettuce, we notice a very large catamaran in dry dock. I look skyward at the gathering storm clouds atop the ranges and begin to wonder if Trevor is expecting another downpour like that of 1860, but instead he reveals the 40-foot-long cruising catamaran, which has "taken five years and a lot of blood and sweat" to build, is for a mid-life sabbatical to sail around the world with Fiona.

With full tummies full, we take a deep breath as we approach the junction with the busy Princes Highway. A long line of traffic snakes through town. It's back to the hard reality of peak season on the coast. But for the burning desire for some saltwater therapy, we'd instantly do a U-turn and return to the tranquillity of Bakers Flat.

Araluen Road: Araluen is 26 kilometres from Braidwood. At Araluen the road is predominantly dirt and gravel for the final 60 kilometres (allow up to 90-minutes) to Moruya, but is suitable for 2WD unless during or immediately after extreme weather events.

Bakers Flat Cottages: 3539 Araluen Road, Deua River Valley. Comfortably sleeps two. $100 a double per night. Extras $25 a person per night. Bookings essential: bakersflatcottages.com.au Ph: 0419 246 876.

Gundary Store: Specialising in organic and fair-trade coffees, teas and chocolate. 13 Campbell St, Moruya. Ph: 02 4474 3275.

Cryptic clue: Not far from a "Jolie" bridge.

Degree of difficulty: Medium

Last week: Congratulations to Shirley Fitzsimmons, of Banks, who correctly identified last week's photo (inset) as the "shoe tree" on Hector McWilliam Drive, just after the turn off from the Princes Highway to Tuross Heads. Have you nailed a shoe or thong to this south coast landmark? I'd love to know.

How to enter: Email your guess along with your name and address to timtheyowieman@bigpond.com. The first email sent after 10am today with the correct answer wins a double pass to Dendy cinemas.