It took us a while to get our “rig” together. When we road-tested it at the Russell Ranch at Gingin in searing 42C heat (why? I don’t know why!) we discovered we had been given the wrong tent poles, which explained why the annex kept looking like an Indian tepee every time we tried to put it up. We kept the camper erected in the front yard to give the neighbours van-envy and mercifully, a week before our scheduled departure, Perth experienced an unseasonal summer downpour which revealed some subtle leaks in the canvas cover. One of these was directly above MY head such that I would have undergone the Chinese Water Torture the first time it rained on us. So it was back to the workshop to fix that.
One last hiccup occurred the day before we left. This was the day to load up the gear in preparation for a quick escape on Monday. Unfortunately I got mixed up with bad company on the Saturday night (you know who you are) – there was red wine involved – and frankly I was rendered useless the whole of Sunday, leaving Maurs to do the lion’s share of the packing. I could manage small bursts of activity but this was interspersed with long periods of lying on the bed, moaning and cursing (you know who you are). Maurs was surprisingly good-humoured about all this, maybe she’s keeping her powder dry for now.
Sufficiently recovered on Monday we left as planned and made for our friends’ place (Keith and Trudy) in Bridgetown. Now I am notoriously crap at backing into places and Maurs and I have yet to work out a system, but Keith talked and guided me into a good site fairly effortlessly. I got out of the vehicle and said, “Maurs you’re out, Keith you’re in!” He declined my kind offer – said he had work to do or something – so Maurs is still in the vehicle.
After Bridgey we made for Coalmine Beach just outside of Walpole on the south coast of WA. It is a beautiful caravan park and we extended our stay to two days in the hope that I’ve read the weather maps correctly and we stay in the cooler air as we dash across the Nullarbor. Now there’s a challenge. We arrived just on lunchtime on Tuesday and the owners were putting on a sausage sizzle and pancake lunch for Valentine’s Day. I feel nothing says I love you more than a sausage sizzle and the grey nomad inhabitants of the park obviously agreed. It was every man for himself but we managed a sausage and a pancake each and came away relatively unharmed.
I don’t know if they’re called March Flies or Marsh Flies but the ones down here are massive and have a huge proboscis that penetrates all clothing. Man they bite, and they’re coated in Kevlar so that when you swat them they just fly off...laughing! It’s hard to get your ten hours rest in the middle of the day with those babies around. Still, we’re trying.
A selection of dead March/Marsh Flies for your viewing pleasure
We’re heading east!!
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