Day 126: Lost In Space.

Alright, hands up all those who thought we were going to sit around and do nothing today, with ‘The Beast’ sitting forlornly alongside the van while waiting for spare parts to be delivered? Yep, just as I figured, there’s a few of you. Well, nothing could be further from the truth. We weren’t going to let a little matter of an incapacitated beast slow us down.

I was up at the sprightly hour of 8:00AM to organise a rental vehicle to ferry us about for the next couple of days. A couple of phone calls later and I had a car lined up for us and a taxi was on its way to deliver me to the hire company. As it turns out, we could have a little Nissan Micra for 2 days for $80.00 or if we took it for 3 days it would be only $75.00. Scratching my head, I asked what would be the result if I hired it for 3 days, but returned it after only two. “Oh, we can’t give you a refund or anything,” was the worried response. Hmm, well I guess I’ll just have to be contented with the $5.00 discount and an extra 100Km travel allowance for free then. The daily rate for the car hire, ended up being less than the cost of the 15 minute taxi ride to pick the hire car up.

With all of the paperwork out of the way, I climbed down into a bright green Nissan Micra, which was quickly and affectionately nicknamed ‘Kermit’. I then had to get the hang of having the controls in all of the wrong places compared to what I have become used to, and off I went. Out of practice at piloting a car with three pedals and a wiggly gear stick, I think I might have made the car appear even more Kermit like than its bright green duco suggested, as we hopped and jumped down the road for the first 50 metres or so until I found second gear.

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Kermit joins the brood.

It was then a quick trip back to the caravan to pick Bec up, for our planned day of shopping around for a satellite TV system. We need something to keep us entertained as we cross the Nullabor in a few short weeks time. One issue we hadn’t particularly considered was what we were to do with the dogs for the day. The car hire company has strict rules about animals not being allowed in their vehicles. The caravan park has a policy of not allowing the babies to be left alone in the van while we’re out. They do however have a couple of dog runs, where we can leave them for $20.00 a day. We had hoped not to have to leave them alone in a strange environment, for fear that they would fret, but our options today were otherwise limited.

I am sure that if they knew this morning what was happening, they wouldn’t have followed Bec so willingly down to the front office. We left them with their own beds, blankets, water bowl and a few treats, but they were still to be confined in a small concrete covered yard for the day. Not something that Alvin will take too kindly to. He is fussy at the best of times about where he goes to the toilet. He’ll pee on every tree if you let him, but for anything more substantial, everything needs to be perfect. He held on for 2 days last week, when grass was in short supply and the only option would have been to relieve himself on the sand! So a day in a concrete pen might well be his worst nightmare. Bethany on the other hand won’t care where she is, but I am sure will worry frenetically that we won’t be back for her. It was a tough decision, but with our limited time here in Perth, was the only one we could make.

The dogs were left behind with an office full of staff all fawning over them, except for one Asian girl who if not for the tough meat of older dogs would have had them for dinner. I’m still not 100% sure that she was joking either. Then we were off.

There were four addresses we had listed, for retailers of satellite TV systems, and our plan was to visit them all to see what was on offer. What we hadn’t planned for was the utter confusion that struck us the moment we walked into door number one. They naturally suggested that their system was the absolute best in terms of pretty much everything.

Then we found door number two. They naturally suggested that their system was the absolute best in terms of pretty much everything. Hang on a minute, how could that be, when system number one was obviously the best?

Then we found door number three. They naturally suggested that their system was the absolute best in terms of pretty much everything. Hang on a minute, how could that be, when system number one and two were obviously the best? Need I go on?

In the end, it came down to a mixture of price, recommendation from a few locals, friendliness and knowledge of the staff, and for me at least, the place that had the fanciest signal meter. So we found ourselves, after several hours of gazing confusedly at all manner of equipment, back at door number two, Access Antennas & Satellites. Not that our decisions and quandaries were over however, as we still had to decide between two set top boxes. After another hour of fidgeting from one foot to the other in front of a shelf full of boxes, it pretty much came down to a coin toss as to which unit we would be taking home with us.

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The basic signal meter.

