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Now where’s the rain?

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On Easter Sunday we bid farewell to the Jacaranda City, its bendy bridge and showery weather, to make the steady climb to cross the Gibraltar Range at 1170 metres elevation. The view isn’t much as we are in the clouds until we descend to the Northern Tablelands on the western side.  At one point I check the fuel consumption and the Toyota is gobbling 40 litres/100 kms as it drags the caravan up the steep sections.  And diesel is about $AUS1.50 a litre.

We have our first ‘unsupported’ night in an overnight camp. We pull off the highway to a large rest area beside a stream, surrounded by paddocks. There are a few horses, some cattle and a few kangaroos.  We hear dogs barking in the distance.  No power or water so we are self-sufficient. The gas runs the fridge when we’re not hooked up to power, and the stove top and barbecue are gas anyway.  A couple more caravans turn up during the evening and there’s the usual chat about where you’re headed and where you’ve come from.  As usual, Scott gains a few more tips about the caravan.  Everything works as it should so we’re confident to free camp again.

the hunter-gatherer gathering wine at our overnight spot

We head for the small town of Inverell then south west to Copeton Dam.  The Dam is in 1,400 hectares of State Park and we arrive on Easter Monday as most people are leaving. It’s hard to explain the extent of the waterway which, when full, is 4,600 hectares: three times the size of Sydney Harbour. Unlike Sydney Harbour, it needs rain and they haven’t had much for the past few years so the dam is nowhere near capacity. 

Having set up camp we head off in the car to explore some of the Park’s 1400 hectares.  We find a boat ramp that runs several hundred metres, but the water level is so low it doesn’t come near the ramp. We are a long way further down the track before I look at the nav screen and see we are in the blue bit – by rights we should be under water – or driving an amphibious vehicle. 

somehow we’re not drowning
the high water line is clearly visible and a long way above the water

Our camping spot is in the midst of several caravans peopled by an extended family who have been coming here every Easter for 20 years.  Most of the older guys – well, they’re our age – were involved in building the dam in the 70s. They tell us it’s been at least five years since the dam was last full, and at that point it laps the road in front of our campsite.

Though the good old Edmonds Cook Book recommends an oven, it can be done – scones successfully cooked on the barbecue –

Our new acquaintances also tell us to be careful when we go walking in the bush as ticks can fall from the trees. Having freaked us out telling us how the tiny bloodsuckers burrow into your flesh, Lynn casually says “but you’d have to be unlucky to get bitten”.  I feel itchy just thinking about it and have visions of Scott and I examining each other like monkeys after every nature encounter.

A couple of hours later we join the family at the fire pit for drinks, and what do we find? Lynn attending to Peter who has a tick buried in his belly. Yep, really unlucky.  They were collecting kindling from under the trees when Peter felt a bite on his belly.  While Peter pinches his flesh to stop the tick burrowing deeper,  Lynn dabs on Tea Tree oil, which apparently smothers the tick.  It is then extracted with tweezers along with the advice “be careful not to break off the head”. Break off the head? The bloody thing is the size of half an ant.

At least now we’ve seen one and know what to do: I buy Tea Tree Oil in anticipation.  However I must look like a Lady Grantham clutching her pearls whenever we are under trees, as I hold tight the neck of my shirt .

apparently these jumping jacks are full of ticks as well

A Highland Fling and a Bendy Bridge

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A rainy Easter is no fun for anyone: not for holidaymakers, kids on school vacation, and not for tourist operators who suffer when the last big Summer weekend of the season is a washout – literally.  That’s the fate of many northern New South Wales coastal towns this year.

We’d planned to avoid the big coastal towns over Easter anyway, and count ourselves lucky when a showery Grafton clears up on Easter Saturday and provides a beautiful day for the Highland Gathering down the road at Maclean.

Maclean of Duart

Maclean must surely be the only town the world where all the power poles are painted tartan.  Aside from decorative poles, there’s little else to distinguish Maclean from other small towns on the shores of the magnificent Clarence River.

But the Highland Gathering draws a decent crowd to the Showgrounds.  You know you’re at a country event when the slightly nauseating aroma of stewed onions and barbecued sausages assails you.  Where’s the haggis and mashed swede?

The competition between what seems like many, many pipe bands (actually 20) isn’t as tortuous as I fear. They each have five minutes and play classics such as Me Clotch is Awee! Geese In The Bog, and Last Tango in Harris. It’s fair to say we don’t find anything to sing along to.  

