I had grand plans today of plying all of my readers with tales of fun and excitement. Regaling you all with our yarns of adventurous exploration. Plenty of humorous anecdotes would have rounded out todays blog.

Our day was to start with another early morning, to allow us a visit to another weekend market, this time full of bric-a-brac. We would meander along the aisles, picking through the trash and treasure looking for that clandestine bargain. A few more books for the remainder of our travels wouldn’t go astray, and there is always someone selling fishing gear, of which I could always do with some more. Bec would look longingly at the plants, knowing full well the folly of buying anything here on the other side of Australia, or maybe she would find a few handmade birthday cards to add to our already substantial collection. Just the smell of freshly brewing coffee can get my heart racing, so a cup of java would be enjoyed, while Bec would ponder the sweetness of a hot chocolate.

From the market, ‘The Beast’ full of all our purchases, we were in for a 75Km drive north of Carnarvon then, to Point Quobba where the snorkeling is supposed to be excellent. With the temperature settling to a top in the mid to high twenties on the Celsius scale and only a light breath of a breeze, conditions promised to be sensational. Brightly coloured fish, swimming amongst the delicate branches of coral, all beneath the gleaming, shimmering waters would be cast an examining eye.

Snorkelling paradise.

Beneath the waves.

To warm ourselves after our snorkelling exploration of the little, weather protected coral cove, we would walk across the dunes and rocks to the ‘blowholes’ where wave action through fissures in the stony shoreline cause geysers of sea water to shoot spectacularly skyward in spurts reaching up to 20 meters high.

The blow holes.

On the way back to the van, there is that giant radar dish that dominates the skyline near the caravan park to check out. It has something to do with transmitting TV images of the first lunar landing back to the USA.

Earth station, Carnarvon.

Imagine the TV reception you could get with a dish like that.

None of these activities actually transpired however as our plans were transmogrified after a couple of unsettling incidents late last night. First of all, Karma is a bitch. For all my harping about following the rules and policies, we decided to put a load of washing through our own machine, waiting until after dark in a sneaky attempt to avoid detection. While we didn’t get caught out, we did find that as it drained, the back end of the van took on the appearance of a top end waterfall in full flow at the height of the wet season. Thankfully the cascade of soapy grey water was confined to the exterior of the van, but nonetheless it is of concern. I have been noticing it over the last couple of weeks, but last night was the worst I’ve seen it. From what I could tell, of the 44 litres of water the machine is meant to use during each cycle, about 40 litres ended up soaking slowly into the stony, arid earth directly beneath the van.

The second problem we had was in relation to the dogs. Both have seemed to be a little off coloured for the previous couple of days. There has been nothing specific, other than them both being relatively lethargic and quieter than their usual selves. All day yesterday though, they also suffered from rather loose bowels, which in itself wasn’t too much of an issue, but when Bethany added some bright red blood to her outgoings, we started to worry.

Of course, being a Sunday today, there are no vets open to consult with, so we decided that we would spend the day in the van allowing us to watch over her. That being the case, I in turn decided to spend the bulk of my day, flat on my back, underneath the caravan, peering perplexedly at the bottom of the floor, all the while scratching my head in consternation about the conundrum that was, from whence was that bloody river of water flowing from last night.

Before I knew it, the back end of the van was in pieces, bits of caravan scattered widely across our site, but I was still no closer to finding the source of the leak, nor a solution for preventing any further flooding cascades. The best I can figure is that back pressure in the washing machine outlet is causing water to flow back up towards the sinks, but where the actual leaks in the system are, well that is still an unsolved enigma. The best I can hope for is to make a temporary modification to the plumbing, so as we can continue using the washer without fear of flooding our site, creating a lake in which the caravan can become a sinking ship. This means that I now have another day of toil ahead of me tomorrow, as by the time I had ascertained what bits and bobs were required to have a go at reorganizing the maze of pipes anchored to the underside of the van, the hardware shops had closed their doors for today.

Suffice to say, after wasting all morning and a good part of the afternoon messing about beneath the van, all the while accomplishing exactly zilch for my efforts, I was not a happy chappy. I was at least buoyed by Alvin and Bethanys apparent recovery, although we maintained a close eye on them just in case. A trip to the vet tomorrow to put our minds at ease will still be arranged.

Feeling rather disheartened about the continued issues we have experienced with the van, we spent the afternoon trying to forget about it all, as we got stuck into some further planning. We are still after all, in the midst of our odyssey, and we’re not going to let a little thing like our van falling apart stop us from completing our trip. Sure, the van may well look like an oversized garden trailer by the time we get home, but by golly, we’re going to make it all the way round.

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