 

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The you beaut fancy meter, also know as a marriage saver.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Finally, the deal was done. Despite enjoying the zippiness and ease of parking with ‘Kermit’ today, as we lugged our crates of peripherals out of the store, I was suddenly wishing I had the cavernous size of ‘The Beast’ into which to pack our haul of goodies.

With the back of ‘Kermit’ piled high, we had just enough time to head into central Perth to check the factory outlet centre, one of the places we had hoped to get to yesterday. It didn’t take us too long to buzz around to our favoured stores, before darting back to the caravan park. We needed to be back before 5:00PM, to get the dogs out of storage!

Alvin was quite matter of fact about our return, much like an elderly relative who’s been left alone at a disco. Very much, “Oh, thank you, it’s about time you returned.” Bethany was as animated as we had imagined, yapping excitedly in a high pitched voice that told us she was glad that we had remembered to come back for her. Also as expected, they both made very good use of all of the patches of grass between the office and the caravan.

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Some of our haul.

Back at the van, we were unfortunately unable to try out our newly purchased gizmos, as the receiver won’t be able to be registered until tomorrow. So look out then, as we spend the day, and maybe the day after, doing nothing but watching TV, courtesy of signals beamed all the way down to us from somewhere deep in outer space.

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If we lay here like furry pillows, maybe they won’t board us out again!

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

Posted in Everything, The Epic Journey | Tagged | 2 Comments

Day 125: Don’t Worry, Be Happy.

We had a day today that barely rates writing about. I wish it was due to the boredom of sustained inactivity, but it has more to do with it being one of those days for which you wished you’d just stayed in bed. Even if it was in bed that it all began, when I woke with a start, sometime before the alarm was due to sound.

A nightmare had roused me from my otherwise peaceful slumber, and I found myself bathed in a clammy, cold sweat. Despite the cold, the bed covers were strewn around at the foot of the bed from my tossing and turning at my invasive visions.

I had dreamt that we had turned into a caravan park, ostensibly to take a tour to see if it would be suitable for our requirements. As we turned the final corner, deciding that we would continue without stopping, we came to an impasse. A low carport roof was blocking our forward progress, and so a staff member was called for, to extricate our rig from this predicament. With the impressive twiddle of a wrench, the roof was raised to the extent that with some careful driving, our van would be able to fit beneath it. To make sure, the worker climbed up into ‘The Beast’ and accelerated successfully out of the park. Only he didn’t stop, turning savagely out onto the street, before roaring up and down the road at top speed. Up and down our precious rig went, the van sliding around, one side well up, off of the ground as high speed u-turns were conducted. All the while, I was screaming at the manager about wanting this guy fired.

As dreams do, this all happened in silent, slow motion Technicolor glory behind my fluttering eyelids, until such time that my brain could stand it no longer. I, as previously mentioned, sprang awake, dripping in sweat, while peering obliquely through the window to ensure that ‘The Beast’ was still securely attached to the caravan. It was.

I tossed and turned a little more, not having had a particularly deep sleep anyway, until the alarm went off and signaled that it was now time to get up and face the day. I had a list of chores that needed doing before we could hit the road, all of which I should have done yesterday, but had decided to put off until this morning. I was regretting this choice as I stomped around in the early morning chill, although at least it was an invigorating way to waken up fully.

Things took a little longer than expected, but we were in no major hurry this morning. Our plan was simple. Make the hour or so drive to the caravan park, which is situated in an outer suburb of Perth, unhitch the van with all possible haste, then head out for a spot of shopping. We had read about a craft and antiques fair, which promised not only to be expansive, but a great source of gifts to return home with. Should any time be left after the fair, there a few shops in Perth I love to visit every time we are over this way. We had even made a list, including their opening hours so that we could plan a strategy to ensure we made best use of our short time here. Finally, a trip to the supermarket to pick up supplies for tonights roast lamb dinner, before finally being able to kick back in the van and prepare for tomorrow.

With our plan in place, it was with a sense of excitement, and just a touch of exasperation at the ordinary driving skills we were witnessing, as we crawled off of the narrow two lane back roads that have been our home since we left Darwin and rolled onto the multi-lane freeways, all heading for Perth. As we edged closer to the city, the landscape changed from neat farmland to messy industrial areas and retail precincts. Even the urban smells are different, as the city seemed to encroach upon us.

