Cold. That’s how I slept, that’s how I woke up, and until the sun had almost hit its zenith, that is how it remained. For all of the effort we have gone to in order to avoid the crippling cold Melbourne winter, there was always going to be a time when we left the tropical warmth behind us. Today felt like that turning point, which hit us as depressingly as being hit over the back of the head with a mallet, or in my case a carelessly flung open caravan window (which by the way didn’t leave me with the shining black eye I had hoped it would).

On a more positive note, as we continue our southward journey along the west coast, getting ever closer to civilisation, the distances are reducing drastically. We had only a little over a hundred kilometres to drive today to reach our next stop in Geraldton. Before getting underway though, we decided to make the most of the chance for a late start. We both polished off a big bowl of hot creamy porridge for breakfast, before we took the dogs for a walk around the now nearly empty campground. While there was a definite chill in the air and the ground was damp with condensation, there was a certain warmth in the rays of the sun which felt lovely on our backs as we muddled about with the pooches.

By 10:30AM, we were ready to go, slowly grinding across the paddocky camping area and back onto the solid highway surface. With hardly an hour passing before arriving at our caravan park on the northern outskirts of Geraldton, we were surprised at the distinct change in the scenery. We travelled through rolling dales of neatly tilled fields. From the bright green stems and vivid yellow flowers, I would guess that the majority of the pastures were planted with canola. Cresting the many rises gave us much opportunity to peer through the windscreen at fields spreading out before us like a multicoloured patchwork quilt.

The choice was made enroute, not to make the detour to Kalbarri, as we had originally planned. Our original itinerary actually had us staying in Kalbarri rather than Geraldton, but the major sights around the small coastal township of Kalbarri were all contained within national parks. With none of the caravan parks willing to allow us to leave Alvin and Bethany behind while we went exploring, we saw no point in staying there.

The more direct route to Geraldton therefore took us through the quaint little town of Northampton. I am imagining that it looked much like a ghost town due to it being a Sunday today, which was a shame, because the beautiful old buildings called for more than just a casual drive through town without leaving the main strip. Eager to continue on our way to Geraldton, this was all we managed today however, leaving further exploration for another time perhaps?

Two other things of note occurred during our drive. Firstly, I was required to remind myself of the location of the windscreen wiper switch, as we motored through a short, but depressing fall of rain. Secondly, we were again overtaken by an ignorant motorist, who lacked the sufficient observational skills to see a car coming towards him. This guy came even closer than the ute driver from the other day and had Bec rattled for a good period, as he sped off into the distance. I was just left shaking my head, hoping that there isn’t going to be a next time.

Our arrival at the caravan park was awkward. While Bec went in to sort out the payment, a friendly old fellow came out to show me where to park the rig. He had great ideas, advising me to just drive down that little street there, follow it round, come back up the other side and we would then be able to drive straight onto our site with no need for any pesky reversing. Hey, this sounds exactly like our kind of site. The only minor issue was, the narrow paths within the park that meant that we weren’t actually able to maneuver our lengthy articulated rig around the tight corners. A quick change of plan by the old bloke trying his utmost to help us park, saw us allocated a much easier to access plot, although even this required the removal of one of the wooden bollards surrounding the adjacent playground to provide us with the necessary space in which to move.

With the van finally edged carefully into position, we set up and put a load of washing on. I’m still concerned about the leakage issue, but we have found that running the waste out of a shorter hose doesn’t seem to cause as much flooding. As a result, I am going to button up the pipe shield that has been hazardously rolling about the back of ‘The Beast’ for the better part of a week and wait until we get home to make any major modifications to the plumbing system. In the meantime, we will use the washing machine as often as we can so as to be able to keep a close eye on any further developing problems. Woo hoo, clean clothes for all!

We all live in a yellow submarine.

With the laundry hung out under ominously darkening skies, we headed into town for a look around. Interestingly, we came across a yellow submarine which I initially expected to be dedicated to the ‘Beatles’, but was actually a prototype of a submarine that was to be used by the locally prawn fishing industry. Otherwise, like a tiny country town a quarter of the size of Geraldton, everything was tightly shut and locked up for the weekend. They sure do take the whole Sunday is a day of rest thing seriously around here, as apart from a couple of fast food joints and a single supermarket, nothing was open. We were ecstatic to find the supermarket, as we had no other options for dinner and didn’t really relish the idea of a mass produced hamburger of cardboard like attributes. Supplies for a bang up stir-fry were purchased before we were on our way again.

On the way back to the van we took the time to stop at the extremely poignant memorial to the 645 sailors who lost their lives when the HMAS Sydney II was sunk during a 1941 naval battle. Erected atop a hill that overlooks Geraldton and the harbour, a line can be drawn from here to where the wreck was finally located, off of the coast of Steep Point. The many elements of the memorial all come together collectively, while walking about them with no one else about the silence adds to the mystique of the entire area.

HMAS Sydney II memorial.

Me at the memorial. Notice the change in my attire. It’s back to long pants for the foreseeable future.

Back at the van, I screwed the protective plate back across the plumbing, before cleaning up for dinner. Who would have guessed it, but we didn’t think much of the sauce we poured over our stir-fry, so have now endured two terrible dinners in a row. Those mass produced burgers accompanied by salty, stringy fries and a watery cup of Coke were looking mighty fine.

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