And On The Seventh Day…

…we worked out little butts off!

I’ve already had a week off from work, ostensibly to prepare and pack both ‘The Beast’ and the ‘Tin Can’. I’d managed to get through a fair bit of it, but there was still a lot more than I had expected, yet to be done.

Bec, not being quite so lucky had finished up only yesterday, arriving home elated, but suffering from the onset of a cold. That fails to bode well for her.

Thus today was the sole chance that we had to strike off a myriad of last minute items from our agenda, a list which if I wasn’t mistaken, seemed to get longer as the day got shorter. It started off with a quick jaunt down to the shops, hunting for a new pair of shoes for Bec after she found her favourite pair in dire need of fixing or throwing out, and a bottle of special chemical for the loo in the caravan to stop it from smelling well, like a loo.

Back on home soil, we took it in turns within the cramped confines of the van to unload the bulk of our closets into the dimiuitive storage cupboards. I’m not 100% sure, but I might just be able to go the whole trip without washing. My clothes that is! I know I’ll personally need washing more often than that.

The fridge and freezer presented similar issues as we fought to wedge foodstuffs in at oblique angles just to allow for the shutting of the doors. I realise now why the doors have little clips on them. It’s to keep them shut without needing to resort to a bit of 2X4 chocked against the opposite wall.

It was after 5:30 by the time we had the bulk of our chores done and Bec reminded me that we had a party to go to. Oh, boy I had just about forgotten our surprise going away party. At least that was what I read into the explanation of it being for a ‘friends birthday’. Sure. What coincidental timing. Whatever the case, with nary a moment to waste, I changed into the best clobber I had that wasn’t already packed tight into the van. As it happened, it turned out that it was in fact a ‘friends birthday dinner’! I guess it was surprise in some respects then. At least it was for me! On the other hand, Happy Birthday Simone!

Truth be told, we did actually delay our trip by a day so that we could be home for the birthday. It seems that we tend to travel at this time of year, every year, and I have lost count of the number of times we have been gallivanting around the globe instead of spending time with those nearest and dearest to us. This year was not to be one of those years.

Following a delightful meal, in good company at a local Thai joint, it was a last minute mad dash about the house to make sure all that could be done tonight, was done tonight. That still leaves a few items to be crossed off our list before we finally depart tomorrow morning, but at last, although excitement reins and I know that sleep will be hard to come by, it was time for some much needed rest.

He even sleeps with that bloody thing on.

So, in closing for tonight, it is tomorrow that is ‘D-Day’ for our upcoming adventure, as we hit the road and head for parts unknown. As I said, I’ll post a running commentary as time and internet availability allow, so feel free to log in and have a gander at what we’re up to or hit the “follow” button on the home page to have all of my ‘ramblings’ dumped into the in-box of your chosen e-mail account, the moment I post them.

A don’t forget, I really did mean it when I said that I can be reached at marcus@myramblingtales.com or by just leaving a note on the web site. I’ll read and reply to all comers as best I can.

And finally, I’ve just got to say that “Marcus chooses to wear AkLogoCol~153~72 hats”. And if you click on the logo enough times, maybe I can get a sponsor ship deal (or an intervention order for stalking. Either or would be cool!)!!!

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

Posted in Everything, Pre-Trip, Ripping Red | 4 Comments

Here We Go Again!!!

 

On this day (14th of June) 2 years ago, we were about two months into our six month ‘trip of a lifetime’, enjoying the sights, smells, sounds and especially the weather, at that time, of tropical Darwin. Since having returned from what I have come to describe to all and sundry who risk to ask, as the best and worst thing we’ve ever done (best because we had an absolute ball doing it and worst because at the conclusion we both had to go back to work to pay for it all), it wasn’t long before we were yet again yearning for the freedom of the open road. Despite that, we have only once managed to hook the tin can up to ‘The Beast’ for a quick weekend jaunt down to Indented Head, a mere hour or so from home. It was just the reminder we needed though, that we really needed to take another little journey, a little bit further afield than what essentially amounted to camping in our own back yard.