Following the directions of ‘Shazza’ we were due to arrive at the caravan park by 10:30AM, possibly a little later than planned, but still leaving more than ample time to go about our afternoon of shopping. Even missing a turn off didn’t seem to faze me, as I thought about the goodies that were waiting to be found. A quick U-turn around a roundabout soon had us on the right track again, and we were only minutes from our destination when ‘The Beast’ let out a little squeal. I took it to be the belt again, and reminded myself to check it as soon as we stopped, a routine I have easily fallen into since having it changed. Thankfully, no abnormality has since been noticed, so I was of the thinking that it might have been just plain bad luck.

Five hundred metres down the road, I was twirling the steering wheel to pull into the caravan park, when ‘The Beast’ squealed again. This time a higher pitched, ominously continuous screeching. I killed the ignition as we rolled to a stop outside the caravan park office and sent Bec in to sort out the formalities, while I lifted the bonnet to check things out. All looked good on the drivers side, but my sigh of relief was short lived as I moved to the passenger side, where I found a bolt hanging out of one of the pulleys. This loss of connection with the mounting plate had allowed it to twist upwards and grind against a second pulley. My mechanical knowledge is limited to say the least, but I had a fair idea that this was most likely a bad thing. Who would have guessed that my nightmare might have been some sort of premonition?

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Even I know that looks bad.

After unleashing what could have been called a tirade, had I uttered more than a single four letter word repeatedly, all the while kicking the tyre like that was going to fix the problem, I rang Trucks ‘N’ Toys. I’m not sure what I was hoping to achieve on a Sunday afternoon, but I figured it would make me feel better.

Much to my surprise, my call was answered, and I was soon getting the personal attention of Ben and John, in an effort to get us moving again. This involved removing the belt again so that we could at least park the van, rather than remaining camped in the middle of the driveway, which was where we were still sitting motionless. Of course, with the belt removed the luxury of power assisted steering and braking is also removed. Now, I am sure that there are a few readers out there that grew up in a world without these now essentials, but I am not one of them. Maneuvering a close to 7 tonne, 15 metre long rig with no brakes and limited steering is not a task for the faint hearted, let me tell you. Even at the slow speed necessitated by the tight environs of the van park. The twisting and turning of the backing up was the toughest, with everything happening in extreme slow motion.

With the van finally propped, a series of phone calls and messages went between us and the guys in Sydney, during which time I was give the instructions on removing the damaged components so that they could be examined in photographs. From this, the new parts that would be required could be determined. These parts are due to be shipped out to a local mechanic tomorrow morning, for fitting on Tuesday, after which it should all be good as new again. I really can’t say enough about the service these guys provide. Am I annoyed that there has been a subsequent problem with ‘The Beast’? Of course. But I am relieved that the follow up service that John and Ben are providing goes over and above what could be expected and speaks volumes for their business acumen. So, for that I am delighted. And I still feel that the sheared bolt that caused todays mangle of pulleys is most likely the result of it going undiagnosed earlier.

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One of the pics I sent to Sydney, showing the shredded aluminium.

In any case, any thought of undertaking our planned shopping excursion went out the window. I even had to unpack the old treadly to go out and get the groceries for dinner. I knew I’d carted that bike around Australia for a reason, although my 10Km ride would have been 6Km shorter had I not gotten lost on the way to the shops. I even had to call Bec for directions, at which time she identified the source of my navigational error. It all became clear when she asked if I had turned left out of the van park. “Err, no?”

Even dinner didn’t quite go to plan, as we loaded up the oven with all of our goodies, then had to wait nearly 3 hours for it all to cook. I’m not sure if it is usual for these ovens or not, as we haven’t cooked in it often enough, but it is dreadfully slow. It was worth the ride and wait in the end, as we sat down to a lovely, if late, Sunday roast dinner, ruminating about our day of days, while trying to figure out what we are going to do tomorrow without transport. A wise old man once told me though, just tonight in fact, “don’t worry, be happy”. Thanks Dad, I’ll do that.

