Our Australia trip

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.

Another night with four times a Dotti break, twice Marjo and twice me. If this is how it’s going to be with grand children then I’m not so sure. At least no rain! The sky is always blue in Queensland but now half covered with clouds. Not too bad. It was a cold night with the campground open to the wide fields and a wind blowing. This is clearly farm land and as you know from the previous post a lot of cotton.
After breakfast we packed up, spoke to a family who drove up to go fishing. Being a fast flowing dam it seems that all the fish collects before the point where the excess water flows over the edge. Last night we had a family with two little kids and I bet that the fish was going to be their evening meal. Similar to the couple this morning, the fish must have had cold feet, as the couple last night arrived at about 5 pm and left only at around 9 pm!

Driving away was a bit tricky, with the campground so wet still from rain the bus gets bogged down quite easily and the back wheels turn to slicks, a bit like Marjo’s boots. We planned the route out over grass and crossing slippery bits and made it out ok.

We stopped to look at the rolls of cotton and were somewhat surprised that this is a popular crop but then again we don’t know too much about Australian farming other than that wheat is popular (AWB scandal) and that sugar cane is very popular around Bundaberg which is not far from here. I know that because most sugar products have that name.

The GPS did it again and wanted us to go over a closed dirt road. Marjo didn’t let me. So when we turned off we only had to cross a little river and Marjo looked for crocodiles. It might also have been a big puddle and she could also have been checking for hidden potholes.

Talking about potholes…..the main road inland is the 93, the one with road trains. They should do a better job in maintaining that as it is empty with potholes. I know it should be “full with them” but it feels wrong to say full with holes as the holes were definitely empty. It must be up to the local councils to maintain it because parts of the road are horrible where others are well maintained. At some bits we saw crews of 4, one looking up the road the other one down for oncoming traffic. One carrying a bucket with tarmac and the other with a shovel filling the potholes quickly. They rely on the on storming traffic to pack it down.

Closer to the coast people in Queensland are full of rugby and the captain of the Queensland team for State of Origin must be a local hero as roads, valleys, companies, bridges and dams all carry the Darren Lockyer name or a part thereof. Well we’ll see on Wednesday. Go Blues!

We arrived at Neurum Creek through dirt roads, paddocks and over dams and were surprised how well organized it is. We would call this hardly a retreat, sign posts everywhere and full with families. Definitely a nice environment and well run place. We asked for a quiet, bit private spot but they didn’t have any of those so instead we got a huge spot that the neighbouring kids used as a soccer field. Initially we planned for two nights but decided that being old geezers it was too busy and we shortened it to only one night.

Not wanting to get another broken night we thought that perhaps Dotti was not tired enough and woke us out of boredom, with no tv reception or Internet and all. So we did two walks with her, one before dinner and one just before sleeping. Let’s pray.

The tricky thing with weather forecasts is that they can change, and of course it has. So we woke up with more rain. A look at the various weather predictions meant that almost everywhere in a radius of 300 km it would still be miserable today and then progressively better. So up towards Toowoomba.

While we were still in bed discussing all this Marjo asked whether it was the 24th or 25th. I thought it was the 27th. Funny how that works when you’re traveling without clear purpose that time becomes meaningless. Then we looked on the iPad and said “happy anniversary”, our 27th.

To make it a bit of a special day we had – on a rather boring piece of road between Goondiwindi (by the way, the name is much more interesting than the place itself) and Toowoomba – an unplanned sidetrack. When we saw hand painted signs for winery and olive grove. After a few wrong turns, more turns, steep hills (the bus only could do that one in first gear) dirt roads we were about to give up. Then we saw a ute come our way and stop. It was the owner who said: “are you heading towards the olive grove because I was closing up and need to be at the doctor at 3 pm so have a little time.” Then he reversed and led us back to his place, unlocked the gate and showed us around.

The dogs were quiet in the bus while Marjo and I learnt about how he and his wife bought the 20 acre plot at the same time as many others as a lifestyle block from Allan Bond who planned a big project with marina, high risers, airport and more. Nothing of that eventuated apart from the olive grove and winery (he doesn’t grow grapes or produce wine but sells it from a friendly vineyard). He has 1,600 olive trees and produces 10 tonnes of olives, normally 15 tonnes, of which he gets about 1,000 liters of cold pressed virgin olive oil (first press). That is the best kind of oil and is used for direct consumption on lettuce and other dishes but would be a waste to cook with.
We tried some as well as the wines and bought a bottle of oil, a bottle of Merlot and a bottle of liqueur. We were tempted to buy his place (he sells it as he and his wife are close to 70 and want to travel) but decided against it.