The highland dancing is fun to watch for a while, especially when the littlies come out and show some footwork that is perhaps, not specified in the standards. 

only one of these four can be in time

Yet best of all, there’s the highland Sports Events. Ahh, the sports. Putting the Stone, which is shot-put by any other name, and the Farmer’s Walk – this involves being timed over a set distance carrying a couple of logs. Presumably in older times this was a couple of sheep or puny Englishmen.

For us the much anticipated Caber Toss was a treat – I had to look up the origins, for what possible use could this be?  Loggers used the technique to ford streams, so being able to toss the log straight, so it falls at the 12 o’clock position is key. Otherwise the log falls in the stream and all is lost.  

Men and women compete in all events, but one – for men the Hammer throw and for women the Haggis Hurl. Which I think you’ll agree sounds more like what happens after a hard night out. It is a real haggis, strongly wrapped, but I’m told one year it exploded.

Maclean is about 35 kms east of Grafton, and Grafton has one of the few fixed crossings over the vast Clarence River.  Aside from the Murray, the Clarence is the largest river in Australia south of the Tropic of Capricorn. We decide to take the northern side of the river and cross by cable ferry closer to Maclean, just for the hell of it. 

It beggars belief that the only bridge for miles is what the locals call “the bendy bridge”, and snicker into their hands when they hear you are towing a caravan. The bendy bridge is heritage listed was built in 1932, before articulated trucks, caravans and other long vehicles. It is a standard two car width and has sharp angled approaches – the bendy bits – at either end.  It is built above the original rail bridge and the approaches come from roads parallel to the rail lines.  It makes for interesting driving.  When locals see a big vehicle coming towards them on a bend they stop and give plenty of room. When tourists see a big vehicle coming around the corner on their side of the road their eyes widen in terror. 

It’s hard to capture how terrifying this is when a huge truck is coming towards you

Aside from the bendy bridge, Grafton is famous for two things: the first town in northern NSW, founded in 1851 and the Jacaranda Festival, held in October/November every year since 1935.  It must be beautiful to be here when the hundreds of jacaranda trees lining the very wide streets are full of their purple blooms. 

In the meantime, it’s mostly purple prose as you drive across the bendy bridge.

And where there’s a river there’s fish. And where’s there’s fishing there’s Scott.

Rain or shine, you can’t keep the hunter-gatherer down

Two weeks in

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It’s our anniversary: two weeks since we took possession of the caravan. So far no more hitches, small or otherwise. The trip to our second stop was mercifully uneventful, and this week we’ve been staying near Lennox Head in northern New South Wales.

Lennox Head is known as one of Australia’s top 10 surf beaches: it’s kilometres long with soft, white squeaky sand and is, quite simply, stunning. The swimming is great with the water still warm at about 25 C, and we enjoy watching the surfers, skilled and unskilled, in their never-ending search for the perfect wave. I left the water when I saw them putting out what I thought were shark drum lines (see below), but which were, in fact, only buoys for a competition later in the day.

The baited drum lines were already in the water.

Looking out to Lennox Head from the lookout

As with all Australian beaches, beauty comes with warnings.

We’ve spent the week dodging rain showers as there have been downpours on and off every day. In between we manage some coastal walks along the headlands, some swims, and a couple of forays into Ballina to buy supplies, go to dinner for our birthdays, and buy new bikes. I’m sure it will come as some surprise to you to learn Scott was keen to go to the Maritime Museum.

This turns out to be fascinating in one respect. We had never heard of Las Balsas and I suspect you haven’t either. Forget the Kon-Tiki, this is a much greater feat. In 1973, twelve guys and three cats set off on three balsa wood rafts (4 guys and one cat on each) to sail from Guayaquil, Ecuador to Mooloolaba in Queensland. The point was to prove that early navigators understood the winds and current of the Pacific and could have sailed to the Pacific Islands. Light winds towards the end of the journey saw them drift south and land at Ballina, having travelled 14,000 kms in 179 days. One remaining raft is in the Maritime Museum and there’s a great film “The Pacific Challenge” documenting the trip. Fun fact – Salvador Dali donated an original artwork for the sails and it was sold to raise funds for the trip. I still want to know what happened to the cats.

The one remaining raft at rest in the Ballina Maritime Museum – art by Salvador Dali

This morning we leave our site near Lennox and come into Ballina as Scott gets delivery of his bike today. He had booked a drive through site – no need to unhitch and set up the caravan – as we plan only one night.

As we drive into the caravan park he has selected, I hear the theme for Deliverance playing even though there’s not a guitar or banjo in sight. While Scott gets out to find someone to ask where to park, I dial another caravan park and tell them we’ll be there in 15 minutes. Scott doesn’t argue.