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

Posted in Everything, The Epic Journey | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments

Day 124: Free Time

The question was asked of me the other day, querying what our latest estimated time of arrival back in Melbourne is? Well, accounting for this mornings saving of fifteen minutes, we are now looking at 5:00PM on the 11th of October. I sincerely believe that the weather was to thank for our earlier than expected start to the morning, as I seem to run about just that bit quicker, picking up hoses and hitching the van up, when I am getting drenched by the monotonous sheath of rain that was falling upon me.

Not that our fifteen minutes got us very far, as we stopped for morning tea at the little café attached to the caravan park reception office. I had sent Bec in to settle our bill, or in our case retrieve our $100.00 dog bond, which they were overly apologetic for requiring of us. Apparently I was served by a new employee who took the instruction to obtain a $50.00 bond for dogs a little too literally. Not that it concerned us, although it was lucky we had the cash at the time of checking in to cover it. Anyway, Bec came back out of the office, all smiles, clutching the $100.00 in such a way that I just knew it was never going to again see the inside of my wallet again, while asking if I wanted a coffee.

With a fresh brewed coffee on offer, with which to start the day, I replied in the affirmative, parked the van out on the street and wandered back to the café, to find Bec ordering a piece of vanilla slice. So, there was an ulterior motive to me getting a brew after all, although at least I got to enjoy a half of the slice as well, before we mounted up and moved off again.

Although, we still hadn’t ventured further than walking distance from the caravan park when I found myself pulling to the side of the road yet again, this time to allow Bec to run into the ‘Lobster Shack’, where she was able to get herself a fresh off the boat and cooked this morning lobster for lunch.

It was somewhat past 10:00AM when we finally rolled out of Cervantes, hitting the open road to continue southward towards Perth. We are actually less than a days drive away from Perth, the capital city of Western Australia, yet in no great hurry to arrive in the urban landscape that has eluded us for so long. Not so much because we are trying to avoid the city, we’re not. We had originally planned to give Perth a wide berth, since we were here a couple of times only last year, but a yearning to be able to watch TV anywhere we want has seen us massage our itinerary to be able to stop in for a few days to hopefully source a satellite TV system.

Arriving on a Saturday seemed fruitless however, as all of the stores we want to visit are open strictly Monday to Friday. Therefore, we saw no sense in spending extra dollars on caravan park accommodation, when we would most likely sit in the van and do nothing for the majority of the day anyway. This was also the reason we decided against remaining camped up in the caravan park in Cervantes. Instead, we decided to drive just a little over a hundred kilometres to a pretty little rest area on the banks of the Moore River, where we can camp and do nothing, for nothing.

The drive was as scenic as we have enjoyed for some time, through an undulating landscape that alternated between vibrant green fields, stark white sand dunes and interestingly, forests of stubby, rotund Grass Trees or black boys as Bec likes to call them. I had never seen such a thing as a forest of these trees, so it was quite amazing and picturesque, even though the few photos we took do them no justice at all.

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One of many.

It was only 11:30AM when we pulled into the tiny little rest area that we had chosen to be our camp for the night. Even at this early hour, when even the most ardent, early rising caravanners are barely done with their morning tea, we weren’t the first to be setting up shop for the night. Another couple had just pipped us to the post for first place, although we pulled up alongside them, almost like standing in second place on a medal podium. We actually ended up parked a wee bit closer to them that what was ideal, but due to the sloping ground, we found it difficult to get the van to stand on a relatively level keel.

The only benefit of our narrow parking is that it hasn’t left any room for anyone else to park either side of us. Of course, if I had pulled in later and found some other van situated as haphazardly as we appear to be, I would have been disgusted at their sheer and utter arrogance.

By the time we had managed to level the van up, Bec had decided that it must be close enough to lunchtime, breaking out a range of tools with which to attack her lobster with. As the dogs looked on in the vain hope of a stray morsel falling their way, I watched in amusement, the camera ever at the ready, as the lobster was transformed from a red picture of delicateness, to a mass of broken shell grit and grimy looking entrails. The soft white tail meat was made short work of, before scissors and pliers were put to work honing in on the robust legs.