Then we continued to Yarramalong where our next camping spot is, through more rain, avoiding road trains (a truck combination of at least 36 meters length) that race at speeds of 110 kph towards us in a spray of wind and rain or come up against us and overtake. The wind they produce is enormous and would easily blow a caravan off the road.

We didn’t take the turn to Texas although felt that we were in Arizona when we saw the large cactus bushes all along the road.

Arriving at Yarramalong we passed cotton fields (unexpected). The camping is a free one, probably because no one would pay to stay here. The entrance is so muddy that our bus couldn’t make it up the driveway and we had to skirt around it over the grass. Even that got a bit hairy but we got it done. We are the only visitors and when we got out we know why. By now the rain had stopped and there was even blue sky. But the wind was ferocious, and you could really only stand behind the bus, shielded from the wind.
Nossi and Marjo went looking for wood, he had a ball. Marjo grew by two inches and Nossi was dancing. We thought that the place was bewitched but logic prevailed. The claylike soil was wet and clumped under their soles that made Marjo taller and Nossi very nervous about the sudden weight on his paws.

Dotti and I made a fire which got interesting results with the hard wind and wet wood.

Now we are in the bus, the dogs asleep (Nossi nightmares of Dotti stealing his food – which she did and Dotti in heaven after finding bones everywhere and having stolen Nossi’s food) and Marjo and I not far from it. We had a nice dinner with rice, beef and veggies and coffee after. Life is good!

Going to bed with rain and waking up with more is no fun, even if the location is stunning (who cares about facilities).

So we opened the iPad, inquired BOM (bureau of meteorology) and worked out that as long as we would go West the weather should improve. Now, 270 km more west, on the other side of the dividing range it is still rainy and we have lost the confidence in the BOM. We were first going to stop at a powered campsite with warm showers near Inglewood but when we arrived we saw some neatly arranged campervans and caravans close to the highway and the rail line and thought “no”. The next option is Goondiwindi, a favourite place of Marjo but too far west. The rain brought us here and after more probing I found out that the name was the major part of the attraction.

It doesn’t seem much of a place and the camping is not much different from the one in Inglewood sans railway line. We are all neatly camped side by side and everyone of the habitants is inside their caravan or camper watching television with the airco/heater on. We seem to be the only two sitting outside. The rain and cold plus a lack of airco and television could have something to do with it too. The awning keeps us dry and clothes keep us warm, not more we need. The only attraction to this place is the hot shower, we will have two, one just finished, the other tomorrow morning before we will leave for a bush setting. We both prefer the nature above the facilities. Not that we have to complain: we have power, water (fresh, hot and grey), gas, toilet, king bed and watch tv series on our iPads when it is too wet to play with fire. We cold even have a shower but never do as it consumes too much water. Also it makes the toilet wet and no one likes to sit on a wet toilet, at least we don’t.

Dotti is much better now. She eats her meals, drinks well and sleeps a lot. It is hard to know if she is taking advantage of the attention because every night she sits in front of the door and wags her kangaroo strength tail (which sounds like beating of a drum on the bus floor) and we get up (Marjo more than I) to let her go outside to do what she needs to do but I think we will play blind and deaf tonight. Glad she doesn’t read this blog.

So now at close to 8 pm we are sitting outside looking at another massive caravan at silent satellite television meanwhile drinking coffee and blogging (me), and emailing (Marjo) while the dogs lie on their beds (Dotti outside and Nossi inside). We have worked out where we will be going tomorrow.

The weather has not worked very well for photos so apologies for a somewhat bleak post.

What does one do on a day like this….. It all started out normally, Dotti not too harsh on our sleep and Axel actually surprised by breakfast in bed. And apart from a disgusting deed (about that later) he did nothing that deserves mentioning in this post. All the kudos are for Marjo. Not Nossi, who barely left the bus, not Dotti (well she ate her breakfast and dinner) but otherwise nothing to write home about.

