Our Australia trip

Well, we slept good. After a noisy evening from the surrounding caravans, we had an actually very restful sleep. Nevertheless we were not regretful to pack up and leave early. We had our mind set on Hydeaway Bay and Dingo Beach. The GPS tried its trick again and almost succeeded. It wanted us to continue straight (purple line) where the road ended in a cul-de-sac.

We tried to buy some food at the Woollies at Bowen but found that it was closed on Sundays. That decided it and soon we left Bowen, which has a strange access road. It is very messy with unkempt properties, muddy roadsides and industrial properties. Then the town itself is not too bad. Well, enough of that. Dotti felt that it was time she sat up front with Marjo and just pushed Nossi aside.

Then we drove back to Proserpine to do the shopping. When we left we passed a garage and reversed back to it (I’m getting pretty handy at that) and asked if they could have a look at the gearbox oil. I didn’t like the sound of it (the gearbox that is). It was all fine though and since then we’ve worked out it is the engine making some sound at a certain speed. Something to keep an ear out for. Marjo will say it was her that picked that up,but of course that is just nonsense. We then drove onto Hydeaway Bay Caravan park, parked and setup the bus and went to the beach. The beaches in North Queensland seem to have tides that expose large parts of the beach. At high tide this gives a long ocean floor that prevents high waves and allows you to stand for hundreds of meters offshore and at low tide it exposes the coral, rocks and shells. A smorgasbord for Marjo. Also the dogs loved this as it leaves large pools to wade or run through. Nossi had his zoomies and loved it there.

Dotti did aquarobics for her sore back leg.

Marjo did Fossicking, made beach art and had fun with Nossi and Dotti.

Axel did an attempt with kiteboarding but found the wind too little. Meaning that I could get it up, but had no staying power. They say that age has someone to do with it and that blue pills help, but for me it was just the lack of wind.

Marjo wanted to play with Nossi but again Dotti thought it was her turn.

So we just enjoyed the beach. We stayed for 3 nights at Hydeaway Bay, the place is really nice and the dogs loved it too and by the end of the day we all chilled out.

There were even roo’s on the camping ground.

Every evening we knew it was 6 pm because a group of King Cookoobaras let themselves hear loud and clear, the last evening just above the bus. They say that the birds make the racket every evening and morning at 6, we hope they find another tree in the morning.

The camping also had a communal campfire that we attended once, it is not so my thing to sing along to Neil Diamond and listen three times to the same story of how Sue had her friends from across the street in Hawthorn (Melbourne) come tomorrow at the same camping about 2,500 km north. She was clearly excited and I suspect also slowly developing dementia or had too many Bundy and coke.

The weather was a mix, the first day overcast, then a mix of sun and clouds with temperatures varying from 25 to 16 degrees. Still warm enough to explore the beach every day.

Strange day. It started with rain, again.
We packed up, Marjo made breakfast so I could get up a little later. Fed the dogs, had a shower. While Marjo prepared the inside, I packed away dog beds, chairs, table, rolled up and stowed the fly screens, packed away the tarp to avoid mud in front of the door, the mat and turned off the gas. Then a 3 minutes shower and we were on our way. Close to the amenities we emptied the toilet cassette and took new fresh water on board.
That job takes about 2 minutes and we kept the motor running to warm the diesel engine. This was a about 10 am. Soon a grey nomad came around the bus in evening gown, pyama’s and bed slippers and said “can you turn that off”. Marjo thought he was talking about the tap and she said “it’s almost done”. Then he made a gesture at the bus as if to say “I mean the engine you silly sod” and I said “we’re almost done and leave then”. Friendly crowd. Perhaps we disturbed him in some important pyama and bed slipper activities as his parting words were “people have to work here”.

