Our Australia trip

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.

Day two at Workmans Beach

Take two! Yes take two, because I wrote a whole lot of stuff, and even saying I hope I can save it before Axel is back, because the save button was gone (misteriously) and replaced by a edit button.
Axel came back and said>; yes you press the keyboard symbol so the keyboard goes away and whalah there is the save button! Mister Axel than updated the post and LOST it!

Ok, day two, Axel just left on his bike to go to a kite surf lesson, one kilometer away from the camping. He is wearing a helmet and a backpack and looks the part!

Nos, Dotti and I are going to the beach, first for walk around the rocks to find some nice puddles to play in, later on for a rest in the dunes with a very nice view.

Back to the bus for lunch, sandwich with strawberries.
We left Dotti in the bus for a nap and Nos and I went to the beach again, this time for a swim.
Lucky the sun was out, because it was still chilly when you came out of the water.

In the afternoon I rearranged our closets, got rid of most of the winter clothes, and in with the summer clothes. A body warmer and sweater is enough for the colder nights and mornings.

Axel came back at 4.30 and was cold, yes he has a wet suit, but one with short sleeves and short legs. So I think we are going to buy him a new one, a full one.
After a rinse we had coffee(so he could hold a nice warm mug) and chat about his lesson
He liked everything apart from the waves pounding on his face every time he had to look up at the kite( he did not have glasses on), his eyes were quite red I must admit.
We had a nice dinner with rice and veg, chocolate and coffee and fruit for desert.
We made it an early night, after your fifties you feel it when you do some extreme sports!

Day three at workmans beach

Axel was being picked up by the kite surf instructor, they planned to go to some lagoon which was about one hour drive away.
A lagoon has still water and is better for learning the on and in the water stuff, and much nicer for the learner in regards waves pounding on faces etc.

Nos, Dotti and I did pretty much the same thing as the day before, apart from rearranging the closet.
I did artwork instead, and found that very relaxing .

On the beach we met up with the people at the back of us, they have a nice dog friend for Nossi and I chatted for about an hour with them.
They live in Blackwater, a mining town four hours from here,and they camp often and shoot pigs for a hobby. They also move every couple of years to an other town, at the camping they sleep in a swag next to the car (like Niki sometimes does except she sleeps with the swag IN the car) and have the dog on a piece of rope tied to the car.

I had a chat with a nice old couple who travel in an egg, at least it looks like an egg, it is called a teardrop campervan. It only contains a bed, the kitchen is in the booth which you can lift up.
They wear beanies and walk hand in hand, so sweet!

Axel was home late, he bought a real kite! Yes a big ass kite (I think) twelve meter wide.
I guess he is a tall man and needs a large kite to lift him out of the water.
So yes he liked it very much those lessons and was hooked!
He came home even colder, so I prepared a big bowl of hot water for him to wash himself instead of the icy cold surf shower.
Coffee and port to warm the bones and story telling was the start of the evening.

Day four Workmans beach

This morning we all went to the beach and had a nice sun-bake and walk and a chat to a Italian boy.

Back at the bus we tried ways to crack macadamia nuts, some people say put them first in the freezer the shell becomes more brittle, but Axel found it works with a self grip wrench! At a camping a while ago, I bought a kilo bag of walnuts from a Dutch guy and Axel is now cracking them too with help from Dotti. We put them all in a large pot to go with our breakfast.

Axel left on the bike again to go to town to the surf instructors place where he left the glasses the instructor gave him (no red eyes anymore)
I started to write take one of this post!

Just some nitty gritty here, I have a few more toilet names for you: blokes and Sheila’s, the old fella and the missus, remember before you had mangoes and nomangoes.