Home, interesting word, not sure about its definition (the app says A place someone permanently lives with his or her family) but in our case does it apply to the bus? It doesn’t feel like home although Marjo definitely has made every effort to make it as much as possible that way. Well, that was not what I wanted to talk about though.

Marjo deserves kudos because she is brilliant with art, sits under a rainy awning and draws the most beautiful artworks, in this case mandalas and all from her mind. No examples, just imagination. That’s not all; even when it rains all day she keeps a positive view on everything. Not like those unrealistic sweet comments, but a positive spin. Thirdly she cares about and for all. Be it that Dotti doesn’t walk again in the creek, or Axel gets the most amazing dinners, inspiring lunch ideas, the yummiest snacks and making sure that everyone is comfortable and looked after. I love her to bits.

About that disgusting deed…..before The Rain (the one that lasted most of the day) we went looking for some firewood which is here in abundance. The bush we are camping in is poorly maintained. Vines have overgrown everything and kill trees that are kept upright by the vines. It gives it a bit of a mystical feel but also means that dead trees are dry (not rotten on the ground) and can be reasonably easy cut down. The hardest part is getting them out from the vines.

Marjo had seen one close to our camping spot and I went investigating equipped with handsaw. This tree was fallen down but actually stayed alive whilst growing 10 cm above and horizontally with the ground. While walking around I suddenly heard a loud “pop” under my left foot and turned around. I was suddenly met by the most gruesome smell and had to walk away. My foot sole was covered with some milky slime smelling so foul, we could smell it from over 10 meters away, even after washing my shoe.
It started to rain which resolved most of the smell problem, but when Dotti later went for one of her pee walks, she came back covered in the same smell. She seems to have a knack for getting herself in trouble.
Then we had to investigate where this came from and whether it was not poisonous, since Dotti’s face was covered in the slime. We deducted it back to a Stinkhorn; a relative harmless but smelly mushroom. Accordingly to those who know, you should be very careful with them: “Never eat, or even pick stinkhorns in New Guinea, where the Iban people (former headhunters) call it ghost penis fungus. It’s the member of a warrior who was decapitated in battle, and the twice-mutilated fighter will rise from the ground and pursue you until he cuts off your head with his headhunting sword!”

With that bombshell (you can tell that I watched Topgear on the iPad all day), sleep well.

Today a sleep in, we were a bit annoyed when Dotti was ready to get out again and also Nossi was eager for food, but when we looked at the clock it was already 8.25 am. That’s late in camping speak. Generally we’re up at light and start yawning at dark. Then we fool around for another couple of hours with twigs, sticks and logs and try to evade clouds of smoke to get a little warm. I am sure that the GPS and the fire are working together to get life challenging, but we’re tougher. Hah!

This was our last day in Darlington park. It was a bit too organized for us and too many people. Also not bushy enough. Our neighbours Geoff and Elizabeth were nice but after having heard about their past, their kids and married family as well as their plans until September next year we thought it was time to go.

So we packed up and by ten were ready for the road. Geoff had all kind of useful tips for next campings but being over 50 we can concentrate only on one thing and we remembered their names but forgot all his tips other than that you should always camp at least 5 km out of a town to avoid local invasions. There must be some truth in that as the Uralla Fossicking area is within that radius of Uralla.

The trip to Aratula went without any remarkable events. We stopped at Beaudesert for a coffee that I was supposed to get while Marjo stayed with the dogs in the bus. Half an hour later (could be a bit more) I came back with a coffee plunger, my favourite muesli (Woollies Strawberry) and oat and raisin cookies from Woolworths, bread and white chocolate from Aldi and a new axe from the local farm supplies store. Oh and the coffee with a smile from the friendly girl. With that same smile she charged $5.50 a coffee and that’s when I decided to get the plunger so for the same $11 we can make 100 organic cuppa’s.

Then onto Boonah where Marjo found a new version of the Camping guide (we upgraded from version 2 to version 6), Templin where we admired the historic village and got hold up by cows on the road. Different from the cows on Lamington National Park road on the way not to Darlington park, these were herded by two guys, a four wheel drive and a yapping dog. Nice to see, inclusive of the cow dung squashed by the tires of the bus.

Less nice was the camouflage of the trailer afterwards. We’ll see how long it sticks.