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Bethany licks her lips hopefully, but ultimately in vain.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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It’s a good old fashioned lobster hoedown.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

With the rest of the day to sit around and do nothing, we decided to take advantage of a rare break in the weather, during which the gloriously warm sun made a welcome appearance, to sit at the picnic table right outside our door, to read the paper. We hadn’t even opened the front page when the third place getters in the stopping for the evening race, an elderly couple from Busselton who are slowly making their own way home, came over to introduce themselves and have a chat. They are travelling with a little Poodle that Bec took an immediate fancy too. By the time the weather closed in again, the sun ducking behind a bank of rapidly congealing dark clouds, we had spent a good while sitting about doing nothing more than idly chatting. A perfectly fantastic way to spend the day we decided.

As the cold again descended on us though, we took refuge in the warmth of the van, pulling out the reams of collected brochures we have for upcoming destinations, as well as a few that had slipped through the cracks, for places we’ve already seen. A little bit more planning was then undertaken and plenty of notes were compiled, for the next stage of our trip, which will see us travel from Perth to Busselton and the Margaret River wine region, before beginning the east bound and most likely saddest segment of our journey.

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

Posted in Everything, The Epic Journey | Tagged , | 6 Comments

Day 123: The Pinnacles Of The Trip.

We had no choice but to ignore the inclement weather today, as we headed out to do a spot of sight seeing. The blustery winds that lashed us yesterday had at least appeared to have blown themselves out, although a spattering of dark stormy clouds were still hanging about overhead.

Cervantes is known as the home to the Pinnacles, at the nearby Nambung National Park. The Pinnacles were also a leading factor in our decision to stay here. Thankfully, we were granted special permission from the staff at the caravan park to leave the dogs behind for the day, as they aren’t allowed within the environs of the National Park. Thus, with the dogs remaining in the warm comfort of the van, we took the 15 minute or so drive from town, to the Nambung National Park, the entrance of which is relatively non-descript. A small gatehouse where you pay the $11.00 entry fee, which allows us to visit as many national parks as we like for the day, then a little further up the road, a spacious discovery centre and gift shop. This was worth a quick look, but was not the reason for our visit. The reason is of course the Pinnacles themselves.

There are two options for viewing these structures. You can either take the 1.5Km walk across the sand dunes and among the towering plinths, or utilse mechanised power, by driving the 4Km loop track in and amongst the Pinnacles.
We chose the latter option, as this gave us the opportunity to pull into the regular parking bays to get out for a closer look at the pillars.

By now, you might be asking yourself, what these Pinnacles actually are? Well, to answer your question, they are a multitude of limestone pillars raising up randomly from the surrounding sandy drifts. Of all shapes and sizes, there are thousands of rocky columns scattered over the nearly 17,500 hectare area. Not much more is known about their origins.

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Selfie amongst the Pinnacles.

Unfortunately for us, they are not at their best in the subdued light of an overcast day, but better seen in bright sunshine, when they cast solid shadows that grow longer as the day goes on. Regardless of the light, there is still something magical about navigating the tight, winding path through the park, pointing out some of the more statuesque like columns. Whichever direction you peer, wherever you look, the land is dotted with ‘The Pinnacles’.

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Overlooking the Pinnacles.

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The sun made an appearance for this shot.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Across the drifts.

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One of the taller examples.

 

Wildlife is also meant to be prevalent in the area, although the animals must have been having a rostered day off today, as apart from a few birds, the fauna was hard to spot.

Following our slow loop of the Pinnacles, we decided to get our monies worth out of our National Parks day pass, by making the 50Km drive north to the Lesueur National Park. After a 10Km run along a dirt road that saw ‘The Beast’ ending up as dirty as it was before I washed it in Geraldton, a sealed road takes you on a 20Km loop of the park. From the roadside, an abundance of wildflowers can be witnessed, dozens of different varieties all blooming in their colourful best. From tiny little blossoms the size of a small finger nail to great big Banksias and everything in between.

BECS WILD FLOWER ALBUM.