The charming playground at the Methamphetamine Inn
The well kept utilities block at the same location

A hitch or two to start the trip

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We fly into Brisbane and are on the right side of Australian Customs racial profiling and go through the green lane. It is straightforward to take the train to the end of the Gold Coast line and within a few minutes Jeff turns up with our Toyota Land Cruiser – as advertised and as promised. By the way, change of ownership which is free in New Zealand, cost us $3000. This is known as a LCT – luxury car tax.

So far, so good. What could go wrong? Quite a few things actually, both large and small.

The mighty Toyota and caravan set up at Tallebudgera

We have a no drama trip towing the caravan from the sales yard to the Tallebudgera where we plan to spend the first 4 days. It’s only about 10 kms but I manage to give Scott plenty of advice on towing, which I’ve no experience in whatsoever. Actually, it’s more along the lines of: are you ok? how does the car feel? watch out for the traffic light, shouldn’t you brake now? don’t cut the corner. Those of you who know Scott know he is man of almost infinite patience so we arrive still speaking. I’ve watched a video entitled “How to park a caravan without getting a divorce”, so the parking goes well.

Ready for its new owners – scottandbevgocaravanning

Tallebudgera Creek Tourist Park is a beautiful place well situated on Tallebudgera Creek – no surprise there – which is more of a river mouth, and the ocean of Palm Beach. The park isn’t very full but this will change at the weekend when school holidays start.

looking towards the river mouth and down Palm Beach from Burleigh Heads.

Having successfully parked, levelled, connected water and power, and organised the grey water disposal, the only thing that remains is getting the awning out and the annex (aka outdoor room) up. We’ve been led to believe erecting the annex is akin to building the pyramids and that it would take as long.

As we’re short a few thousand slaves, we are lucky to meet Dave and Michelle who are parked a few bays further down. “No worries” is Dave’s mantra and he leads us through the pyramid building in short order – where short order is a couple of hours rather than all day. He is also the source of a ladder, a drill, advice about towing and weight distribution hitches and much else. Michelle introduces me to all the useful apps for caravanning, including those for locating the best fuel prices, weather forecasts, and emergency assistance – the last of which we hope never to need. They are a great couple and very generous with their time, providing enormous help to us novices.

Sadly Dave and Michelle won’t be travelling with us to lend tools and a helping hand.

It’s at this point we realise how much other “stuff” we need that we hadn’t anticipated. We extend our stay at Tallebudgera another 3 days and spend our time going to outdoor equipment stores, BBQ outlets, kitchen and storage solutions stores, supermarkets, technology outlets, and I’m fairly sure I do my 10,000 steps every day simply going up and down the aisles of Bunnings.

Annex successfully erected, ready for a drink

It’s when I am stashing stuff in cupboards I notice the first hitch – three of the cupboards lack an internal catch – visions of spilled contents. We call New Age to tell them about the oversight, and after some disbelief on their part – they require photographic evidence – Rodney comes and installs the necessary catches while dispensing advice on what he thinks are the best caravan parks. Analysis reveals his preferences – there is a strong correlation with proximity to RSL or Bowling Clubs.

So after a week of getting organised, stocking the caravan and getting into the travelling mindset, we are ready to move on. The first step is to reverse the process of setting up. We take down the annex and pack everything up. Anything loose inside is secured and, as advised, we work through a checklist to make sure we don’t drive off with the power still plugged in or the tow hitch not correctly connected. In fact, our first stop is the tow bar shop to get, as Dave our consultant in all things caravan advises, a weight distribution hitch. This does what it says on the box. It evens the weight distribution across the car by putting more load on the front wheels – handy, as this impacts steering.

So we head off to the tow bar fitter quietly congratulating ourselves on how well we’re doing. Ha Ha. Small hitch. Scott notices the little outside table which folds down from the side of the van and needs to be locked up for travel, is flapping in the breeze. We stop on a bus stop, Bev runs back and unlocks caravan, grabs the keys, locks table in place, locks caravan, runs back to car. We agree if that’s the worst to happen we’ll be doing well.

But worse is to come.

Towing mechanisms in place and $990 later we are on our way but for another small hitch. The fridge has three power sources: it operates off 240 when we are plugged into mains, or shore power as Scott likes to call it, gas when we are parked up with no outside power, and on the alternator of the car when we are driving, so there is constant refrigeration. When we take off driving the fridge isn’t working off the car as it should so we call New Age (again) and they say to call in on our way out of town.

Mark at New Age tests the cabling and we find there’s no connection to the fridge – Jeff had said all the cables were there for caravanning, so we didn’t check. Maybe Jeff doesn’t like cold beer. Ok what do we do? Turns out this needs a couple of hours at the auto electrician. Booked for Wednesday. It’s Monday and we are on our way 100km down the coast. No problem, we can drive back up on Wednesday.