Not much later we arrived in Aratula, sounds a bit like they should have a Khomeini. But they just had a gate with signs that booking was necessary. We are Dutch and have no manners so just open the gate and drive up. A lady as tall as my fingernail and white like the bus used to be came up to us with a rueful look on her face. She just had two days of motocross kids and was about to chainsaw a tree for firewood for a group next week. She spoke kinda loud, perhaps hoping that over 50 and all we would be hard of hearing. We asked if she had spots away from all the noise and she said that we had to look for ourselves, but wasn’t sure our bus could make the nice spots.

Marjo and Nossi went scouting and found a reasonable spot so I got the bus. I told the white pinksize lady and she said that if the old bus could make it that far there would be an even nicer spot further down the trail.

Driving to the original spot Marjo had found the same and now we’re just lighting a fire on the side of a creek, the dogs on their beds, Marjo a wine and me sipping a New.

Now, a nice bus made (home made sounds better) pumpkin soup we are both catching up on email and such using iPads and the 1 bar of phone reception. T h a t     m a k e s     e v e r y t h i n g    g o    v e r y     s l o w . . . .

Dotti was recovering. We thought. Well tonight she still needed to get out and of course it was a clear night and 4 degrees. That was measured in the bus, so imagine the temperature outside. Since she is tough as a nail and beautiful like no one I know, Marjo got the benefit of going twice and I once. So it was only fair that I made breakfast. You know the drill by now with as only variant crisp bread (for the Dutch readers: Beschuit).
We ate that in bed as the sun was just only now defrosting the soil and our beds were still nice and warm. Nossi thought so too and settled under the top blanket between us. We imagined that the 7 hours up and down hill through 52 blind curves did Dotti’s stomach much good so we decided to stay another night. That meant work today. meanwhile it got 26 degrees and we were comfortably in shorts and a shirt.

First we needed to pay the camp fees. Second we had barely any dried firewood and third I still had to do my final expenses. No idea what that last had to do with the rest but Marjo had some good reason to bring it up.
Marjo got with Nossi for a walk and got some sticks, nice to start a fire. Then she did a bigger loop around the camping and returned with some bits of solid wood left behind by people who only camped for a night. During the day it seemed that the majority of the camping people had that idea and now only a few diehards are left. And the homeless like us.
The idea to gather the left overs from others sounded good to me and I did a tour as well. Of course I got the log that measured 40 cm thick and about 70 cm long, iron bark, weighing a ton. I got Marjo’s bike and the guy who left it to us had to see me take it. I barely got the log off the ground but managed to get it on the back of the bike. He hoped I would get on the front and fall which would have given him hysterical fun but I couldn’t give him the satisfaction and walked back, the bike guided by hand. Twice I almost dropped the log but we arrived safely back at the bus.

There the process of slicing started. Two blisters, one broken axe handle and many curses later the 70 centimeters was reduced to half and the missing half reduced to slices of wood ready for the fire. Amazing how something trivial before like pieces of wood for a fire can suddenly mean quite a bit. That evening I was proud to offer my slices of wood to the tongues of fire, while at the same time feeling sad to see it consumed. The warmth was welcome though as it was another friggin cold night.

That afternoon was a multitude of activities, Marjo and Nossi went for a walk where Nossi met with horses, Axel played guitar and is trying to pick up songs he could play before such as Hotel California (Eagles), Everybody Hurts (R.E.M) and Better be home soon (not going to happen).

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Marjo took her bike on her maiden voyage; she thought if it can take a log twice my weight, I can probably trust it.

The creek is quite a bit down a grass hill and makes nice gurgling sounds, nice to listen too, and stimulating for the waterworks. Dotti thought so to and before going to sleep for the night she decided that it was very inviting, walked down, turned into an unplanned run and plunged into the cold river water. Marjo was handy to fish her out and dried her off as good as possible. That night she had to go out 4 times which makes us wish harder and harder that she recovers soon.

Wooyung has been our longest stop with 3 nights and today we decided that the Queensland school holiday crowd was too much for us to stay.

We very much enjoyed the beach and the spot but the crowd at the beach this morning is something we just don’t enjoy any more. I mean four people on the beach is just too much to handle 😉
Nevertheless Nossi was eager to go and pulled me ahead and of course I was entertained by his zoomies.

Dotti meanwhile recovered somewhat, she woke us up by a repeating drum of her wagging tail on the bus floor, drank water and ate half her breakfast consisting of rice, pumpkin and chicken.