Some day to day stuff:

It is so nice to wake up when you wake up instead of by the alarm lock, yes I rub it in!
Axel makes breakfast and hops back in bed, yes we eat in bed! I then go outside for a smoke and feed the dogs, feeding the dogs happens at the back of the trailer. The metal food bin stands in the front of the trailer, and next to it a workbench where you can put the bowls, that is handy because Dotti needs some pills and medicine put in her food. The dogs eat and go walkabout for a bit, I put the kettle on for a second coffee, and Axel makes himself ready for the day. We have our coffee and chat about our day plans, we fill the day with stuff you read about already.

The evenings starts off with a nice stiff drink and some nibbles and a phone call to the kids or some emails. Axel starts writing the blog, and I start cooking the evening meal, Axel feeds the dogs and we have our meal. Most of the time Axel does the dishes while he makes the coffee after dinner, I bring out the yummies for desert and have a walk with the dogs.

This camping has a no fire policy so the evenings are different than at the campings where we can have a fire which is most of them. With a fire the nice thing is, you have to put wood on it, you can poke in it, you have silence, darkness, moonlight sometimes, starry skies and stories. When there is no fire to do all those things with, you sit in your chair with a candle and chat and sometimes go to bed early because of the cold. That will change when we get more north I hope, we long for nice warm weather all around, but hey it is still winter.

For now we would like you to know that we are very happy campers! X

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.

We had a slow start this morning, during the night it got so cold that the grass was still white when we let the dogs outside. They only wanted to go outside for a quick whizz and were back quickly. I got frozen fingers, nose and feet making breakfast and Marjo didn’t even let me get close to get some warmth. Luckily Nossi fulfilled the role of foot warmer.

Then I did a walk around the camping with the dogs, had a look at a fellow camper who traveled with a large GM 2500 ute customized with a sleep on unit and a Hobie foldable trimaran on the roof. The truck itself was already big and high, the sleep-on unit made it even bigger and the Hobie on top made it a monster.
The hobie itself was pretty cool though. It had two seats in the middle with a main sail but also foot propelled flaps to move without wind and an electric outboard for when you get too tired without wind. I looked it up but the thing complete costs well over $5k and weighs a tonne. Nice ideas but not for us.

The feature of this camp is a hybrid toilet. I’m sure all green blog readers start itching and moving to the edge of their seat in anticipation of what this is. Where most remote campaigns have toilets that are nothing more than a toilet pan, seat and lid above a big hole in the ground with associated yuck smells, this hybrid contortion has a little metal lid under the seat with a spring (I’m guessing here because it is still too yuck for a close up investigation). Once seated and producing yuck, it falls on the slippery metal lid and the weight makes it open and flap back again. I can only hope that they have seriously road tested this feature as I would not like the spring be too eager and flap back the yuck where it came from. It seemed to operate well though. The toilet paper is not heavy enough to operate the flap and once you close the lid there is a foot operated big rubber button that (by the sound of it) flushes some water on the flap which again makes the flap flip. I haven’t worked out what the hybrid part means, but it seems to operate well.

We slowly packed up and were on the road by midday. First we tried to take a shortcut and the GPS agreed. That brought us to Tinnan Bay over a beautiful tarmac road. It was the end of the line though. There is only one way in and out of Tinnan Bay and it is that beautiful road. Well Tinnan Bay road is for 5 km nice (probably paid for by Tinnan Bay) and then the remaining 7 km is horribly unsealed with corrugation, potholes and exposed stones.

The bus doesn’t like corrugated roads and any speed above 15 kph makes everything shake and rattle like there is no tomorrow. So we keep the speed down and a 7 km road takes then about half an hour.
The bus is great but not the fastest. The engine works a treat but is 30 years old and has not the modern oomph of turbo diesels. This means that although there is enough power (torque) to get up any hill, it doesn’t get you there very fast. Us optimists have found one big advantage…..you never end up at the end of a traffic queue, we just create them.