The constant rain didn’t make it better. Our next stop is Bowen, I thought Marjo wanted to snorkel from the beach and horseshoe beach is the raved about location. The closest camping that returned my call and allows dog is Wangaratta, about 4 km from horseshoe bay.
We stopped at an information desk next to the Big Mango and Marjo got some local information, also about crocodiles. She read that crocs can run fast but if you’re reasonably fit you can outrun them in a straight line. Don’t zig-zag as the croc is smarter and will cut corners and get you.

To get fit we walked the 4 km along the beach from Wangaratta to horseshoe bay and back. I think we are fit enough to outrun a croc now. We need to put something on Dotti though, like hot chili so the croc won’t eat her. She was too tired/painful leg to join us. Nossi will have no problems outrunning all of us.
The weather turned perfect, sunny and warm. Marjo snorkeled and saw some reef but was spoilt by our snorkeling in the Whitsundays some years back. So although nice, nothing to write in a blog about.

The camping is horrible. People stay here from June till August/September and know each other. It’s a bit like Payton Place or some other tv series where people have nothing to do then talk about each other and have so much time on their hands that everything is discussed in minute detail. Oh no, I hope that’s not what I’m doing in this blog. Please tell me I’m not becoming a grey nomad….

Well, tomorrow we’ll go to a more secret place…..hydeaway bay (I know, weird spelling).

Oh and we forgot to take any pictures today so just a few oldies…..

Posted from Bowen, Queensland, Australia.

The rain had stopped in the morning and we decided to celebrate by a second day at Travelers Rest. This is actually a nice camping, the grey nomads keep to themselves at the powered sites and sit in the camp kitchen to talk about the hippies (us). We are the only campers on the grass, close to the beach. The amenities are great and no one complains about our unleashed dogs.

I had a lazy day, after making her majesty her breakfast with egg (that she deserves, so no complains from me) I read my ebook and dozed. Dotti did too and Marjo and Nossi went on a long walk and took some nice pictures.

Meanwhile I shaved (cheeks only), showered and when they returned I baked on request mini pancakes with raisins for lunch. I forgot to add an egg, but Marjo had one that morning and too many eggs seem to be not good or so. So Nossi did a nap and Marjo waited patiently for me to finish cooking.

In the afternoon we looked at the forthcoming itinerary around Bowen (to snorkel from the beach) and Dingo beach/Hydeaway (I know, strange spelling) because it seems to be nice and on the way to a nice waterfall.

In the late afternoon a drizzle started and Marjo and Nossi went for a long walk again around a small island. Nossi discovered fishing, waiting patiently in belly deep water for the fish to swim by and then hoppa missed! And that over and over.

Posted from Midge Point, Queensland, Australia.

The days become a bit of a blur. Must be the alcohol.
To be honest, we have been very modest with alcohol. One drink a night and not even every time.
Our memory still works though and we can remember the trucks and sugar and coal trains passing by the camping very well. Don’t these people sleep?
Although a nice camping, we love our nights rest. It didn’t bother us too much actually, when I hit my pillow and am not distracted, I fall asleep within a minute. Enfin, we decided that Clairview was nice for one night and move on.

We want to have a look at Mackay and drove there. On the way we see a sign for Armstrong Beach and because I saw the man set foot on the moon when I was 7 and we read about a camping on the beach we turned off from the Bruce Highway. Armstrong Beach must have been able to dip deep in the Economic Stimulus program as all the houses and roads look like they were put up yesterday. Very different from the paint hungry houses (if we may call them that) in Mount Moran or the various little townships we pass. We drove along the beach and then see that one has missed out, the camping! An overcrowded, weird organized plot, cramped with cars, caravans and campers. We didn’t even stop but kept going and did an uwie (u-turn) half on the road and half on the grass. Then we went back past the campyard and stopped at a beach access, to give the dogs and ourself a little stretch. The ducks and a mother and child led the way.

Again the ocean was far from where the beach started. All the sand that has been washed from the NSW beaches such as Smiths Lake must have washed onshore here. The slope of the beach is so gradual that you have to walk hundreds of meters to get to the water. Strange.

Then an uneasy feeling overcome us. We felt watched, observed even. We looked around but nothing or no one else but the four of us. So we thought. Nossi spotted the armies first.

