We had planned to be on the road again today, bound for new horizons, exploring new lands and all that rigmarole. After a few days on the road though, and yesterdays 300Km round trip which required a hefty dose of concentration while the leather of the steering wheel slid all to easily to and fro through my sweat slick palms as I wrangled ‘The Beast’ across the corrugated iron like dirt of the Tanami Road, we decided a bit of a rest would be in order instead. So, rather than making tracks and putting Halls Creek in the rear view mirror, we headed for the office and handed over the cash to secure our site for an extra night. We are after all, on holiday.

Thus, our day was a mixture of relaxing and the necessary evils of housework, the likes of which we have been relegating to the back burner for some time. To start the day, while Bec continued to sleep, I brought our photos up to date on Flickr, so it’s worthwhile having a look at them if you want to put some pictures to my words.

That done, and Bec slowly emerging from bed, we delighted in our weekend staple of bacon and eggs for brunch. Now, I can’t say I’m sure if there is a health benefit of eating white mould over green, but given that the little shop here at the caravan park doesn’t seem to stock bread, frozen or otherwise, we talked ourselves into the illusion that the white furry bits on our toast had something to do with the fluffiness of the dough. A task that would have been all the more difficult had of the bread been contaminated with mould of the green variety.

Even the dogs were happy for a quiet day.

The remainder of the day was spent either prostrate in bed watching the tele, putting some time in planning our next few destination or playing the good washer woman, as load after load of laundry was feed through the washing machine. It’s been a while since I’ve regaled you with tales of Becs washing prowess, so I feel safe in mentioning that the machine was running on an almost continuous cycle today, to work through the many loads that needed to be washed. The heat was such outdoors that no sooner had a load finished, the previous load was dry and ready to be brought back inside. That sure made things a little easier.

As the afternoon wore on, we buckled the dogs up for a quick walk around the park. We were surprised to see that the park is pretty much full, with vans parked at odd angles all about the place. It was a distinct contrast to what it looked like when we first drove through the gates the other morning to be confronted with an almost empty paddock of dust. Imagining that the majority of the vans propped here will also at some point in the very near future, be heading west as we are, I was glad that we had made some phone calls earlier and booked in at the next two parks we are wanting to stay at. That means that we are at least set for accommodation for almost the next two weeks.

With the dogs exercised and worn out to some extent, it was time for Bec and I to head out for a night on the town. Bec had overheard something the other day, about the restaurant at the hotel across the road from our caravan park being quite agreeable, and since we hadn’t anything to cook in the van, we decided that it might be nice to have a night out.

Imagine my utmost dismay as we entered the rather fancy establishment, only to see that the dining room was bustling to the point of being full. An enquiry of the waitress provided the crushing blow, as she gently replied that the dining room was actually closed for a private function. My thoughts of a hearty cooked dinner it seemed were dashed, until the waitress advised us that the sports bar had been set up to accept diners this evening instead, as she led us down the corridor.

This was entirely a fortunate turn of events, as we able to sit outdoors, under the verandah where it was so much cooler than the stuffy dining room had been. Sitting here, where a dozen TV screens over the long timber bar, were showing a game of football, it was so far removed from what we had come to expect of Halls Creek, that it was difficult to imagine that we were still in the same town. By goodness, there was even alcohol of varying strengths available.

My only criticism, if I could be so churlish as to level a complaint, was that our meals were delivered to the table separately, and then they got my order wrong anyway. By the time my meal had been re-delivered, Bec had finished hers, leaving me to eat alone also. But, for a town where fresh produce is tough to come by, a better feed I couldn’t have conceived. It may well be due to us having spent so long away from the spoils of civilisation to which we are accustomed, that my standards are slipping, but in any case it was an entirely satisfactory feast.

Our short walk back to the caravan, about the only exercise we have had today, would have been totally inadequate to work off the delicious cob loaf starter, let alone the ample plates of chicken parmigiana served with a healthy dose of chips and salad we squandered away for mains. Such was the size of the serves, we didn’t even revisit the dessert menu, which we had perused so lovingly while in an obvious state of ravenousness before our meals were brought to the table. A decision I now consider may have been a frivolous oversight, as I write this several hours later, my stomach feeling worryingly hollow yet again.

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