We have agreed to go to Agnes Waters, just south of Gladstone, where a good kiteboarding centre is. I will take kiteboarding lessons there and see if it is captivating enough to buy the gear and do the sport. The camping that we have put our eyes on there is 1 km out of Agnes Waters and has only cold showers. The deal is that tonight we will have hot showers so we can stay a couple of days at the Agnes Waters camping.

While driving we look at options and see a turnoff for Woodgate Caravan Park, on the beach. Of course we miss the turnoff and stop a bit further to make a coffee and discuss options. We call Woodgate and they have a spot. It seems to be a Grey Nomad place, meaning that half Melbourne camps here. They close the door in the cold in Melbourne, drive to Woodgate and stay here 3 to 6 months in the relative warmth, play lawn balls, walk the beach and do some fishing. Living the live.

Well, this again is not our camping. The sites are close to each other and the dogs need to be on the leash, even on the beach! We will stay the night and do some laundry, take a hot shower, have a fancy dinner (fish and chips) and will hear the State of Origin from all the caravan tv’s. The bloody Melborians will side with the Maroons so I will be a lone Blues fan. Go Blues, go! This is the only evening I regret we have no working tv!

The day started early with another cold night and early visit from Nossi. We decided that three nights of Amamoor was enough and that we challenged luck long enough. During our stay there was no visit from the ranger and we saved ourselves the camping fee. After having seen the Muster fees, I’m sure they won’t miss our contribution. At least there are fewer wood fire size pieces of dry timber for the ranger to worry about.

While packing up we spoke to the owners of Rosa, Nossi’s friend. They were trialling out their new Winnebago Escape, a nice compact Campervan costing a small fortune and were not very happy. Lots of things that sounded great in the showroom worked out to be not very functional, defunct or plainly annoying. They were planning many changes before going on a trip around Australia later this year. Perhaps my mirror construction is not so bad after all……

Now pretty efficient in packing up, we left the camp ground at around 9.30 am, tried to remember the way back, which gave some “yes, I remember this” and “hmm, doesn’t look familiar”. When you’re over 50 those memories don’t come automatically.

We made it back over the creek crossing, the hilly road and passed through Amamoor where we saw a post office on the way to the camping. Marjo went there twice, once without wallet and once with dog and wallet (I don’t dare to let her go without someone to guard her wallet anymore) while I exchanged black water (the yuck stuff) for fresh water at the local public toilet.
When I drove back to the post office annex general store annex only shop in Amamoor someone shouted. That appeared to be the sign for the train and soon we saw the train pass….a small locomotive with only one carriage. I hope that this is not the typical public transport around here and that it is a rehearsal for the Muster or something.

While waiting for Marjo who had to hear the complete life story of one of the store’s customers, I rang the kids to catch up after three days of no communication and we saw Rosa’s owners drive past. Then we gave the GPS instructions to find us the way to Log Dump camping ground with a stop in between at a Woollies. Instead of making that simple, the devious piece of software guided us around and through Gympie. If anything is fun with a heavy bus and trailer then it is up and down the hilly and narrow roads of Gympie. Not. At least it appears to be a nice place when you’re not driving, Marjo says.

We stocked up on food and booze and Marjo got Joran’s favorite Pecan Pie. I got the honour to precut it for easier travel and managed to get it on my face, my pants, the steering wheel and Marjo’s pants (only because it ended up on the outside of the plastic box). Yummie but sticky custard.

Then we drove to Log Dump. The GPS did alright this time, but now the camping guide misled us. Without exact locations such as useful coordinates it described a route with a wrong road. The turn off onto Tinnenbar road seemed to have been permanently closed. Ringing he Queensland Government resulted in a “We’ll call you back’. Used to the inefficiency of the NSW government we took control and decided to continue along the Permanently Closed road. After 50 meters, the phone rang and Bruce, the local ranger explained that we had the wrong road. No way to turn around of course. So, like a drunken monkey, I reversed the bus and trailer. This is extra difficult because the bus is wider than the trailer and as long as there is no trailer visible you’re going straight. As soon as you see the trailer (through my newly constructed mirror) it was too late and only sharp correcting could somehow fix it. This all meant that it took ages to drive the 50 meters back in reverse. Then we understood that the correct road was further down. When you ever bring up this story with Marjo don’t believe her when she says that I misunderstood. It was Bruce who couldn’t explain it. Another interesting turn later we finally got onto the right road. A road that doesn’t even exist on Google Maps or our beloved GPS. Before heading down this road, we asked a couple of guys towing a tinnie and they confirmed. Seven kilometers of dirt road later we found the Log Dump camping.