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I feigned interest mostly, while Bec was jumping energetically in and out of ‘The Beast’ to point, poke and prod at them all, the camera almost continually clicking away. Admittedly, there were quite a few flowers, that even I pointed at, ohhing and ahhing at their delicateness. At the midway point through the drive, a walk was on offer, but neither of us had the energy to endure a 4Km walk up the hill. We managed a couple of hundred metres along the path, before deciding that it was all too much effort, and we turned around for the comfort of ‘The Beast’. The weather wasn’t helping our efforts of exploration either, alternating between warm and sunny, or blisteringly cold, accompanied by a freezing breeze and biting droplets of heavy rain.

On the way back to Cervantes, we rounded out our sight seeing with a quick look at Lake Thetis, which boasts a colony of Stromatolites. These aren’t nearly as picturesque as those on the Exmouth peninsula, so we viewed them from ‘The Beast’, before moving onto the Hansen Bay Lookout. Bec was intent on remaining in ‘The Beast’ when she saw the steep flight of stairs leading up to the boardwalk, but I cajoled her into creeping up the steps. It was worth it for a view out over the dark green of the raging ocean, stippled with lines of white capped waves, all beneath the stormy looking grey clouds filling the sky. Off to one side, the township of Cervantes stood doggedly along the rugged coastline against the incoming weather. I thought the climb was well worth the effort, although from the minimal amount of time Bec spent at the pinnacle, I think she thought otherwise. Her statement of “Hmm, is that it?” might also have been an indication as to her negative contemplations of the view.

With the cold, wintery weather working its wiles on us, we returned to the van feeling exhausted and lacking energy. Our afternoon was then spent in the artificial warmth of the van, relaxing in front of the tele again. Even the dogs don’t seem to mind being cooped up within the small confines of the van, when it’s cold and wet outdoors. They know the rules, a gentle scratch at the door gets our attention, and them a quick pit stop. Other than that, they are happy enough to curl up on whatever soft, cushiony surface presents itself to fall asleep.

Come dinnertime, our lack of enthusiasm continued with respect to the preparation of fulfilling sustenance. Rather than resort to dining on a bag of potato chips, which was a seriously considered option, we decided to dine out. Of the 3 venues from whence a meal might be obtained, the menu at one suggested a cost that was in excess of what we wanted to pay. The second sounded good on paper, but a drive by suggested otherwise. The dining room was an agoraphobics worst nightmare, with the sole occupied table taken up by one who may have been the chef. Not a ringing endorsement on their quality of food, so we moved on to our third and final (barring the still available crisps at the van) option.

The car park at the sports club was at least patronised by a few cars, and what we took to be a few real, live, paying diners were seated in the dining room. The menu was short, but promising, and we both at least found a dish that sounded tasty.

As we waited for our meals to be delivered, we discussed getting a drink. We have been left without cash, after the caravan park took an extortionate $50.00 per dog cash bond from us. We will get it back tomorrow, but that wasn’t going to satisfy our thirst tonight. A dredge through the depths of the centre console in ‘The Beast’ luckily divulged enough loose change to get us a beer each, although we’ll be washing dishes if we want a second.

Dinner was palatable, the creamy sauce in which our chicken floated in was very tasty, although the vegetables could have done with another minute or so in the microwave. Whichever way we looked at it, it was better than having to cook and clean up for ourselves, and infinitely better than the allure of potato chips. They can wait for supper now.

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

Posted in Everything, The Epic Journey | Tagged , , | 4 Comments

Day 122: Getting Carried Away.

For the first day in almost a week, we didn’t need to be up at any particular time, so could sleep in for as long as we desired this morning. We made the most of the opportunity too, as it wasn’t until 11:00AM that our travel weary bodies roused to life, albeit very lethargically. The recent change in the weather that we have experienced hasn’t helped brighten our moods either, with a rhythmic drumming of rain pelting down against the van the first thing we heard upon awakening. This didn’t bode well for our plans of doing some sightseeing later this afternoon.