Then it was packing up and at around 10 am we were on the road. Somehow we need to improve our route performance. We can blame the wicked GPS but I guess we need to be a bit more diligent if we don’t want to make it a habit to arrive at a new spot after dark. Today was no exception which means we were on the road for 7 hours and covered 178 km. this is what happened:

First we went the wrong way out of the camping. Marjo will say: I told you so, but that is just nonsense. My gut feel is much more reliable than the GPS. A bit like my thumb measure. The GPS is your best friend though and it found an alternative route 🙂

Then the GPS got it somewhat wrong, it suggested a turn where there were only bushes and then wanted to continue for 15 km where we just could cross the Pacific Highway and get the onramp. This is where I went wrong and at a very crowded and confusing roundabout I took the highway south instead of north. Ah well, what do you do. Then 10 km further we could turn off, cross and get back on the highway north. We steadily refused the suggestions from the GPS to make u-turns on the highway. Even I know that is for emergency vehicles only.

So 45 minutes later we were not much further than when we left the camping. From there it went reasonably smooth. Saturday morning, the first day of school holidays is not really the time to drive around Tweed Heads and traffic was dense. We left the territory of NSW at 10.56 am and at he same time entered the Queendom of Queensland. The highway was perfect though and we got smoothly through to the turnoff for South Nerang. That’s where we would go shopping for groceries. Ah well, plans are only that, a wise man once said. We only saw a man operated roundabout where we had to wait for 30 minutes before it was our turn (in reality it was probably 3 minutes but it felt long. We stopped for fresh produce and a coffee and then continued on our way to Beaudesert.
We stopped in the bikie town of Canungra and bought groceries, wine and beer and canvassed the local hardware store. I won’t admit it, but my hours of mirror repairs meant that all the way the only thing visible through the passenger side mirror was the road up close. So my new parts will go towards an improved mirror design. Patent pending.

In Canungra we got lunch (fish and chips with more questions than I’m used to in Sydney: what fish, whiting or barramundi or … or … – what chips, thick cut or thin cut….what salt: plain, sea or chicken?) and at the local gas station some new water. Well, that was the idea. When asking the attendant she went away for 5 minutes and came back saying that it would be too difficult. I said, no problem. I’ll do it all and will only take 5 minutes. Then she said that is not something the station could afford. And I said I’m happy to pay for the 40 liters tap water. All 2 cents or so. Then she said I should talk to the supervisor. I waited for the supervisor. She tried to avoid me and when I cornered her she said that she needed to consult management. After 5 minutes she came back from the phone and said that she was very sorry but that the station could not help but that we could go to the local park and get it from a tap there. Great service in these Queensland servo’s. Well, the tap in the park was an option, if you carry a 100 meter hose or learn the bus how to jump fences. Suddenly fresh water became a mission and we scourged Canungra for an available tap. We asked people who must have thought we were kinda strange, these two semi Dutch semi Australians driving around in a snow camouflage bus looking for water. Finally we found a tap on the local sports grounds, parked the bus in get away mode because it felt kinda not allowed and filled her up with water.

I think I said it before but am now convinced that the GPS is out to make life as difficult as possible for us. From Canungra it lead us over the Lamington National Park road which is pittoresque. By now you know my definition of that word: bends, hills and this time also “blind curves – prepare to stop”. The road went up this steep hill, with 26 blind curves, many one lane sections, pieces of road where the bus fitted just between the trees, grates tht turned the road into paddocks complete with cows and two GPS advised turns that were non-existent.

Finally it lead us down Sandy Creek road. Yes. Well. Sandy indeed…..creek too….the road was a rutted track with a sign: 4WD only, road inhabitable after rain. And it had rained the night before. So no hope in a 100 years would I send down Sandy Creek road the bus with two dogs and my wife. Let alone with myself in it. Turning around was no option either, so we were hoping that the road would lead to some other option further down. Not quite. We arrived at around 3.30 pm at a national park on the top complete with visitor centre. Dogs not allowed.
What this meant was 26 blind curves down and an extra 98 km to make it to Darlington Park. As penalty we closed down the GPS and went it alone. Back in Canungra we turned it back on but were forewarned. So when it told us to take a turn on some small road we looked sharp and noticed the sign “no through road” and ignored the GPS for the rest of the trip.