Not only were they well organized and had troop maneuvers to surround us.

Also they went in sentries as soon as we came in close range.

We felt overpowered and made a honourfull retreat. It could also be that the rain picked up and we didn’t want to get wet.

We drove back to the Bruce Highway and looked for something like fish & chips. What we found was an overdone tavern and decided to park next to it instead and have a home made lunch. For me egg on bread with ham and cheese (yummie) for Marjo noodles in a cup (ok, I guess). By then the rain came steadily down and everything starts to look the same. Then onto Mackay where we saw the trivia answer.

In Mackay we stopped to get some essentials (coffee, dog food and chocolate for Axel). Then we went onto Midge Point where we saw a nice camping. Our sources are now multi fold with all kind of websites where people give reviews and leave pictures and this looked quite nice.
That it is indeed. We arrived in the pouring rain, found a spot on the empty grass (we like it better there, more room and privacy and you save $4 a night). The downside is that in rain it gets a bit soppy but with thongs it is not too bad. We walked the dogs on the beach (that is endless, with the ocean about a kilometer out at low tide, no joke) and then sat under the awning listening to the rain.

When it got too dreary, we went inside and looked at next camp sites and the weather. Great. A week of rain forecasted for the whole of Queensland. Nossi didn’t care.

Posted from Midge Point, Queensland, Australia.

The rain had stopped overnight and although there was no sun, the day seemed to start well. Then I opened the fridge and although not as warm as the 20 degrees early morning outside (yeah, the weather has definitely improved temperature wise) it was not the required 4 degrees or so. Malfunction. First things first though and I made our breakfast. Then trying to locate the fault. Is there power? Check the fuses. That’s where the problem was, perhaps because we filled the fridge with new shopping yesterday. New fuse, same problem. Hmmm, more serious. Glad I brought all the tools…..;)
Then it showed that the power connection was connected to earth which is a big no no. On my back under the bus it worked out that the power for the battery is covered by a flexible tube which filled up with water during the drive in the rain. Turning it over not only cleared the cable from the rainwater but also splashed the dirty water in my face. Great.
Checking the connection now showed that there was no short and a new fuse made the fridge whirr like old. Not keen on warm food every rainy day I changed the course of the cable so that it won’t happen again.

Then another shower to rinse off the dirty water and we were on our way. This time down the hill of Mount Morgan, through Rockhampton and more north. The rain stayed away all day and we even got a little sun.

Spot the two dogs amongst the bird, bee, fish and turtle in the picture below.

We had worked out the way to some nice sounding campings closer to the coast. Wrong idea. All the ones we called were booked or washed out because of rain. So we followed the road to a camping in Carmila. Arriving there we saw a field of dirt, some roofs that are generally used for horse sheds, and many many caravans/campervans. Not us.

We turned around and looked for the next possibility. While driving, we saw some amateur signs along the road advertising a camping that was not listed in any of our books.
We arrived at Clairview Beach Camping, which seemed quite full. It worked out that the powered sites were booked but that the unpowered were a 5 acre grass field. Fires allowed. Marjo over the moon. We parked close to the bush, set up and walked with the dogs to the beach whilst spotting firewood. The beach was strange, no waves and no sea. Wait, there it is. About 200 meters from where the beach started we could see the water’s edge. No wind. No waves.
Nossi loved it, zoomies over the sand, over and through the shallow pools of water. We did a big loop and arrived back at he camping an hour later. Marjo cooked food and I went out to hunt. Well, to gather wood for the fire at least.

At the camping the people didn’t want us to swim in the ocean. Upon asking why, because we are not horrible ocean swimmers, she said “the crocs”. Marjo asked: “What about them?”. She said, well we wouldn’t want you to be eaten, although they’ll eat the dogs first. Look for where you see slide channels on the beach from their bellies, then you know they are in the water. Right, that means if they’re not in the water, where are they then at this moment? We kept a vigilant eye on the dogs from then on. As long as there are two, we are safe. It’s about time we brush up on our croc knowledge.