 

So plans were put into place to do just that. Sadly, unlike our last odyssey, which saw us spending 6 months circumnavigating this great country of ours, time is somewhat in short supply this time round. Thus, with only a little over 5 weeks available to us, we needed to carefully plan an itinerary that would take us somewhere just a little warmer than what we are experiencing in Melbourne at the moment, while getting to immerse ourselves into the culture that is outback Australia. While the plan has been carefully laid out over the last couple of months, and it was just today that I managed to convince good friends of ours to lend us their van for a little bit of much needed towing practice (well I wasn’t going to risk pre-game injury to our own highway Hilton), it is Sunday that we are due to gleefully embark on our next mini-odyssey. Naturally, along with Bec and myself, as well as ‘The Beast and the 21 foot tin can, our two little 4 legged friends, Alvin and Bethany will again be joining us for the adventure. They’re getting on in age a bit now, slowing down considerably and considering the troubles we had prior to the big trip when we told that Bethany would be lucky to be with us until we got home, as well as a health scare for Alvin last year that saw him undergo emergency surgery to remove his spleen, we are looking forward to spending some more quality time with them.

 

'The Beast' & the tin can get reacquainted

‘The Beast’ & the tin can get reacquainted

 

Whilst the cat is out of the bag as to where we are heading for those in the know, for everyone else, you will have to log in and keep an eye on ‘My Ramblings’ to see where we end up. As opposed to the big lap, where I dutifully keep all of my readers updated on a day-by-day basis, I’m not even going to promise you the daily drudgery of wading through 1000 or more words of long-winded diatribe about the minutiae of our daily life as we wend our way north, bound for warmer climes. Instead, when I get a chance, I’ll throw a couple of words down, add in a few happy snaps and send it out onto the web for all to enjoy.

 

Don’t forget, I can be reached at marcus@myramblingtales.com, or just leave a note on the web site. I’ll read and reply to all comers as best I can.

 

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

 

Posted in Breaking News, Pre-Trip, Ripping Red | 4 Comments

2 Weeks Back: The Dream Is Over.

I had grand plans for this, what will most likely be my final Aussie Odyssey blog post. It was the final countdown this week you see, before I had to submit myself to the unenviable responsibility of fronting up at work. Bec had made the inevitable return to work last Monday and now today, it was to be my turn. I had hoped that, as you all sat down to coffee and toast for breakfast, you would also have been able to log onto the Internet and be regaled with tales of my final week of holidays. I would, I had envisaged, already be intent on finding the bottom of my own cup of coffee, maybe even my second, nose to the grindstone, hard at work by this stage. Well, okay, maybe not exactly hard at work, but assuredly back in the office and getting ready to perform miracles at the coalface.

Work however got in the way and thus my timeframe conspired to drive a wedge into my plans, throw a spanner in the works so to speak, as I struggled to arise after a terrible nights sleep. Had I not awoken with something of a start to the crescendo that is my alarm, I might have even said I didn’t sleep a wink all night. Therefore, instead of being able to peruse my thoughts for the week over your morning cuppa, it will instead have to be relegated to after dinner reading, or at this rate maybe evening scrutiny over breakfast on Tuesday morning. For this I apologise, although it will allow me to detail all the fun and excitement that was my first day back at work.

As a result of this imminent return to the workforce, my week has been a mixture of anxiety, dread and denial. It seems now so long ago that I wrote those fateful words about my saddening exodus from the office. Was it really only six months ago? Because it certainly feels like a lifetime ago. So much has transpired in the intervening time, that I no longer feel defined by my work and yet here I am returning to the drudgery. It was of course inexorable as we had found no way of making life on the road pay for itself, so our return to work becomes a necessary means to an end. Without work, there would be no money. Without money, there would be no more travel. Without travel, there would be no more rambling tales with which to warrant mystifying depiction upon these very pages.

On that note, have no fear, because further trips are in the making as we speak. My little nook of a study that I have nicknamed ‘The War Room’ has been a thriving hive of activity almost since the moment of our return, as I investigate boundless possibilities for our next trip. Like a mother hen tending her eggs, I have been busy hatching plans and ideas for all manner of future holidays. I am not just limiting the prospects to overland tours by ‘Beast’ and caravan, but exploring every avenue I can. I do this you must understand, not out of a personal desire to see all that Australia and the world has to offer, but in an entirely unselfish pursuit to bring the story of these same sights back to those at home via my inane rambling. And herein lies the one possibility that I have found to fund our travels. I jotted down some calculations the other night on a scrap of paper. As it turns out, if I can entice just 360 people to pledge the miserly sum of $5.00 per person per week, Bec and I could become professional travellers. I have even already started to sign people up, so now only need a further 358 supporters. Ahh, my eyes are misting over just thinking about it.

