The wind had picked overnight, blowing the lake into a frothy frenzy and leaving a smattering of salty suds across the ground by our van this morning. Not only that, but it dawned cold for us, as we set about ensuring that the final packing up was completed. We had allowed ourselves an hour, which as it turned out was five minutes too little, although I don’t think anyone was the wiser that we had overstayed our welcome at the park by a few minutes.

Out of Robe, we joined the main road, turning our backs on the coast as we tread a path inland towards the centre of Victoria, bound for Horsham via Naracoorte. It took us a little under an hour and a half to reach Naracoorte, but the journey felt much longer, the bumpy roads contributing to our discomfort. There didn’t seem to be a flat bit of road for the entire distance, ‘The Beast’ wallowing over the great rolling undulations like a ship sailing through a heavy swell, only a sea going craft wouldn’t need contend with the tyre swallowing potholes with which we were also faced. Sans van, attempts may have been made to skirt the worst of them, but fearing an embarrassing, painful and expensive jack knife situation we were forced to barrel on over them, gritting our teeth as we sprung about inside, like chickens pecking for seed.

The not so fun mornings drive saw us making an unscheduled stop in Naracoorte in an effort to unkink our travel weary bones. We made use of our time by browsing through the local information centre, to which a little gallery of crafts was attached. We could also have taken a look through the museum of which the information offices was an annex, but given the scope and size of it, decided it would have to wait for another time.

A quick lunch at one of the fast food places that I despise so much, yet still find the need to frequent for the convenience, followed by a giant tub of coffee to get me through the next stage of the trip and we were on our way again. It wasn’t too much further down the road that we made our next stop, for a most disheartening photo opportunity, as we crossed the imaginary line on the road that signifies the border crossing between South Australia and our home state of Victoria.

Woo hoo, not! Our final border crossing for the trip.

While it might have denoted a momentous moment in our odyssey, it was certainly not the joyous occasion that has greeted some of our previous border crossings. Not only was it a sombre juncture, but it saw us lose a half an hour as we adjusted our timepieces to the east coast time zone. As we rejoined the road, our only hope was that Victoria would provide us with a smoother strip of bitumen on which to roll the wheels of ‘The Beast’ than had South Australia.

Our prayers seemed to have been answered as the first couple of kilometres of Victorian road took on the appearance of a billiard table. It lasted just long enough for us to pass comment that we had found the South Australian roads to have been some of the worst we have traversed, while the Northern Territory had provided us with some of the best, when todays road again degenerated into a narrow strip of tar that had seen better days. At least some of the larger fissures were helpfully highlighted with white paint, so that we could brace for the impact in a timely manner.

Our reason for heading inland towards Horsham was so that we could catch up with some of Becs family that live in the area. This had the added advantage that we were able to park the van at Becs Nans place. It will almost be like free camping for the few nights that we are spending here, only with the benefit of being able to plug into power.

It was about 2:30PM when we rolled up the drive at Becs Nans, which is a property located a little way out of town and features a drive way that is not only big enough for us to park in, but big enough for us to turn around in. Propped now as we are, on what would compare as one of the biggest sites we’ve been on, with only a few days less than six months under our belts, we still took two bites at the cherry to park successfully. Admittedly, it wasn’t due to our incompetence, as our skills are getting pretty good, as you would expect, by now. It was to do with the fall of the land seeing the van leaning uncomfortably and uncorrectable to one side. While ramps were still wedged under the wheels on one side, moved a foot further across the drive, we were soon sitting on a level keel, ready to unhitch and set up shop for a couple of days.

Not until the van was set up did we stop for a break and to finally spend some time catching up on all of the gossip. It must be several years since we were last here in Horsham, so there was plenty to discuss and the afternoon soon turned to evening, whereupon the venue was changed, as we headed off for dinner at Becs Aunty and Uncles.

What a joy that was, to feast upon a home cooked meal, with good company and no need to concern ourselves with the task of cleaning up, although to be fair, we did offer to help with the dishes. As the night wore on, I fought my tiredness brought about by my overstuffed belly and our big day, as the funny family anecdotes were rolled out. Like all good tales that get better each time they are told, the stories that were bandied about this evening were obviously oft iterated and well matured, so belly aching laughter was a guaranteed result. It was near on midnight by the time we eventually returned to the van, ready to about fall into bed for a good nights rest.

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