We woke up with rain, as forecasted. We were prepared and had everything already packed up so we could leave early. A ‘family’ of four takes time though. Breakfast, washing, emptying toilet cassette, etc., so it was not until after paying for our fifth night and after 8.30 am that we drove from the campsite. First we wanted to see if we could get access to a wifi hotspot because although you can do a lot via the iPhone’s Internet, the speed and data quantity is limited for things like backups. The free wifi hotspots at McDonalds are a sham. We have now twice had to have a burger there, and Marjo knows how much I hate them, to try and use their free Wifi only to find that the connection quality is worse than the iPhone’s own hotspot. Perhaps we will have to try Hungry Jack’s next time ;p

We want to outrun the rain again so want to make good progress and drive up towards Rockhampton. Having heard nice things about Gladstone, and also keen to get some new bread, meat and veggies, we drive towards Gladstone, an hour away, plus 30 minutes for the bus, plus 30 for roadworks. All of Queensland seems to be under construction. There is obviously money and everywhere you see signs of roadwork. That doesn’t necessarily mean that there are actually people working there, but there is clearly been roadwork and the signs of 80 then 60 then 40 are still there.

The Queensland government loves signs. Every kilometer or two there is a sign telling you to pull over for rest or you die a horrible death. Things like “Rest or R.I.P” or “Ambulance in 40 km” or we saw a cage on the side of the road with a crashed van and motorbike intertwined as example of what can happen. At the same time they try things like trivia. We have had the question “what is the flower in the emblem of Queensland”. It took several days and hundreds of kilometers to see the answer. We’ll let you wait too 🙂

After the school holidays and up from Agnes Waters the Grey Nomads invasion has started. Where it was not often we saw caravans or campers before (apart from camp sites of course), now we see many many of them. From small utes with tents to massive rigs with slide out walls. Rest areas are congregation points and camp sites are full. They clearly know each other and seem to travel in flocks. That’s why we are looking for campsites out of the way, which makes our new book Camp sites version 6 useless as everyone seems to follow that too.

So today we went to Rockhampton and then confused everyone and went 35 kilometers inland and back (South West). A place called Mount Morgan. We now know why it is called that, after 30 minutes hairpin bends and steep inclines. The town of Mount Morgan has 100 years of gold history and a mining tour (when it doesn’t rain, which it did all day).
We arrived at the camp site, parked and decided to not even unpack dogbeds or seats. All we did was a shower, a meal, a wine and Joran & Christine’s gin with tonic and then watching the tv series ‘Bones’ on the iPad.

Three stories to write, that’s what happens if you’re just holidaying and not keeping track……

Dotti felt her lucky day as she picked up the emptied yoghurt tub from the floor. There’s always a lot of remains stuck to the sides.

The last full day at Workman’s beach was a bit odd. I wanted to fly my kite, but the weather was not great. Gusty, cloudy, rain not far off. The beach at the Agnes Water surf club is quite narrow and unkiteable at anything but low tide, so I had to wait till the early afternoon.

In the morning we went to the beach, as Marjo described in Life on Workman’s beach.

In the afternoon I jumped on my bike, well that sounds more energetic than what happened. Because we only have bikes when the bus is parked, and the surf beach is 4 km from the camping, I repacked and strapped on the kitebag (I thought for a minute to also take the board) and hoisted myself in the saddle. The bike saddle is for 20 year young men with backsides as narrow as a matchstick and not for my ample behind plus the weight of a kite backpack. So after 10 meters struggling through the soft sand on the camping I knew I would regret this trip. Not that I would ever admit this to anyone.

The presents that I got from my kids over the years pay off. The watertight bag from Joran to bring dry clothes and a towel and the watertight clear bag from Niki for the iPhone. You can even work the phone while in the bag.