My fanciful scheme seems destined for failure however, so I therefore must return to work. 8:00AM on the dot, my day began in a fashion that suggested that I was the only one in the office that possessed the innate realisation that I had been away for more than half of the year. There was a quick welcome back from the boss, before I was seated in the same old chair, at the same old desk, in front of the same old computer that was still as slow and troublesome as what it had been when I left it six months ago. Before I knew it, I had bulk deleted thousands of emails and was right back to where I started from, looking at the computer screen, wishing with all of my might that the glassy reflections were coming from the crystal clear water of a deserted beach on a warm summers day somewhere up in the north west corner of Western Australia instead of, as they were, from the flickering computer monitor. Even the congenial office banter of which I would normally be enthralled was relegated to a background thrum of indecipherable words as my mind drifted off to my happy place. Oh, happy place, where art thou, happy place.

So there you have it, the holiday is most certainly at an end. As a result, todays blog will be the final in this series. I will be taking a brief hiatus, a vacation if you will, from the fun and excitement of bringing to you, my readers, the minutiae of our daily lives. During this time, I will be busy working on several projects, one of which is a reworking of the ‘myramblingtales’ website. I don’t know yet what I will do to reinvigorate it, but rest assured, whatever I decide, it will be fun, upbeat and sure to be lots of laughs. I am expecting that towards the end of this year or the very start of next, I will be beaming to you live from somewhere in this great country of ours, with plenty of new stories.

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

Posted in Post-Trip, The Epic Journey | 4 Comments

1 Week Back: All Good Things Must Come To An End.

Wow, what a whirlwind this week has been. From the moment we rolled ‘The Beast’ up the driveway and began the tedium of unpacking, it feels as if we haven’t stopped. From a constant stream of visitors, well wishers and dinner invitations that would rival our pre-trip schedule to the unenviable task of sorting through the mammoth piles of gear that was withdrawn from the almost forgotten about corners of the van all of which was unceremoniously dumped on the floor inside the house. Where does one start?

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The unloading begins.

For the first couple of days we felt lost in our own house. Such is the bother of walking from one end of the house to the other for every little thing. I remember writing before we left that I was concerned how we would cope with having everything so near at hand in the compact confines of the caravan. Well, now that we are back, agoraphobia is a more pressing concern. There has been discussion of fitting our bedroom out with a little fridge so that cold drinks can be kept close by, while Bec is still in the process of re-educating herself as to the number of steps she needs to take in the dark to go from the bed to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

Then there was my newly discovered evening free time. I have for the past six months devoted about 2 hours a night to putting my thoughts out there into the blogosphere for everyone to comment on. Home now, and relegating the blog to a weekly effort, I was lost for things to do as my fingers twitched about, itchy to be dancing across the keyboard once more.

I have learned other things too. Namely, when walking the dogs one sunny evening during the week, I called out a genial “hello” to a couple walking in the other direction. I was instantly reminded that we were back in Melbourne, in the middle of the ‘big smoke’, where random acts of conversation are at best regarded with suspicion. You would have thought I had two heads from the tightly clipped “hello” I got back in reply, accompanied by a seething stare.

It also took us less than a week to be reintegrated with the attitude of Melbourne drivers. As we cruised across town in ‘The Beast’, I felt more stress and anxiety on the road than I had during the entire trip. Having circuited the whole of Australia, I can honestly say that the driving skills in Melbourne are by far the worst in the country. A general lack of skill, combined with a couldn’t give a damn (which I have tamed down from my original comment, for publication), blasé attitude, it wonders me not that there is so much angst on the roads.

The week ended on a high note though, with us enjoying a night out on Friday, getting to see John Williamson performing live. He is the embodiment of the quintessential Aussie showman and storyteller, the stories in his ditties all the more personal for us, as it felt as though he was singing us through the trip we have just enjoyed.

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John Williamson and Bec. What a way to end our trip.

Friday night was backed up come Saturday, when the ‘Darwin Six’ of Liz, Greg, David, Heather, Bec and I were reunited at the behest of David and Heather, with a deliciously home cooked meal at their house. The meal felt never ending as plate after plate of food was brought to the table, while conversation centered around past and future travel plans and somewhat strangely a pram fit for a dog. Naturally, the laughs came long and hard, leaving us in stitches and with pained abdominal muscles the following day.

It was well after 1:00AM by the time we bid everyone goodnight, already late considering Becs need to be up early for a breakfast date with a mate. The night got later though when we arrived home to find that our house keys had absconded and not made the return journey with us. I was in no fit state to drive after wetting my lips with a bottle and a bit of the red stuff, so it was left to Bec to drive us back to collect the keys. It was well after 2:00AM by the time we were eventually readmitted to the house, not leaving Bec much time to sleep before spending Sunday, her final day of freedom before having to return to the drudgery of work on Monday morning, going out to breakfast, then entertaining more friends during the afternoon, only for us to have to rush out for another dinner date. This time, it was off to dine with my grandmother, where another delectable home cooked feast of vast proportions awaited us, as we again happily recounted what we could remember of our adventure.

