It was meant to be an auspicious day today, for today marked the half way point of our odyssey. Ninety days have past and ninety days remain. It was indeed an auspicious day, just for all the wrong reasons however.

Firstly, I woke up with the alarm at 8:30AM, feeling like I hadn’t slept at all, which was never to be a good start to the day. A fact that Bec soon bore the brunt of as we packed the van up. I was like a bear with a sore head and it took very little to get me all fired up. I was not by any stretch of the imagination, in a good mood at all.

Then we were all set to win a hard fought 15 minutes towards or Melbourne arrival time back, when a bloke sidled up to ask about ‘The Beast’. He is driving a big Chevrolet Silverado, and was in for a chat about the relative merits of both vehicles. I tried to tell him that the Ram would win hands down, but he didn’t want to listen. In the end, figuring that he wasn’t to be converted, I gave up wasting my time, said my farewells and we hit the road, right on 10:00AM. So much for getting some time back.

The journey today was at least a pretty drive, through an ever changing landscape. It began by driving through wide plains on greyish spinifex, dotted with hundreds of small red termite mounds, each reaching skyward through the grasses like red marker bouys in a channel of silvery grey water. The spinifex plains morphed into rolling hills that saw us rolling along an undulating road of twists and turns as it edged its way around the higher hills. This scenery quickly became more angular, as the rolling hills became sharp cliff faces and craggy escarpments of orange rock.

No time (or anywhere) to stop. As shot from the car.

It was as we were passing through this area, a sign advised us that we were leaving the East Kimbeleys region and entering the West Kimberleys. I was on the verge of making mention that there seemed to be no difference, when the vistas surrounding us changed yet again, with wide open tracts of low green shrubbery and vivid green grass now encompassing us.

Regardless of the sights about us, we were putting the miles behind us in relative comfort. The gauge for exterior temperature was showing a steady 35^oC, while inside the beast, even with the sun streaming strongly through the expansive glass of the windscreen, the air conditioning was keeping us cool. Aided by the fan cooled seats, it was indeed luxury.

I only mention this, because we had made what might be declared to be a very poor decision to free camp again tonight. With the choice of only one suitable camp ground along our route between Halls Creek and Derby, we rolled into the spacious area at a little before 2:00PM. Already at this early hour, the number of vans parked up for the day was surprising. Not only that, but all the best sites were already taken, not that there were any that were any better a site than the next. For what was meant to be a well maintained rest area, it was atrocious. The only trees taller than head height, were bare spindly twigs, so there was no shade to be had anywhere. On top of that, the entire area was so un-level, just finding a place on which to park was a nightmare.

My temper flared once more, as we moved around the grounds in an embarrassing dance of ineptitude, finally settling on the third location we begrudgingly maneuvered into. Even when we did eventually decide on a spot, it failed to provide us with a level pitch on which to park, it provided us with no opportunity to wind out the awning to provide us with a little bit of shade, and there was no easy spot on which the set up the camp chairs that would enable us to take advantage of any shade thrown by the van. It was as if the deities of caravanning were sending us a reminder that just because we have prevailed through the first three months, we are far from home and there will be plenty more hurdles which we will have to endure over the coming three months.

Of course, it didn’t help that the temperature was still extremely hot. So hot in fact that the tar of the road surface was melting, a gooey black conglomerate of stones sticking to the soles of our sandals with every step we took. This type of temperature doesn’t agree so well with Bec or the dogs. I don’t particularly mind it, but my ability to function is still detrimentally impaired as the mercury rises, and sitting about in the van, even with the fan swishing about the warm air, it was akin to sitting in a sauna. If I had been moody earlier, now it was Becs turn to shine, although her ire and despondency could at least be blamed on the heat stroke from which I am sure she was suffering.

With Bec quickly wilting in the heat like a week old bunch of flowers, and the dogs following suit, something had to be done. The decision was quickly made, that since we had no other option but to remain parked here overnight, we would nestle the camp furniture between the van and ‘The Beast’ in the only tiny little bit of shadow from the sun that was available. With the barest of a breeze flowing past us, it was at least semi-bearable and certainly a much better alternative to sitting in the van.

Making the most of what shade was available.

Incredibly, as we sat and languished in the heat, a tour bus pulled in to disgorge its passengers for an obviously much needed pit stop. One of the elderly blokes who disembarked called a cherry “hello” to us and before we knew it, we had struck up a conversation with him, only to find that he lives barely half an hour from us back in Melbourne. What are the chances of sitting here, smack bang in the middle of nowhere and coming across someone who is almost a neighbor?

To celebrate successfully reaching the half way point of our trip, I fashioned us a dinner of ‘bangers and mash’, amply assisted by a pack of sausages and a premixed sachet gravy we had salvaged from the supplies given to us by our visitors way back in Darwin. This I was able to cook outdoors on the barbeque, as the sun slipped down below the horizon, at long last providing us with a slither of relief from the heat.

A hearty meal of bangers and mash.

Selfie at sunset.

The sunset (pre-wine).

As we dined al fresco, I somberly cracked open a bottle of very good red wine that had kindly been donated to our cause before we left home. My good friend, and regular reader, David, had passed the bottle on, with the instruction that it was to be enjoyed at the half way point. Well, here we are, now half inebriated as a result of the highly quaffable nectar, hoping that we have a better day tomorrow, as this was not in any way or form, how we had envisioned day 90 playing out. Well, the wine was, thanks again David, but nothing else was planned this way.

Carefully pour…

… sit back and enjoy.

Blurry sunset (post wine).

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