Luckily the town of Agnes Water is down hill from the camping and I could almost effortlessly let the bike and gravity do the work while I stood on the paddles, hovering my backside half an inch from the saddle. I stopped at the kiteplace which was on the way to the surf club to see if Phil would be kiting too and also to ask for replacement of a missing repair kit for the kite. Both were confirmed and with fresh enthusiasm I jumped back in the saddle. Mistake……

When I arrived at the surf club (I will spare you the details of the trip) I had to drop the bike sideways so that I could just roll off the bike. Luckily no one was there to watch it as elegant is not something that jumped to mind. I locked the bike and walked to the beach in a way Lucky Luke does. If you don’t know who he is than you have missed part of your youth 🙂

At the beach it was clear that the ocean didn’t get the same tide table that I reviewed. The beach was only visible for about 10 meters deep, from the sharp tree branches to where the waves stop. The lines on the bar are 24 meters though. So I stepped out the 26 meters from the branches to the ocean and ended up thigh-high in the water. Not ideal. Then Phil arrived. He looked like he was not to keen either. The lack of a complete low tide, the gusty wind and also mean high waves didn’t look like the ideal scenario to got kiteboarding. We spoke about the situation which is stupid. Two men not wanting to give in to each other that they rather pack up and go back. So instead we unpacked, pumped up the kites and he helped me launch my kite while I stood almost waist high in the waves. Because I didn’t bring my board, I could only train the kiting, which was ok, and then some body dragging. That was not ok. I swallowed the half of the ocean that I missed out on last time I went. I decided that I had proven that I didn’t pedal all that way for nothing and landed the kite in Phil’s hands. Then it was his turn. I helped launching his kite and he got on his board (he has been kiteboarding for 37 years) and kited out and on the way back caught a wave wrong and went under. Then he dragged back to shore and that was it for him too. It was just no fun.

We spent another hour or so just talking and getting packed up, blown dry and headed back. The bike ride back was even more fun than the way there, this time up hill and wind in my face.

It was great to see the bus set up for a windy and colder day and have Nossi jump when he saw me, see Dotti’s tail wag and hear the ‘Hey, you’re back” from Marjo. All in all a good day.

Ok, before the trip there have been many suggestions to our attire and looks with suggestions of cave(wo)man, hippie, gypsies, homeless and the like. We have had meetings, group sessions, seances, fire dances (I think the origin of those have more to do with continuous alternating wind -read smoke – directions), navel gazing and crystal balls but have decided we need your help. In response to a request from my mother our first change in looks.

Please get out the keyboard and comment with your votes (only one vote per commentator please):

ORIGINAL

HALF ASSED

FULL MONTY

At all times the proprietors reserve the right to influence the outcome.

As you might know from other posts, one of the key reasons to go to Agnes Waters or 1770 is the kite surfing. We had contacted Cedric of Kitesurfing1770.com before and set up a lesson. Instead he contacted me that the wind had picked up (normally in winter there doesn’t seem to be enough wind) and if I wanted to have my lesson a day earlier. With excitement I got on my bike and went into town. That was a piece of cake, wind in my back and down hill.

I first went to the surfshop in Agnes Waters to pick up a wetsuit. They only had a short version with bare legs and arms and size too small. Supersexy for when you’re twenty and body hugging attire has an appeal. When I arrived at the kite surfing place Cedric was very friendly and also Phil, his mate and Buddy the dog welcomed me. I got a sniff over from Buddy and an American Campervanning story from Phil that he completed just two months before.

Cedric took me through some of the equipment and explained that his lesson would cover kite setup, safety and flying the kite. I was a bit disappointed as I was expecting that the trainer kite flying would have made me ready for boarding that same day.

We went with Cedric’s 4×4 to the local surf club and brought the gear to the beach. Then I got suited up:
– too tight wetsuit leaving arms and legs bare
– harness to hook the kite onto, one that you step into like a nappy
– safety vest (compulsory in Australia)
– helmet

I felt I would either melt because of all the gear in he sun or sink because of the meal and plastic. Neither was true. One step on the beach showed that Cedric was right with good wind. There was about 25 knots which for amateurs, is quite a lot. It still being winter and the wind coming straight from the south pole it wasn’t the warmest wind either.