From all of this, the overwhelming majority of people we speak to ask us the same 2 questions: Where was your favourite place? And was there anywhere you didn’t like?

The second question is easy to give answer to as both Bec and I agree that it was our time in Busselton. Now, that is not a fair assessment of Busselton though, because we have been there before and loved it. That was the main reason that we returned. However, on this journey a combination of factors led to us finding this period of the trip miserable. You may remember, the weather we had while there was dismal, turning the caravan park into a quagmire. In turn, the dogs weren’t well and their constant need to go outside to paint ugly brown stains on the already putridly wet ground made it impossible to keep the inside of the van clean. Visiting the beautiful beaches we had come to see was not even discussed as the weather descended in a sodden pall across the entire landscape. It was in Busselton, after already completing something like 5 months on the road that we almost said “that’s it, we’ve had enough, lets go home.” We didn’t though and persevered with the weather to make the most of what we had, still managing to enjoy a pleasant day touring the Margaret River Wine Region and catching up with family.

More difficult to answer is the question about where we most liked on the trip. There didn’t seem to be any one place that wasn’t in the running for this crown as everywhere we went seemed to have a little gem that lives on in our memories as a highlight. Even Busselton. If pressed though, we can make a shortlist, which is heavily weighted towards Western Australia, maybe because these are some of our freshest memories. The mere mention of towns like Broome, Exmouth and Kalgoorlie evoke an almost instantaneous reaction in us. A slight quickening of the heart rate, a build up of saliva and dreamy glazed eyes seem to be the usual symptoms. Overall though, after much thought and debate we can’t narrow our favourite part of the odyssey down to one particular town, although in an effort to placate those that ask, we now prattle on ad nauseum about the trek between Katherine in the Northern Territory and Broome in Western Australia. A trek that saw us traversing some of the most spectacular scenery Australia has to offer and a trek I could happily repeat again and again and again.

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

Posted in Everything, Post-Trip | 3 Comments

Day 182: Six Months On The Road And We’re Gonna Be Home Tonight.

Alright everyone, hang in there, as we embark on our final day of travel. The final day of our epic journey which has seen us tour to the edges of Australia, to places many Australians, let alone international tourists can only dream about, see on dodgy documentaries or read about in even dodgier travel blogs (such as this one). I hope you have enjoyed coming along for the ride as much as I have enjoyed bringing you along though, so fasten your seatbelts for our final blast, Bacchus Marsh to the western suburbs of Melbourne as we bring the Marcus and Rebecca Roadshow back home to Altona Meadows.

Rather than treat the day as a finale, we instead played it out as if it was just another day in our grand extravaganza, waking up to the scream of the alarm clock at the unholy hour of 7:15AM, to find sharp crystalline icicles clinging to our faces. The temperature had plummeted overnight to a level we haven’t experienced for some time. In an effort to keep warm, we both huddled around the gas hob as I first thawed, then boiled a billy of water for my morning coffee. Just to give you some idea of how cold it was, even my Akubra was eschewed this morning in favour of a thick woolen beanie that hasn’t seen the light of day since I last thought it was a bright idea to get up to take photos of the sun rising over the Great Australian Bight.

There was a method behind our madness however, as the winter woolies were dragged from the deepest recesses of our clothing lockers. I had booked ‘The Beast’ in to be given a post trip once over by a mechanic we know in Bacchus Marsh. In order to still get home at a reasonable hour, ‘The Beast’ needed to be at the shop by 8:00AM. Thankfully, there was no need for me to be concerned with how I was to be getting back to the van after having dropped ‘The Beast’ off, as the friends we had stayed with were the very same friends who had been kindly minding Becs car while we were away.

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Bec gets reacquainted with the cozy confines of ‘Betsy’.

At 7:55AM, we travelled out in convoy, ‘The Beast’ following behind a rather diminutive looking little Volkswagen as we headed for the workshop. It was only a five minute drive down the road, where we dropped the keys off, then quickly headed back to the relative warmth of the van. At least back at the van we could clamber back beneath the doona, then using the dogs as blankets, watch a bit of tele. Our reverie was disrupted only half an hour later with a call from the mechanic to say that the one filter that I had forgotten to drop off, was the one filter that really needed changing.

So dressed again we got, before charging off down the street again. With the filter delivered, we decided to make the most of our time, by taking a look around the town of Bacchus Marsh. By that, one might guess that it means we went shopping. Up and down the main street we trundled, finding a few interesting stores along the way in which to browse, before returning hungrily to the van.