We arrived, after dark of course, just missing two kangaroos that were sitting ducks on the road, at Darlington Park that was full with holidaying Queenslanders and walked around to find a spot. In the end we settled near a water pump close to the creek and after dinner and coffee went to bed. Tired but satisfied….we finally beat the GPS.

Marjo likes variation and she deserves it. Now before you get any thoughts, we are still on the subject of food here. If you’re planning to meet us somewhere and want to surprise her with breakfast you need to know the following. In the morning with breakfast she has generally two decent sized sandwiches. No toast (unless you leave it out in the sun too long). Each sandwich gets halved which makes four half sandwiches. And each gets it own topping and then cut in four bite size quarters. Choices are ham, salami, peanut butter with honey, peanut butter with a slice of banana, cheese with a smudge of Vegemite, pâté with a slice of cucumber, jam. You could be brave and invent your own topping combination. And three times a week a boiled egg. And black coffee.
Of course you could also treat her on bacon and eggs, hashbrowns and baked beans.
That followed by a cigarette ensures a great start of a perfect day.
Axel is a lit less adventurous. I’m sure Marjo will let you know.

This night was a typical sick dependent night. Marjo went out twice with a sick Dotti and I did once and took them at 7 am for another walk. Dotti was content with a walk around the camping ground and refused any further ventures. She plainly sat down as if to say: “this is as far as I go”. After returning her to the bus, Nossi and I went for the beach. Across the road and a little path we came to the perfect beach. As far as the eye can see (yes, I know, I need glasses) and wide enough with easy waves. Where in Crescent head the water was pinky size cold, here it is mellow warm. Perfect!
And finally the quarter falls. I have been all night pondering why the bathrooms are called “mangoes” and “no mangoes”. I was thinking, perhaps men are supposed to be brave and bravery is measured by their parts that women don’t possess. But of the size of this big fruit? Well perhaps the men are very brave in northern NSW. Now I understand! The water doesn’t ever get very cold, even in winter, so no reason for northern NSW men’s bravery tools to shrivel up and hence the size of mangoes.
Then again, you can also use Marjo’s explanation of “Man Goes” and “No Man Goes”. But that’s just logic and would require the use of left brain cells……
I admit, having a lot of time does that to you, over analyzing stuff.

Hitting the sand Nossi went nuts and did his zoomies as Niki calls them, running at full speed circles, looking crazy eyed and enjoying himself immensely.

I’m now having my less adventurous breakfast sitting outside in the sun, bird screams around me (in Australia birds don’t twitter or play nice tunes, they scream or laugh at you) and Dotti on the ground trying to stay awake but every time I can see from the corner of my eye her head drop bit by bit until the next noise her head jerks back up. The same you see in airplanes with fellow passengers. Finally she doses off.

Around us people are starting to wake up. Pay their visit to where mangoes or no mangoes or driving off to some destination.

Marjo finished her breakfast and is coming outside to have a smoke and finish her coffee. Enough writing for the morning; beach here we come!

We decided to make a little adjustment for the day. Dotti is more serious sick than we thought. She hasn’t moved all day apart from hiding under the bus and taking on a little water. We therefore moved the bus to the less structured part of the camping (nojuice…..hmmm, doesn’t sound the least as creative as no mangoes) for those not needing external power and have better view, less people and car movement and a better view.
This also to do a little bus mechanical work. The mirror on the passenger side is under sized and in no way I can see the curb on that side with parking, which leads to comical situations of moving 10 cms, stopping the bus, handbrake, get out, walk around, observe, judge, estimate, back behind the wheel, go again 10 cms, etc. etc. That’s how you end up with the bus perfectly parked, level and so, but accidentally with the door opening facing a tree (Uralla continued). So a new mirror mounted and a special shaped curb view mirror. Took me more than an hour to puzzle with bits and pull out all the stops on our trailer, the shed-on-wheels.

