Another day, another drive. We are quite happy that as we get closer to Perth, the distances we need to cover each day are getting shorter, which equates to a whole lot less stress on us, the dogs, the van and ‘The Beast’. Today for instance, we only need cover a bit over 200Km in order to reach our next port of call in Cervantes. Before we could be on the way though, we needed to get hitched up and ready to go.
The whole moving out process was made all the more difficult since the bollard that was helpfully removed from the ground the other day to allow us access to our site has since been replaced. I was able to mate ‘The Beast’ to the van easily enough, but was left little room to move without sliding the timber bollard from its loose hole in the ground. As we made a slow circuit of the playground to put us back on the exit road, I was left to wonder what may have been had the bollards been immovable encumbrances. We might well still be stuck there, edging forwards and backwards, inch by inch in an effort to perform a thousand point U-turn.
It doesn’t bear considering, as we did manage to successfully maneuver out of our tight little spot and get underway. We were only on the road for a matter of minutes before we were pulling in to make our first stop. Our second gas bottle had breathed its final gasp of gas the other day, and so required filling. The local barbeque shop was able to fill it, for less than half the price that we had paid for the other bottle of gas last week. If I’d known that, I would have farted down the gas line to get us through our night of free camping the other night and waited to fill both bottles here for less than the price of one. Lesson learned, although I fear the fridge may not be compatible with my bodily produced gas and I dread to think what fetid aromas might come of cooking with methane.
On the road proper, we set ‘Shazza’ to take us along the scenic coastal route to Cervantes. I’m not too sure where scenic comes into it, as for the most part we were separated from any ocean vistas by view blocking sand dunes. Even though there was only the occasional glimpse of water, the countryside through which we were travelling more than made up for a lack of sea views.
Pulling into Cervantes, we headed directly for the caravan park, where another slight site had us playing a life sized game of Tetris with the van. With two ways to come at the site, I decided to give what looked to be the easiest option a go first, second and third. Three times was definitely not the charm as the whole rig still remained resolutely in the middle of the access road, no closer to being parked on the site than when we started.
As we had a break to reassess our parking strategy, another bloke came over towards us. I was ready for him to give me some helpful advice, which I would have gladly taken if it helped us onto out little plot of grass and shade mesh covered sand. Rather than the valuable counsel I had hoped for, our audience participant could only offer that he too had once tried to reverse into a similar shaped site with his rather much smaller rig, only to have to throw his hands up in defeat. Well, defeat was no option for us, as the park is rather busy, so a more practical site would be hard to come by.
After scratching my head, stepping out the site a couple of times, then walking around the van three times, I decided to try another tact and come at the site from the opposite direction. This involved a much tighter and more difficult reverse around to the left, but it was our last alternative. Holding my breath as I grabbed reverse gear, I slowly wound the steering wheel around as I let up on the brake. Ever so slowly, with the helpful guidance of Bec from the outside, the van rolled up onto the grassy site, perfectly lined up with the shade cloth mat that was to serve as an annex pad. We were exalted at our efforts, high fiving each other as I jumped down from ‘The Beast’ to admire how well we were parked. We couldn’t have settled it any better if we had tried I thought, as I waved cheerily across to our audience of one. Give up? Never. Defeat? Not in our vocabulary.
After working our way through our usual list of chores to get the van reset for living in, we dragged the dogs back out to ‘The Beast’, to go for a drive about town. We have been here once before, many years ago, but apart from recognising the hotel we had stayed at on that occasion, I don’t recall much else. Not that there is much here. It is basically a coastal holiday township, with the permanent residents mostly employed in the lobster fishing trade or tourism.
The fishing is said to be excellent, and while I didn’t ready our rods, we did take a look at the jetty, which was wind lashed and miserable looking. It didn’t help that the weather was closing in, rain surely not too far off. Bec was excited however, upon spotting a doggy doo bag dispenser, which she proceeded to almost clean out. While she tells me that she did leave a good number of bags behind, I find it difficult to believe when we now have enough bags that we could use them to construct a makeshift shelter if we happen to get stranded or maybe we could twist them together to make a tow rope.
The weather closes in on us.
The shopping strip in the centre of town consists of a handful of shops. Literally, there are 5 shops, although between them they seem to cover any eventuality. The news agency for instance also doubles as a post office, bank, drapery, gift shop, fishing tackle and camping equipment store, while also being the visitor information centre for the surrounding area. While we didn’t go into the supermarket, judging by the signage out the front, it stocks a similarly eclectic mixture of products. And with the liquor store enticingly named ‘Lynne’s Licka’, I pondered whether some sort of code had been employed, known only to the locals, for special services that are provided in a darkened back room, but decided I’d rather not know. I highly doubt it though, so if you’re ever out this way, don’t be waltzing in to see Lynne, with a grin on your face, a pocket full of cash and an opening line of: “Well, Marcus said…”
The Cervantes shopping centre.
The dogs were getting a bit restless by this stage, for the most part of the day having been restrained securely in the back seat of ‘The Beast’. So it was now their turn for an outing, as we shuffled into a car park by the raging ocean, kicked off our boots, rolled up the jeans and ran out onto the sand, dancing among the gluggy clumps of dank seaweed. Both Alvin and Bethany pranced along the beach proudly, running to and fro between the piles of weed, eagerly smelling at what was on offer, before we trundled back to the van, taking a winding tour of the town on the way.
Seaweed art.
Until next time, stay safe, have fun and don’t forget to write.
Our Aussie Adventures 