We went through safety (SEA I remember but I have no idea who it stands for any more….the E was Environment, uhmmm, the A is activity and of course the S is surrounding). An assessment if everything is safe to go kiting. Then the gear, unwrap and pump up the kite, secure it, connect the bar and lines and explain how the chicken loop, donkey dick and safety loop work. Quite technical and all aimed at keeping me safe.

Then we went through the launching and steering and control and landing of the kite. It is all quite involved because of the power of the kite. With the wrong handling it will lift me without a problem.

Then I went through steering the kite and keeping it just above the ground (3 o’clock), 30 degrees off (2 o’clock), 60 degrees (I’m sure you get the picture now) and fully at 12 o’clock and then the same on the right hand site on 11, 10 and 9 o’clock. This was then followed by weaving the kite between 1 and 2 on the one side and 11 and 10 on the other. This movement generates power and it is easy to feel the 6 meter kite pull hard.

Apart from the harness and the control of the kite, the flying itself I knew from the trainer kite, and I had quite some advantage from having flown the training kite about 6 times before. Still it is quite hard to control the movement in gusty wind as well as the level of control. If you’re interested in the steering and control let me know in a comment.
Marjo was able to capture my techniques from the camp site beach…..a kilometer away.

After I had steering and control reasonably sussed out, Cedric got me into the water for body dragging. By holding the kite at 1.30 o’clock and weaving it between 1 and 2 o’clock while lying on my stomach in the water the kite pulled me through the waves down wind. Great, while looking up at the kite I swallowed half the ocean through my nose and mouth. Then the kite to 12 o’clock and to the other side at 10.30 o’clock to be pulled back to the beach. Less spray and salt water swallowing this time. Then walking back along the beach with the kite still at 10.30. I repeated this exercise another 3 times until I couldn’t feel my feet and fingers anymore and the ocean was completely swallowed by me.

Then back to Cedric’s place and on the bike back to the store, drop off the – now very wet – suit and to the camping, in the wind, up the hill. I was a bit warmer from the biking back but was over the moon so happy that Marjo had a warm bath (well at least a washing bucket with warm water) and warm dry clothes. My superwoman.

Kiting day two

At the end of day one I was not super enthusiastic about kite surfing. The kite control was much harder than expected and I was cold cold cold. Day two I couldn’t wait for Cedric to pick me up for a lesson in a lagoon. After a drive with him, buddy (drooling over my pants on the backseat next to me) and another student (a young Dutch woman working on a dredging project in Gladstone) we arrived an hour later with an unsettled stomach at the mouth of two rivers. The unsettled stomach was the result of a captivating but very rough 4 wheel drive track through the National park.

We arrived at the river mouth and geared up. This time Phil took me and Nathan into the (also freezing) water of the river to learn upwind body dragging. Both Nathan and I got that pretty quick and to avoid running up to high on the river bank we tried more downwind dragging as well. Because Nathan and I shared one kite (an 11 meter kite) we had to wait turns. Wet, in the cold hard wind. All fun.

Then Cedric took over, explained how to get lift out of the water by weaving the kite quickly from 12 to 2 or from 12 to 10 o’clock depending on which way you want to go. At the same time your feet are hooked into a board and you have your knees bent with the forward leg a little stretched. This is not easy…..holding a kite with its own ideas, a wind that is a little gusty, a board that doesn’t know that you’re trying to point it and a helmet that prevents you to see the kite while floating in not very warm water. The place was ideal though with water up to my thighs so I could stand anywhere and walk to the board when I lost it. That happened at least once…..perhaps 10 times. After many many attempts I was able to get lifted out of the water and could stay on the board for 2 seconds before falling back. A BUZZ THOUGH. I am hooked……

Then with the car back. There also seems to be a normal road that is less direct but instead with 50 kph over a very very bumpy four wheel track he did 120 kph over the bitumen, the heating on and Buddy snoring on the seat next to me.

