Our Aussie Adventures

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.

I conjecture that it would have been a beautiful sunny morning this morning, gauging by the climate when we eventually rolled from bed at a bit later than 10:00AM after a delightful and much needed sleep in.

The Flinders Ranges Rise Up From Port Augusta.

Our itinerary called for a rest day in Port Augusta today, ostensibly planned as the last decent sized town before heading further into the outback. That was to give us the opportunity to stock up on supplies and as it has turned out, to make repairs. There was also the ‘Australia Arid Lands Botanic Garden’, which Bec is again eager to have stroll around.

Before I could take Bec down to the gardens, we had a bit of housekeeping to take care of, Bec eyeing off a load of laundry as I shot into town to reclaim the caravan wheel, hopefully resplendent in a brand spanking new boot.

The tyre was ready as promised, so it was straight back to the van for me then, where we chowed down on some roast chicken sandwiches for lunch. They were infinitely better than the diet of greasy fast food we have been subsisting on for the last few days worth of midday meals.

With the washing done, and strung out haphazardly throughout the van in the hope that it will dry before we depart in the morning, Bec dressed warmly for her long awaited excursion to the ‘Australia Arid Land Botanic Garden’. We’ve been before, so I wasn’t overly interested in partaking yet again, so I had promised that I would drop Bec off so that she could enjoy them at her leisure, without me dragging my feet along behind, moaning and groaning the entire time while wishing it was all over.

As Bec packed the few things that she needed into ‘The Beast’, I gave the dogs a chance of a wander about the caravan park, only to find as I hoisted Bethany into the back of ‘The Beast’, she had managed to stand in some sort of viscous, gelatinous resin, which at first scrutiny appeared to be some discarded bubblegum, but which turned out as best as we could decipher, to be a glutinous wad of tree sap matted with the utmost of stubbornness, in the hair of not one, but both of her front paws. It was another half an hour, a tub of hot soapy water and a soak in Eucalyptus oil before we had managed to dissolve the offending substance from within the folds of Bethanys front paw pads. Admittedly, I will be a happy camper if that turns out to be the worst of our calamities for the day. Finally, much to Becs chagrin, I was able to convey her to the gardens.

While she meandered about the gardens, I returned to the caravan park where I set about completing a few more much needed chores, such as acquainting the new tyre with the van and eradicating a hefty volume of sand from within the van. With the sandy ground upon which we are parked, it is an impossible feat to prevent the dogs, or ourselves for that matter, from dragging the delicate grains of silica in upon our feet each and every time we venture out.

It was a good few hours later that Bec called to say that she was ready to be collected. She excitedly told me when I got there, how she had taken the 2km walk around the gardens, although thinks she would have walked a good deal further than that, having taken a few wrong turns here and there. Sadly, it is the wrong time of year to view the range of flora that is on display here, with few if any flowers in bloom at the present time. The warmer months would be a much better proposition.

Bec At The Gardens.

Enjoying The View.

Flowers Be Gone.

The Famous Stuarts Desert Pea.

FLORA

FAUNA

Direct from the gardens, we drove back into town, to partake in a little last minute shopping, picking up a few odds and sods that we had realized over the last few days that we had forgotten to pack as well as beginning my collection of stubby holders for this trip. We were also able to collect our thankfully freshly laundered and decontaminated underlay from the dry cleaners before making haste for the van.

Once back at the van, we stripped the bed bare yet again, so as to once more don the thick underlay, as well as a newly purchased waterproof mattress protector. We have decided to take no more chances when leaving the dogs alone in the van.

Following a home, or should that read ‘caravan’, cooked dinner of the most magnificently generous proportions, we kicked back to relax in front of the television for just a tad of mind numbing diversion, whilst discussing what needed to be done in the morning before putting Port Augusta behind us as the journey sees us continue northward towards our next destination. Lolled almost to a slumber by the warmth spirited forth from the heater, which we had set to as close to ‘incinerate’ as possible in a mad, last ditch attempt to dry our still damp laundry, it was nearing midnight before we knew it. With an early start ahead of us tomorrow morning, I ditched any notion of completing and posting my blog for the day, deciding instead to put if off until I had the luxury of more time and a less lethargic frame of mind. And here I bet you were all sitting at home last night in front of your computers, tablets or phones thinking, “that’s it. Another catastrophe has struck and he’s given it up.” Well nothing could be further from the truth, because despite the few early set backs, we are settling nicely into the grove now, Alvin and Bethany included, and really are having a great time of it. Good tidings hardly seem to produce as mesmerizing a missive as the bad though.

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

We drifted off to sleep rather early last night to the omnipresent patter of raindrops thumping rhythmically against the tin cladding of the van. It is an almost hypnotizing sound, although we had hoped to escape the cold and rain of Melbourne, only to thus far have been greeted with more of the same.

