It was with a heavy heart that we left Tamworth this morning, being that we have enjoyed ourselves so much. There is plenty more to see in this wide brown land of ours however, so it was of no use dwelling on it. In an effort to see all that we can, it was an early start for us, hitching the van up and driving out the gates by 8:15, another 15 minutes behind schedule. The early start was necessitated by the big day of driving we have ahead of us.

Our aim is to reach a small camp ground just north of Byron Bay. On paper, 500km doesn’t sound too bad, but in reality, I’m expecting a 7 or 8 hour day on the road.

Waving goodbye to Tamworth, we headed in the direction of Glen Innes. Our first stop however was only an hour or so down the road for the requisite toilet break. I really ought to remember to go before I leave.

By 11:00AM we were in Glen Innes, where we stopped at the information center to collect more brochures on our upcoming breaks. In particular, I wanted to find out what the recommended route was, across to the coast. There seemed to be 2 choices. Either via Grafton, or via Tenterfield, although both required passage over the Great Dividing Range. The consensus was that the route through Tenterfield was the favoured course of the locals, so we decided that if it was good enough for them, then it would do for us also.

Whilst in Glen Innes, we also decided to have an early lunch. Not used to being up so early, our bellies were already protesting the lack of sustenance. It felt a lot later than 11:00AM already, which didn’t bode well for the remainder of the day.

From Glen Innes, we got back on track, with the plan of pretty much driving right on through until we got to our camping area. According to Shazza the GPS, it shouldn’t take more than a few hours. She had us arriving at about 3:00PM with a cold beer in hand by 5 past.

She unfortunately doesn’t come this way often, because while the road to Tenterfield was pretty good, as we wound our way up the ranges out of there, they got worse and worse.

Some of the views were spectacular. Pity about some of the roads.

Not only did the roads seem to consist more of pot hole, than actual road, but the twists and turns were obviously designed with a much more nimble vehicle in mind than ‘The Beast’ and our nearly 3 ton van. With switchbacks, hair pin bends and other tight curves to be carefully negotiated, it may have made for great fun on a motorbike. It was just plain tiring for us though. For about 120km, I had to wrestle with the wheel, all the while making sure to keep our speed up, whilst going uphill, only to have to bleed it all off again each time we came to a bend. With the narrowness of the roads, it was even an effort at times just to make sure the van was not encroaching on the oncoming lanes, or about to fall off of the road on the other side. It was a tough gig, but we came through the other side unscathed, or so we thought. I was exhausted, and my shoulders were aching from having to continually man handle the steering wheel. Bec’s back and neck were a bit sore from the constant jarring of the pot holes, while the dogs seemed to be just plain over the whole idea of getting tossed around the back seat like corks in the ocean. So rather than drive non-stop, we took a breather at a small rest area, where we could stretch our legs, go to the bathroom and refresh the batteries a little before embarking on the final leg of todays journey. We still had another 130 something kilometres to travel and by the time we left the rest stop, it was already getting on to 2:30PM. So much for getting into camp at 3:00PM. At least the roads straightened out a little, even if they were still appallingly rough, right up until we got close to the coast. We joined up with a main freeway there, and then it was smooth sailing for the final 10 or 20km.

The views as we came down toward the coast, almost made up for the horrendous trip we’d had though, as the ribbon of black top snaked down the valley, lush green hills rolled upwards on either side of us, and the deep blue of the ocean was stretching out in front of us to the horizon. Absolutely stupendous.

As it turned out, it was 3:55PM by the time we pulled into the rest area where we are spending the night. Much unlike the lush free camping spot we stayed at in Wallabadah, this is an expanse of concrete, with a freeway on each side and the clamor to match. There were already a couple of vans here when we arrived and a driver reviver kiosk, so we are confident it should be okay. On the plus side, with any luck I can get a cheap coffee to get me going in the morning if the kiosk is open.

Once we parked, we threw open the door of the van, only to have another of those ‘Oh, f… gosh’ moments. The floor was littered with the contents of our cutlery draw, which was now also on the floor. It must have rattled open during the drive through the hills. As Bec cleaned that up, I went to check out the exterior of the van, finding that we must also have left our mud flaps behind somewhere. Both have been torn clean off. My only consolation is, that if it wasn’t for the lack of time before we left, I had intended to replace them with expensive R.M Williams ones. I’m glad I didn’t waste my money. Apart from that, we’re looking all good.

As I was unpacking ‘The Beast’, an old guy in a 1928 Plymouth rolled up. He was as much in awe of ‘The Beast’ as I was of his old rattler. As it transpires, he is writing a book on the Jeep/Chrysler history in Australia, and wanted some information about our rig. Naturally, I was happy to oblige, and before I knew it, I’d spent the better part of an hour chatting to him and a few others that we doing the rounds of the camping area. Meanwhile, Bec was inside having an afternoon nap, no doubt wondering where I was.

Now, as I write this, I am sitting in the dark, the sun having set, thinking that it might well be time to get dinner on, before setting up the generator. I’ve been told by Bec that my life won’t be worth living if I’m going to drag her 500Km across the countryside in a day, to a nasty, noisy free rest area, only for her to miss the final of ‘My Kitchen Rules’ on the tele, when there are perfectly good caravan parks only a matter of minutes away.

As it turned out, after firing the gennie up, and carefully aligning the TV antenna, then tuning the TV, we were successful in getting 23 different TV stations tuned in! We had every channel you could imagine, except of course good old channel 7 and ‘My Kitchen Rules’. Therefore, it was off with the TV and the generator, for a quiet night of reading and planning. I even got Bec involved in the planning, although she wasn’t too happy about it. A wing and a prayer is more her style of course.

Bec hits the books.

Until next time, stay safe, have fun and don’t forget to write.