Before you begin to partake in todays activities with us, I must ask you to gently grasp your nose between your forefinger and your thumb. Now read along, out loud and you will get some kind of indication as to what it would sound like if I were to tell you our story in person. Becs man flu you see, has transcended genders and is trying adroitly to take hold in the deep recesses of my head. I am refusing to let it affect me though and will battle on efficaciously.

I was expecting to wake this morning in time to watch the sun slip over the distant horizon, bringing about the bright beginning of a new day. My expectations were dashed however, when I woke to the crescendo of the alarm at 7:50AM, only to find the sun already well on its way towards its azimuth. Regardless of how far the sun had already risen, it was a pointless endeavor to enjoy its rise, as it was hidden by a dense shield of gloomy grey clouds that were an equal match to the fog that clouded my brain.

We had allowed two hours to pack up our belongings, hitch the van back up to ‘The Beast’ and depart on todays reasonably easy drive. As it turned out, time was on our side this morning, to the extent that when we were ready to leave by 9:15AM, I was certain that we had neglected to do something. I even double-checked everything as Bec ensured that the babies were exorcised of their pent up energy. It was as I boosted them into the cabin of ‘The Beast’ that Bec asked if she could now detach the bright neon orange power cable that was still linked between the side of the van and the power post. Now, that would have been an interesting exit. Did I mention that I don’t feel well!

Port Augusta is the apex of many a good road trip, with options to travel in pretty much any direction. Our choice of progress was on a generally northwesterly bearing, towards one of our favoured little campgrounds perched upon the salinity-laden shores of Lake Hart, just off of the Stuart Highway. It is barely a couple of hours from Port Augusta, but we are all too aware that it can fill up rather quickly, and given that we are planning to camp there for a couple of nights, we thought it prudent to make as early an arrival as our body clocks would allow.

The road out was thankfully in good repair and I noticed with glee, although not wanting to jinx myself, that the fuel gauge settled into a much more regular rhythm of depicting the depletion of our fuel stores. So much so that the two jerry cans of prime diesel purchased yesterday in Port Augusta may well not be needed. Not just yet in any case, as the economy meter suggests that once we leave Lake Hart, we ought to make our next destination with fuel to spare. It might be into the single digits when measured in litres, but fuel enough we should have.

The drive today also marked the beginning of the outback as far as I am concerned. The vistas opening up, with low green and grey shrubs dotted across a wide-open expanse of red sand. We even got to witness our first wildlife (apart from a couple of Kangaroos Bec saw yesterday), with pods of emus roaming along the roadside verge. There was also the very ugly tourist, an obvious city slicker, who thought it necessary to proudly announce over the very public UHF radio airwaves to her travelling companions that they must be nearing the Northern Territory because she had just seen her first indigenous people. And they weren’t the exact words she used! Some people just don’t seem to possess a shred of common decency.

It was barely 11:30AM when we turned off of the highway, negotiating a hard, sun baked red clay and sand track to the exact same campsite we camped in last time we forayed this way. In a scene of marvelous timing, the sheaf of clouds that have been prompting a dreary illumination for the best part of the morning dispersed, allowing us to enjoy the slight vestige of warmth provided by the sun as we unpacked what we needed. Little more than an hour later, the van set up and sandwiches densely filled to overflowing with roast chicken and coleslaw enjoyed for luch, we surrendered to our bursting bellies and early morning start by having an afternoon nap.

Actually, I lie. While Bec napped, quite deeply I would suggest if her noises of nasal distress are anything to judge by, I read for a while, before humping down to the lake for a look. In stark contrast to our last visit, water is almost encroaching upon the shores, while the thick crust of effervescent salt crystals has diminished to a translucent scab through which the underlying brown dirt is almost visible.

Returning from my aimless wander, somewhat wearier than I would have liked, I sat myself down in front of the computer to put into writing, what we’ve been experiencing with all of our senses.

Bec Battling The Dreaded ‘Man Flu’.

Marcus Battling The Dreaded ‘Man Flu’.

Having now reached the outback proper, I can but hope that rain is minimal, warmth is maximal and further predicaments are avoidable, because as I sit here at the little dining room table writing this, I can look across the van to see my three babies still slumbering gently on the bed, while outside, the eye stinging yellow orb of the sun is slowly making its way towards the horizon through a cloudless sky that I am sure will produce the most awe-inspiring of sunsets. Why would I be anywhere else?

Bethany.

Alvin.

Did I Not Promise You A Spectacular Sunset.

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