The camping is on a river that connects to water where dugongs, turtles and dolphins live. Marjo had the thought of checking it out in her kayak, until she heard that only 2 kilometers from here signs are put up to warn for crocodiles. She believes they can swim these two kilometers without any problem. I think it’s too cold for them but then again, I’m not a kayaker……

After a lovely meal (compliments to the lovely chef) and a fire that was determined to make me smell of smoke (again) it is time to layer up and get under the doona. Sweet dreams.

Amamoor Camping Ground was a winner, a large site with grass, trees, bush and a creek.

It was a bit strange though; on entry we saw many dilapidated buildings (I always wanted to use that word, you could of course also say buildings in disrepair or ruins in wording) and also the many tents but hardly any people. On further inspection we discovered that this was not a ghost camping – would that have been a story – but the preparations and stalled facilities for the annual Gympie Muster festival. For amateurs, like me the Gympie Muster festival is:
Amamoor Creek Sate Forest Park, located just outside of Historical Gympie, creates a picturesque home site for one of Australia’s largest outdoor Music Festival, entrenched in community spirit far removed from ties, clocks, suits and schedules. Thousands of festival goers are attracted every year by the smorgasbord of diverse programs rich with our country’s finest musicians, the bush land setting laced with inviting whiffs of campfire cooking and fresh bush eucalypt, the easy camaraderie created by companionable patrons all set to simply enjoy themselves, “there are no strangers at the Muster, only friends you haven’t met yet”

Apparently it is very popular with 70,000 tickets over the four days and already late June the main camping site was booked and marked by roped off areas with empty tents on it. Crazy.

We had a good time there, the dogs roamed free and Nossi found a friend Rosa, a 2 year old poodle with whom he made crazy loops around the camping. Marjo found another opportunity to put the boat to water and had to paddle fast to outrun the stream. Five minutes later she found another obstacle upstream so although it was fun, there wasn’t too much to explore. The river seems to be littered with crossings, fallen trees and the like.

I spent some time totally redesigning my mirror setup. With parts bought in Canungra and use of most the tools I brought we now have a solid passenger mirror. It will never earn any prices of industrial design or make it onto mean stream cars I guess, but it seems to do the job.
Also I puzzled with the drawers inside the bus that are kept drive safe with a piece of timber. Every corner Dotti looks weary up as she realizes that when these pieces of timber fail, she fears she will be the recipient of drawers plus contents. Not that this can happen, but nevertheless I’ve now made an extra lock/stop.

In addition to being the stage for Marjo’s exercise and kayak adventure, the stream also provides an excellent base for fossicking. This time no gold or gemstones but just pretty rocks. And there were plenty. I have learned that in admiring Marjo’s finds, I sometimes need to be more critical. Certainly with more than 11 months to go, one needs to be very critical about the number of rocks we can carry. So although all the found treasures have all unique characteristics and are pretty, we can only take a few. I must say that she is getting smarter about hiding places in the bus and trailer and there are plenty. Just need to be careful when eating things like nuts I guess.

With more time we had fun playing a game of Kubb, a simple but fun game from Scandinavia involving a King, his Kubbs and Batons that my mum introduced us to and I made with my brother when he visited for my 50th. The good part is that you can play it almost everywhere with 2 to 12 people, it is easy to learn and you can play it with a beer in one hand and a baton in the other.