In fact the inclement weather was to be a near constant for the day, seeing us darting in and out of the van between showers to complete some chores. Our plan had always been to give the interior of ‘The Beast’ a good overhaul. If there was a way of DNA testing sand, I am certain that grains of silica could be identified from right up and down the west coast. The cleaning of ‘The Beast’ took longer than we expected, as we had to unpack everything to allow us to give it a good once over.

While we were at it, we also used the prospect of a slow day, to give the inside of the van a once over. Sweep, polish, dust and vacuum, we did it all. It wasn’t fun, but it had to be done.

With all of our housework completed, I was ready to collapse back into bed, but Bec had other ideas. Just down the road from the caravan park is the ‘Lobster Shack’, which specialises in fresh lobster, straight from the boat. Bec had first read about this place when we were up in Darwin and has been eagerly anticipating a luncheon of lobster ever since. Today was to be the day.

If it wasn’t for the fact that we aren’t meant to leave the dogs in the van, we most likely would have just walked the couple of blocks, but instead had to load them into ‘The Beast’ for the 30 second drive. They then sat up high and mighty in the back seat keeping an eye on the goings on in the car park, while we went to check out what was on offer.

As well as cooked lunches there is frozen produce and souvenirs for sale. Tours of the factory are also available. I was interested in taking one of these tours, but due to the current conditions, only a single boat had been out this morning and regular factory functions had ceased for the day already. Instead, we salivated over the menu, before settling on a platter for two, which included a serve of chips, salad, a couple of bits of fresh fish, crumbed fish and lobster balls and the crowning glory, a half a lobster.

While waiting for our order to be prepared, we sat in the outdoor dining hall, at long, bulky timber trestles, surrounded by the almost sickly, but delicious aroma of deep fried fare, bemoaning the fact that the weather was so miserable. The rain came and went in dripping grey sheets, blown wildly about by a blustery wind that felt like it contained icicles. For the first time for as long as I can remember, I had to dig out our coats from the back of ‘The Beast’. Even rugged up in jackets, the cold wind was stinging on our still exposed faces, giving our cheeks a freshly rouged look, as we tried our best to formulate a plan that would allow us to turn around and head back up north. Just another few months ought to be enough, but I can’t see our respective employers being so obliging to our wants.

As our number was called to announce that our lunch was served, Bec nearly jumped out of her seat with excitement. Our platter was overflowing with goodies, half of the plate taken up by the lobster. Luckily for Bec, I have no interest in the allure of lobster, so she was free to suckle away at the sweet meat, tugging and tearing it from the grasp of the shell in a whirlwind of flying shell fragments and morsels of flesh. Even a gangly, thick leg was ripped from the body, wrapped in a napkin and secreted away in a pocket for further attention back at the van, where a pair of pliers would be used to liberate the final mouthful of tasty lobster flesh.

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Lunch is served.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Tucking in.

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Been there, done that. Might be back to do it all over again tomorrow,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our bellies bloated by the greasy goodness of our lunch, Bec suggested taking the dogs for a walk along the beach on the way back to the van. I vetoed the idea though, after having just spent my morning ridding any and all stray grains of sand from within ‘The Beast’. I wasn’t going to have it contaminated again so soon. Not only that, but the breeze had picked up and was now blowing an almost gale, right in from the ocean and across the van park. In short, the weather was hardly conducive to a relaxing stroll along the beach.

Instead, we cocooned ourselves in the van to watch some more episodes of ‘The Wire’, as the wind buffeted the van. It was so bad, I even considered the safety aspects of strapping us into the bed, just in case the van should be overturned by the wallowing gusts. By this stage, any consideration of going out again was put aside, as I figured that our extra body weight might be just enough to prevent the van from spiraling off into the atmosphere like the farm house in the Wizard of Oz. Although, on second thoughts, being carried off on the wind to a colourful land of warmth and beauty wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing.

It didn’t happen though, and we instead remained indoors to escape the drudgery, trying as best we could to ignore the loud creaking and flapping noises coming from outside, while dodging a load of laundry that we had to hang up around the inside of the van in a desperate effort to get it to dry. No questions asked, I’d sooner be whining about the oppressive heat than the aggressive cold.

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

Posted in Everything, The Epic Journey | Tagged , , | 6 Comments