The noise of rain tumbling down onto the tin roof of the van was deafening this morning. An ominous beginning to our day we might have guessed. In the murky grey early morning light, water dripping from the folds of my waterproof jacket and pants, I set about the dreary task of packing the caravan up, ready to depart.

There were the usual tasks to be completed, inside and out, before we could get underway, although we made good time this morning, pulling out of our site a full ten minutes earlier than we had planned for. Due to the constricted access about the park, we quickly used that extra ten minutes just extricating the van from the site and negotiating our way out of the dog legged driveway.

It was then only a couple of minutes down the road that we were making our first stop of the morning, to make use of the conveniently located black water dump spot. With a quick last look about the van to ensure we were ready, we did then hit the road proper, sluicing through road engulfing puddles while the wipers wove a hypnotic path across the windshield as they struggled to clear the swathes of pebble sized water droplets that were bouncing furiously against the glass. In short, it was a miserable morning of the highest degree.

Pressing on through the deluge, we headed in a northerly direction towards Norseman. Norseman is the gateway to the great Nullarbor Plains and it was here that we were planning to stop for fuel, lunch and information to assist us in our crossing. We have talked about crossing the Nallarbor for a good many years, and today would mark the beginning of our long held dreams.

Having driven this same route south from Kalgoorlie the other day, there was little of interest along the way that we hadn’t already seen, although as we neared the tiny little town of Salmon Gums, I was contemplating making a quick stop. It was here that we had stopped on the way down to Esperance for a toilet break, and I was considering making the same stop again. With this in mind, and already slowing down as we came to the town limits, we rounded the final bend, only to be confronted with a long line of stationary cars, caravans and trucks, stretching along the tarmac for as far as the eye could see. It was only 11:30AM.

Well that’s not good.

With hazard lights flashing, car doors left ajar and plenty of folk milling about on the side of the road in the drizzle, I knew that there was something seriously amiss. There was no vehicular movement, as we sat up high in the cabin of ‘The Beast’ looking over the cars ahead of us. We soon learned, through the powers of a very sketchy Internet signal that the sirens we had heard buzzing hurriedly through Esperance last night must have been making their way out to a spot on the road between Salmon Gums and Norseman, where a car had left the road with tragic consequences. The road was still closed now, but there was no information forthcoming as to how long the closure would remain in place.

So like everyone else, we sat and waited. What else were we to do? There was nowhere to go. No way around. A quick look at our maps had borne out that idea. So, that was it, we sat and waited. After the first 15 minutes, Bec started to get fidgety. By 30 minutes into our ordeal, she was getting seriously fidgety, making it difficult for me to focus quietly on my book. An hour in and she was almost ready to walk the rest of the way to Norseman. It was at the hour mark that a ute resplendent with strobing orange lights slowly made its way along the line of stationary vehicles, the driver stopping alongside each one. The information he gave us wasn’t great. The road was expected to be closed until well after 4:00PM, still another 3 ½ hours away at least.

My initial reaction was to sit and wait until the road reopened, then drive for another hour or so until dark. That idea was quickly shot down by Bec, so I suggested pulling to the side of the road and spending the night. We had after all planned on free camping anyway. I struck out too on that plan, when Bec suggested checking out the caravan park in town. From where we were, she reckoned, we ought to be able to slip down a back street or two to enable us to reach the park.

I wasn’t terribly pleased with this idea, imagining a quagmire of a park, already filled to capacity with people all thinking along the same lines. Bec persisted however, even to the point of jumping out, to run down the street to find out where the park might be found.

Down a dirt road, which had fortunately weathered the torrential downpour better than I could have expected, we located what could only very loosely be termed a caravan park. More of a siding really, there were already a dozen vans neatly lined up, each sidled up to and plugged into one of the several power posts that were spread along the area. A fire pit and small toilet block to which an honesty box was secured completed the picture. There were no fences, no offices, apparently no rules and no choices of sites, as we quickly backed into one of the last two remaining. It was but 12:45PM and our day was done. Far from attaining the three or four hundred kilometres we had planned for, we had travelled a paltry 100Km for the day. At least, for the meager price of $15.00 slipped into an envelope and dispersed into the hopefully secure moneybox at the toilet block, we have access to power, water, toilets and showers for the night, so we could fire up the heater and relax for the remainder of the afternoon and evening in front of the TV. With the comfort of the heater producing a tropical strength warmth within the van, I also quickly warmed to Becs insistence that we pull into the park, rather than brave the dark and chilly roadside.

Bugger the Coke, just give me the Bundy.

As it turns out, it wasn’t until 6:00PM that word went out over the CB radio, to the whooping cheers of truck drivers and stranded travellers alike, that the road had been re-opened. It was already dark by then, so even if we hadn’t been snugly cozied up, probably too inebriated to drive in any case, we were staying put for the night. We can make a renewed assault at a start on the Nullarbor tomorrow.

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