It was then an early morning, as we strove to leave the campground by just after 8:00AM. Our initial plan had been to have a sleep in and then head off at our leisure, knowing full well that we have a pre-booked patch of dirt in a Port Augusta caravan park set aside for us. Yesterdays little accident by one of the pooches saw us decide to make for Port Augusta a whole lot earlier, in a mad dash to drop our woolen underlay off at the towns only dry cleaner in the vain hope of it being cleaned before we are due to continue on our travels.

Five kays of dirt road brought us out onto the main highway, where we nudged the rig up to speed and settled in for the two and a bit hour drive to the town that sits atop the Spencer Gulf. With little traffic about, it was an easy drive, until I heard a call over the UHF radio from a truck we had not long overtaken. The news was not good as the Good Samaritan informed us that a tyre had blown out on the van. Apart from Bec hearing an odd noise, there was no other indication of the impediment, the van still pulling as straight as an arrow.

I pulled to the side of the road, perching precariously on the soft shoulder, thankful that I had just yesterday confirmed that the jack I have for years been carrying in the van is actually competent at hefting the ‘tin can’ far enough into the air to change a tyre. Getting out to survey the damage, I found the front tyre on the drivers side of the van looked a little worse for ware. That is to say, there were barely two narrow rings of rubber preventing the rim from gouging divets into the road surface, the edges of what was left of the rubber shredded to wispy tassels. An inspection of the undercarriage showed that we had gotten off lucky, with no other obvious damage.

Shredded.

All Jacked Up.

Off With The Old.

On With The New.

About Ready To Hit The Road.

Whilst it wasn’t an overly difficult task to swap out the old tyre for the spare, it was a job that necessitated emptying the contents of both the caravan boot and the back of ‘The Beast’ in order to get access to the required tools to complete the task, all the while keeping a close eye on the cars and trucks barreling past at close quarters.

Losing about three quarters of an hour to the repairs, we sidled gingerly back onto the blacktop, wary that we still had a bit over an hour before reaching Port Augusta with no further spare tyre should another unforeseen calamity strike. Safe and sound we made it however, pulling into the first tyre joint we seen on the way into town. We pick up the wheel tomorrow, shod in a brand new shoe, all for the princely sum of a hundred and sixty bucks. Probably a bit more than I would have liked to have paid, but with no time to go shopping around, I had little other choice.

Our next stop was the dry cleaners, where a further bit of good news was dispensed, with the kindly gentleman behind the counter telling us he would rush the underlay through, allowing us to pick it up tomorrow afternoon. That will enable us to keep motoring on, right on schedule.

Pulling into the caravan park at 10 minutes past the lunching hour, I was crestfallen to find that our booking was not in the system. A check under my name and Becs failed to locate any record of us ringing to make the booking. I was about to go into melt down mode when I was told by the young girl behind the counter that it hardly mattered any. Sites were aplenty, and we could pretty much have our choice. Thus, an easy to maneuver onto drive through site was selected to be our resting spot for the next couple of nights.

Drive through or not, we still made a hash of getting the van lined up to my satisfaction, mainly because of the trees overhanging the site to some extent. But get it all lined up we did, without even the need for any ramps to level us out. I was impressed, given that the ground consisted of rain sodden sandy loam that the dogs are going to relish dragging throughout the van on their paws with each outdoor excursion.

Dragging out hoses, power cords and an assortment of other accouterments, we busied ourselves in setting up our home away from home, only to find a fresh gouge in the tin siding of the van. Having come not even close to colliding with anything, I was at a lose to explain the ugly dimple, until I noticed a ghastly black smear in close proximity that could only be flakes of shredded, melted rubber. It suddenly dawned on me that the tyre carcass had obviously been thrown high, impacting the van on its way into the great big blue beyond, causing the damage. My own melt down and explosion was swift. But fear none, I am over it now and the show must go on.

While I continued setting up the van, pulling out the awning and checking over ‘The Beast’, Bec busied herself within ‘the tin can’, giving it a much needed spruce up. She has been amazing, continuing to battle what she is calling a bout of the dreaded ‘man flu’, while still managing to keep a sense of humour about our string of misfortunes.

The remainder of the afternoon was occupied by a trip into town to buy some much needed supplies, before we headed back to the van as the warm sun gave way to an ominously dark sky and another dampening downpour.

Then, as Bec took a late afternoon nap, I cracked open the first of possibly many tinnies, drowned my sorrows and relegated my pains for all to read (and laugh at).

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

It was a chilly night last night, with Bec curled up under a pile of blankets while I sat spilling the beans on our days activities. She wasn’t overly happy when I reminded her as I slipped beneath the covers that since the generator was still chugging away, she could have been luxuriating in the same glorious warmth I was about to enjoy by turning my electric blanket on! We ended up so hot that we were soon kicking the covers off.

Sadly, we couldn’t leave the generator on all night, as it would have petered out before morning due to a lack of fuel, but it was nice while it lasted. Surrounded by the golden silence once we switched the generator off, with just the occasional truck thundering by to annoy us, we were both soon enough feeling the chill again, while the blankets made a welcome return.