Bec suggested cooking up our Sunday staple of bacon and eggs, but I was concerned that we would be interrupted by a call to say that ‘The Beast’ was ready. Instead, toast was proposed, until we remembered that we weren’t plugged into mains power, so weren’t able to use the toaster, while the gas grill seemed like too much effort. Another rifle through the meager supplies we have left, uncovered nothing else, other than a scant few chocolates left over from the box David and Heather had brought around for us in Robe. Well, they ended up sufficing for breakfast, as we huddled beneath the covers, in bed once more for another go at watching some TV.

Naturally, we never did get to finish watching the show that we started, when the phone rang to give us the news. ‘The Beast’ is in tiptop shape and was waiting to be collected. From that moment, it was a flurry of activity as we rushed to gather ‘The Beast’, return to the van, pack up and mate the caravan to ‘The Beast’ for one final hoorah into Melbourne.

Of course, there were stumbling blocks put in our way, as the rain again came tumbling down the moment it was decided that it was time to pack the satellite dish away and maneuver the tow ball beneath the socket on the van. It was slow, deep rain too, the kind that no matter how short a time you spend in its damp embrace, you end up soaked through to the bone. It was actually quite fitting.

At 12:56PM, we rolled through the gate of our friends place, me and the dogs enshrined in ‘The Beast’, with Bec following along behind in her car. It felt strange to be guiding the rig down the highway without my co-pilot by my side, but we maintained a cheery conversation over the airwaves as we motored through the rain induced grey haze, the density of the traffic building as ‘Shazza’ counted down the final kilometres to home.

Only minutes from home, the heavens unleashed a final torrent of rain upon us. A kind of welcome home if you will, that appeared as if someone was throwing hulking great buckets of water across the windshield, as the wipers wove a rapid stanza across the smeared glass. It slowed us naught as we battled the last few kilometres along strangely familiar roads, rolling up the driveway of the home we left what feels like so long ago at 1:40PM. That makes it exactly 181 days and 3 hours that we have been touring and to be honest, I would be quite happy to leave tomorrow to do it all over again. That is apparently an option we don’t have the luxury of however.

We were greeted upon our arrival by a giant banner announcing our return that spanned the width of the house and was adorned with a selection of our holiday photos and charts. Also hiding in the garage to welcome us was my parents, although they didn’t make themselves known until after we nearly reversed the caravan through the garage wall.

Six months we’ve been on the road, and Bec picks today, in the pouring rain to use hand signals instead of a radio to guide me into our final resting place. As it turned out, through rain blurred mirrors, from nearly 20 metres distant, her unrehearsed hand signal for stop, looks an awful lot like her signal for keep coming. Tragedy was averted by mere millimetres as the back of the caravan nearly kissed the garage wall and the water tank. Now that would have been a way to go out with a bang.

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Home Sweet Home.

The rest of the afternoon was spent with the folks, inveigling them to aid with the tedious task of unpacking the van, a chore that will continue no doubt across the next few days at least, despite their gracious assistance this afternoon. We then sat down for a drink, when I mentioned that like after every holiday we take, I would read to them my daily journal entries. Strangely enough, they quickly took their leave, citing something along the lines of maybe having left the iron on at home.

It has indeed been a long haul though, not only for us, but all of my loyal readers out there. I know that there are some of you who have suffered through each and every daily entry, while there are others who have just dropped by every now and then for an update and to make sure that we are still amongst the breathing. Whatever group you belong to, thanks for reading, but stay tuned. The time has well and truly come to cease my incessant daily rambling, in favour of some weekly posts. I’m not too sure if you’ll enjoy it, but I am envisioning that it will at least be cathartic for myself to provide an epilogue to our trip, along with some of the more pertinent statistics and interesting facts. Tune in next Monday for the first of my new weekly blog posts.

Lastly for tonight, I know everyone has been waiting with baited breath for it, so I had better not hold out any longer. The announcement of the winner in the ‘Kilometre Challenge’. When we left home in April, the odometer on ‘The Beast’ read 15477Km. Upon pulling up today and finishing our circumnavigation of Australia the odometer now indicates 38645Km which means that we travelled a grand total of 23168Km on our journey. Therefore, with an entry submitted on the 30th of July, with a guess of 23210Km, the grand prizewinner is (insert drum roll here): Margaret. Congratulations Margaret, you’ll receive an email shortly with details of your prize and a huge thanks to everyone that took part.

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

Posted in Everything, The Epic Journey | Tagged , | 5 Comments