Our Australia trip

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Posted from Midge Point, Queensland, Australia.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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.