It’s midday and at last we are leaving town and on our way. Or are we? Why isn’t the rear caravan camera working? Mark! Can you have a look please?

Oh dear. A major hitch. When Scott did a tightish U turn in the caravan yard the cables between the car and the caravan got caught in the towing plate. One severed completely, one partially wrecked and one red face. Mark, the workshop guy, is a Kiwi from Maungaraki so gives Scott shit. Lots of it, while reassuring him he isn’t the first and won’t be the last. Fortunately they are great guys and send us away for a couple hours and get Jordan, another Kiwi who is an auto electrician, on to fixing the mess.

oh darn

We bring back beers to say thanks, cadge another small favour, and at 4.00pm hit the road, having left the caravan park at 10.00am.

We are now at a small place called Skenners Head, near Ballina on the NSW north coast. Scott has been back to the auto electrician and another several hundred dollars later we have, all the required connections and plugs sorted. We hope we’ve run out of setting up costs as they seem endless. I know you don’t feel sorry for us – I wouldn’t either!

here’s home

The final countdown

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It’s like moving away from home for the first time – you have nothing, except maybe some sheets and towels your Mum gives you. Except we don’t have Mums. But we do have sheets and towels – more than we need here, so let’s take some with us.

With 5 days (5 days!) to go before we embark on our caravan adventure we have lists:

  • what to take for inside
  • what to take for outside
  • what we need to buy for inside and outside – and this list is very, very long
  • what we need to set up a kitchen
  • basic pantry – thanks Annabel Langbein for your essential holiday list but I don’t think the caravan is big enough
  • emergency stuff – everything in Australia, from the climate to the flora and fauna, wants to kill you
  • oh yes, paying for, registering, and insuring said car and caravan.
and in case of emergencies???

Everything needs to be lightweight. The caravan tare (I’m still not sure if that’s pronounced tear or tarry) is 2,700kg and has a fully loaded capacity of 3,500kg. With water tanks carrying 240kg that leaves 560kg for everything else. Sounds like a lot, but think of the weight of the annex, a couple of outdoor chairs and a table, 2 x 35kg gas bottles, bikes (yes we will get bikes), not to mention food, crockery and cutlery, pots and pans, BBQ, linen, clothes, shoes and so on and so on and so on……..I got a migraine reading about caravan tare, vehicle tare, ATM, GVM, TBM and many, many more acronyms I am sure I’ll be tossing around like tennis balls before I’m much older.

Some things aren’t so important for these first weeks of learning to caravan, though I suspect things about towing are important, as we won’t be too far from civilisation. However, come May when we head off into the wilderness we want to be sure we have what we need for day-to-day and emergencies.

heading off into an emergency?

The current plan is this: fly to Brisbane on the 30th March 2019 and get the train to Burleigh Heads on the southern Gold Coast to collect the Toyota Land Cruiser VX. We send many tens of thousands of dollars to someone who is, I’m sure, a very trustworthy fellow – he will meet us at the train – or not.

Assuming he has gone to South America with our money, and is at the station to meet us, we’ll drive to the caravan sales yard and check out our baby – the New Age 19LE Manta Ray. When we ordered it back in January we also asked for a grey water tank to be fitted, also bike racks and a front tool box. Assuming all is in order, we will go to stay somewhere and reflect on the magnitude of what we have done. There may be hysteria – there will be drinking.

On April Fools’ Day, which I hope isn’t an omen, we pick up the caravan. There’s a half day orientation to its features. A half day. Clearly caravans are as complicated as VCRs once were. Will we need a teenager to explain things to us?

Are we grey nomads?

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After our 3,000km trip from Darwin to Broome in August 2018 we’re so transfixed by the Australian landscape we decide to do what thousands of Australian retirees do: buy a caravan and tour Australia.

The official, and rather pejorative, term for road trippers is “grey nomads” and as more baby boomers retire and enjoy cashed up superannuation there are more and more on the road. Some have sold up everything and live permanently on the road. Others, particularly those in the southern states, just head north over the winter.

It is difficult to find accurate data, but combined camper-van and caravan registrations in the year ending 2016 were 615,301. Yet not all of these travellers are retirees: on our trip last year we met young families where the parents had taken the kids out of school for anything from six months to a year. There are also people who just decide to take a year out, rent their houses out and hit the road.

Us? Well, we flew over to Australia and bought a caravan in January. We’ve bought a Toyota Landcruiser sight unseen – but for the price we paid it better be good! We’ve booked flights to pick everything up on 30 March. The first few weeks we will be learning to caravan. It should be fun!

Is it just stray animals we’ll have to watch out for?