Also fixed the toilet. Now before I co any further, those with weak stomachs and just about to have dinner, lunch or breakfast skip the italic part: The toilet works with a cassette that holds everything yuck. Quite neatly the cassette can be removed from the bus on the outside through a little hatch. Removing the cassette closes a slide that seals the opening to the entry where everything yuck enters. Also there’s a turning knob that slides a round disc against a seal from inside the cassette to close off the cassette from the inside, so the when the cassette sits in the bus the cassette is still closed and only opens when you want to flush. The turning knob slides neatly in a handle on the toilet cover so as user of the toilet you never see or touch the cassette. After this somewhat long intro I’ll explain the problem: after years of use the disc mechanism got somewhat stiff and didn’t close fully and requires more purposeful closing of the handle. By the way, there’s still a chance to skip over the not so nice part…. So when driving with the disc not fully sealing the yuck probably splashed between the disc and the seal and covered the floor of the bathroom. The first few times we only had water in the cassette (after emptying and cleaning we leave a bit of water and throw in some nappisan (for non Australians: that is strong but environmentally friendly washing powder). So we mistakenly took the water on the bathroom floor for leaking flush water. After moving the bus from juice to nojuice it was clear that this had nothing to do with flush water. Yuck. Hopefully it is fixed now.
While I had the job of fixing the cassette Marjo offered to clean the yuck from the bathroom floor.
Marjo went with Nossi to the beach and took some nice pictures.

Great plans are only that….. The day started with Dotti not well. In the middle of the night she needed to get out, as most men I have a sixth sense that makes me deaf and blind at nights when children or pets demand help from adults. So Marjo took charge and helped the poor dog outside. Nossi analysed the situation and felt that there needed to be balance so to penalize me she quickly jumped on the bed and under the doona, of course on my half……

In the morning Dotti was sick again, this time it was only 7 am, outside of the active hours of my sixth sense, so I got up and took both dogs for a walk. It was still cold and foggy, close to the river near Jackadgery, which made for some nice pictures.

I fed the dogs; Dotti wasn’t hungry and Marjo had meanwhile arranged breakfast. Great teamwork.

We sat down near the river and looked for our next stop. We decided that the Rummery camping ground a nice bush camping in Whian Whian State Forest would be our next stop. We checked to make sure it was no National Park, rang the accompanied information line, checked online and all seemed ok. As fail safe we even looked at the nearby Camp Old Cottage park.

We left early to have plenty of time and arrive once at daylight and took the winding road to Grafton and from there via the Pacific Highway up the coast. The navigator helped us find the most obscure little dirt roads and several times we are convinced that it leads us down the most pittoresque (and winding, hilly and bumpy) dirt roads. It was a very nice trip though, through the rolling hinterlands of Byron, Bangalow and other hippy towns. We stopped on the way to get a new bigger mirror, for coffee and teacake (with apple, yummy) and also for a Dotti stop under Macademia trees. Of course we couldn’t stop ourself cleaning up a little and ended up with half a kilo of Macademia nuts.

Everywhere along the road people are offering produce, all very healthy, macro biotic, vegan, organic and more. Prices are in line with these special features and we felt a bit guilty when we saw a sign for 100 grams of Macademia nuts for $7. Ah well.

The roads got narrower and narrower, with many 25kph turns, bridges and through vine covered tree archways. Very nice and leading up to a beautiful setting for Rummery. Finally we reached the turn to the camping and we were not disappointed. Or? we tried hard to ignore the sign “NO DOGS” and almost convinced ourselves and other camping users that it was only for the north side of the camping. Then we found the camping information board with a large section about domestic pets not allowed.
Finally we decided to go for the backup plan: Camp Old Cottage park only 3 km up the road. After more dirt road with potholes and curves we arrived at three big stumps next to the road preventing vehicle access. I walked up the path behind the stumps and walked into some youth camp with 20 or more 17y old girls and as many tents and cooking pots. Finally we had phone reception and contacted Whian Whian State Forest management. This time someone answered and told us that because Whian Whian is a State Forest Conservation Area no pets are allowed and there was no camping near by.
So much for careful planning.

Maps open, camping books reviewed, internet on…..so we found Wooyung Camping near Pottsville. On the coast. Pet friendly. We wanted to make sure and called them only to find out that the camping management has their day off on Wednesday….today.
The pittoresque and winding roads, rolling hills and pretty sights lost a lot of their charm on the 65 km between Rummery and Wooyung. Certainly now it got later and darker and we were happy to reach the Wooyung caravan park.

Now, with a belly full of nice dinner (compliments to Marjo), a Gin and Tonic, a warm fire and the sound of rolling waves, everything seems like a past dream. I’m sure we will wake up with the sun and have a ball on the beach tomorrow with the dogs.

Sleep tight 🙂