After three days a shower moves from ranked a luxury to something that is front of mind. With nightly temperatures between zero and four degrees a cold shower becomes a very refreshing exercise. I think next time I will repeat my backflip into the stream as in Uralla.

During one of our coffee/tea/booze breaks Nossi ran away madly barking. Then we saw a beautiful Guana walk up the tree. It didn’t mind us taking pictures until I came too close and she climbed higher and behind the tree.

While I was busy with extended renovations Marjo made some interesting bush walks with Dotti and Nossi and collected no firewood (it is not allowed to collect any firewood at Amamoor), and we had a nice fire every evening. Close to 9 pm it got so damp (dew) and cold that it was hard to pick up the not collected pieces of wood. Then we layer up and crawl under our doona’s with added comforter for an undisturbed night of sleep.

Now Dotti is fully normal again with a full night of sleep (the only remnants of her out of sickness is an octave higher bark) Nossi has decided that things get too cold at night and at around 5 am he sneaks in our bed and warms up our feet. He is smart enough to warm himself between the Donna and the comforter so as to be warm and not wake us. We don’t mind the extra warmth for now.

Posted from Tuan Forest, Queensland, Australia.

It worked a treat! No getting up in the middle of the night and we had to wake Dotti up as we wanted to leave early. Marjo wanted to see Eumundi markets which are between 7am and 2 pm and just over 100 km away. In bus time with a GPS that makes life hard and hilly hinterland that means at least 2 hours.

We circled mountains and did 20kph at an incline of 12% up and also in second gear tried to minimize revs while coming down the other side. The landscape has changed dramatically from the farming to much more rolling hills and immediately the inhabitants also are very different with produce on he side of the road, yoga retreats, protest signs against some quarry and the like. With Glass mountain to the right of us we get closer to the Bruce Highway and then towards the Eumundi markets. At one time we were sure we got lost and somehow ended up in Windsor as suddenly we passed Ettamogah pub, but it appears they are twins.
Getting closer, the traffic gets more dense and it seems that at around 10.30 am we are late. Cars parked everywhere, people seem to come from far to visit the markets. We toss a coin and Marjo gets the unlucky draw (or was it predetermined) to visit them while Dotti, Nossi and I drive around and find a nearby rest area.

Eumundu is probably not known because of its pittoresque rest areas as it is a little run down and full of dead tree limbs. Exactly what we needed as if anything, Queensland camp grounds don’t have any firewood. Where in NSW it is common for timber workshops to dump their offcuts for use by campers, Queensland only put up signs announcing that it is not allowed to gather any wood in the surrounding woods. As a result you see people camping with a car loaded full with camping gear and a trailer filled with logs. Apart from being continuous on he lookout for places to dump waste water and take on fresh water we are also now keeping a watchful eye on firewood opportunities. Don’t get me wrong, Queensland farmers are entrepreneurs and offer a 10kg bag of wood for $10 but that way we will have to cut our trip short and find work to earn money for firewood. Would wood chopping earn a good wage?

Eumundi markets are a success according to Marjo and I’m now munching on the dukkah (some crunchy bits you dip a piece of bread in after wetting it (that is he bread) in oil) that she got there. Then we continued onto a campsite that we looked at in our camping guide. Our strategy is now to find a few free campings (as they tend to be less structured) with a paid camping as fall back. With our version 6 of the camping guide we will not face the issue of campings that have suddenly decided not to allow dogs. Our strategy seems to pay off. We first looked at Amamoor Rest Area, and although not too bad we decide it is too close to the main road of town.

Then we continue over a part tarmac, part gravel road, creek crossing and arrive at Amamoor Creek Camping. This looks nice, quite big with quite some tents but plenty of opportunity to not have to hear your neighbour’s stories. It seems to require registration and the sign gives the website and also 24 hour phone number but with zero reception that remains a fantasy. Ah well, we’ll see.