We were woken early by the pitter patter of rain gently falling upon the roof and little feet running up and down the van, Bethany needing to go out to relieve herself. Despite the allure of watching what looked to be a magnificent sunrise, a vivid pink just starting to peek out over the top of the trees, it was back to bed then, shivering cold, for an hour or so before the alarm was due to sound. When it did, we jumped up to get ourselves ready for the relatively short drive into Adelaide. Still icy cold, we made good time if for no other reason than to be able to get up into the warmth of ‘The Beast’.

The Morning View Out Of Our Kitchen Window.

It was only 9:30AM when we wheeled out of our little camping spot and took the road west towards Adelaide. We had an appointment to keep at the Adelaide Showgrounds where the annual R.M. Williams factory outlet sale was in full swing. My plan was to see if we could score a car park nearby, remembering that we would still be tugging the van along behind. If no suitable space for our 14 something metres was to be found, then we would check into a caravan park for the night, drop the van and make our way back to the sale. As you can imagine, this was to be the first highlight of our trip. We just had to get there first.

This was easier said than done as we hunkered down and put pedal to metal to zoom up and down through the Adelaide Hills at pretty close to the speed limit. I did notice that the needle on the fuel gauge was dropping at a rate quicker than I would have liked or expected, It was enough that I was worried that a brake or wheel bearing on the van might be dragging. I decided to throw caution to the wind however and strive for the mighty R.M. Williams sale first. I would sort the van out after that.

Arriving on the outskirts of Adelaide, we wove our way through the suburbs to the showgrounds. Turning into the entry road, I decided to do a drive by first, to see what parking was available. Bad mistake, as ‘Shazza’ failed to highlight that the tiny little street I had just turned onto was a no through road. At the end of the diminutive little avenue, I was faced with the ominous choice of reversing back out around the 90^o bend or making an illegal maneuver to exit against the one-way sign. Illegal or not, there really was no other option, so with a swift tickle of my right foot on the accelerator, ‘The Beast’, followed by a bouncing tin can surged out into the un-expecting traffic.

It was then a bit of an effort to find our way back to the entrance of the car park, but at least I had been able to confirm that there was ample parking space for our rig, caravan and all.

Let Me At It!

The R.M. Williams sale itself was being held in one of the sprawling sheds of the showgrounds, although many of the tables were already gloomily bereft of wares. Despite the early signs, we were soon manhandling armfuls of goods back and forth to the fitting rooms and before we knew it we had blown much of the budget for the entire trip. And surprisingly, Bec spent more than I did! As a bonus though, free parking was included with any purchase, so it turned out to be a respectable choice to park onsite.

Back at the van, I spent the better part of the next hour emptying the boot to get access to the jack, winding up each side of the van in turn to check the brakes and wheel bearings. I was unable to identify any issues, so the unexpectedly excessive fuel use remains an unsolved mystery.

Having squandered away close to three hours already, it was time to make a beeline for a nearby petrol station for more go-go juice for ‘The Beast’ and another gutful of insipid fast food for Bec and I. Fueling up ‘The Beast’, the generator and a small jerry can of unleaded for the generator drew the ire of one impatient witch who had the misfortune to pull in behind us, although as far as I could see, there were still a half dozen other bowsers she could have headed for, and I’m pretty sure I couldn’t see her name on the ones we were currently emptying.

Back on the road proper, we then only had to navigate our way through the centre of Adelaide, popping out on the other side and heading for tonights camp spot right on the beach in the small township of Parham, barely an hours drive out of Adelaide. That will put us in good stead to reach our next stop tomorrow.

Despite the low number of kilometres added to the odometer tally today, it still felt like a pretty full on day, and we were glad to be pulling in for the night by about 4:00PM. Being right near the beach, albeit a beach covered in piles of stringy, dry and crunchy seaweed, we took the babies for a quick walk along the limited patches of sand we could find for them. It is Alvins birthday today after all, and at this point in time we were still happy with them.

The Whole Gang On The Beach.

That was all about to change though, when Bec decided to have an afternoon nap, only to find an extensive puddle of what could only be dog pee all over the bed. It had obviously been steeping and seeping through the bedding since we had left Adelaide, and had by now successfully soaked through every single layer of bedding. Spare sheets and doona covers we came prepared with, but as for a mattress protector and a rather expensive, dry-clean only woolen underlay, we were left sorely wanting.

It was a somber mood as we struggled to change the bedding, before hoisting the sodden mess that was the soiled bedclothes into the back of ‘The Beast’ for dealing with hopefully tomorrow when we are at least due to check into a caravan park for a couple of nights.

Naturally our ire couldn’t last too long, as both of the babies looked at us with big bold puppy dog eyes, almost as if to say: “If you hadn’t left us in the van for hours, we wouldn’t have pissed on your bed”. So with the little ones almost forgiven, I must now go and get Alvins birthday dinner ready, before we sing him ‘Happy Birthday’.

By the way, I have decided that since hasn’t come to the party, yet, I will try for an agreement with R.M. Williams. You know the deal, click as many times as you can on the logo, to let them know that I love them!!!

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