Back in the shop we agreed on a package and I’m now waiting for tomorrow to take it out……

Posted from Agnes Water, Queensland, Australia.

I woke up in a sweat. Did we or didn’t we? We got sooooo close, but walking the camping in the morning the ear-to-ear smile on the Queenslander’s faces gives me the answer. It was no nightmare. The Blues really lost with 20-21. There are not many Australian sports (or non-Australian sports for that matter) that I really care about but Niki and I rarely miss the State of Origin. If we can’t be at the game all dressed up in blue then we’ll watch it together on a big screen.

Better over to nicer subjects. Apart from the unfavourable game result, the night went well. The dogs have a good night sleep, Nossi jumps on our bed at around 6.30/7 am and Dotti waits patiently and when we have finished breakfast and she is getting too hungry and we don’t feed them quickly enough she murders a sheep for appetizer.

We decide that one night at an orderly camping is enough, our clothes are clean and we are refreshed with hot showers so on to the next place. While we are packing up, Nossi finds a spot to sunbathe.

We take a quick stop outside the gates of the camping and walk the beach with the dogs. This beach is strict on leash only and to just let Nossi enjoy his zoomies we undo his leash for a minute. He must feel that something is wrong as he just looks at us as if to say “what’s the big deal here?”.
On the trip from the camping to the side of the road the bus showed some flickering dashboard lights. I figured that the v-belt would be loose but after checking see that it’s all ok. Then it appears that the regulator of the alternator is gone. The voltage goes up and down with the revs of the engine and also if we turn on lights or use the indicators the voltage shows strong fluctuations. This has happened once before 4 years ago and I could find a replacement (mechanical) regulator. That lasted 4 years. Now they seem to make and electronic one that is available only in the US. So I’ve ordered it and while it is in the mail we need to keep a good eye on the charging.

Then we are on our way, all the way back from Woodgate to Goodwood where we see the rural sign for schools. Outside of cities Australians seem to care less for their children or drivers have a quicker reaction. Where everywhere 40 kph is deemed a safe speed to stop quickly, for rural schools twice that limit seems appropriate. Strange.

Everywhere along the road we see small stalls with produce and buy fresh fruit for a bargain price. Nossi seems very nosey every time Marjo leaves the bus.

While we’re driving he seems content with just his coffee.

Then we arrive in Agnes Waters, a town close to 1770. This strange name for a place is for the tourists, so they can remember when Captain Cook landed there for boat repairs after he was the first to start damaging the barrier reef.
The main reason Agnes Waters is on the itinerary is that kitesurfing is a major sport here. And I happen to have an interest to learn it.

We are staying at a bush camping, maintained by the council, not expensive ($5.50 pppd) and has pit toilets (send a comment if you want explanations of what that is) and a surfy shower.
We find a nice spot, scouted by Marjo and unpack. This is not a big job and consists of:
– hang up fly screens (magnetic, so easy clicks on the bus)
– open gas bottle
– get the dogbeds and chairs from the trailer (we’ve started automatically to call it the shed)
– get the table from the back of the bus
– open the roof hatch
– put the guitar on the driver’s seat and the sun reflector behind the front window
Done!

First we go to the beach. There is quite a bit of wind (handy for kitesurfing) so we dress appropriately and after a 3 minute walk check out the three beaches, separated by rocky breakers. Very nice. Then we sit down for a picture.

There is no wind at all on the beach and I text the French Swiss dude that operates the kiteshop to see if kiting lessons are still planned for the day after tomorrow and he says “of course, in fact do you want to start tomorrow”. I’m doubtful with no good wind but confirm anyway.

The rest of the evening was a fabulous Marjo meal again, feeding the dogs and early inside. This is a no-campfire camping, so the evenings with wind get a bit chill. The temperature at night is vastly improved though and stays in the double digits.