Our Australia trip

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.