Around the West in 90-Odd Days: Days 92-94 (3-5 Oct) In Closing

Homeward bound, at a great rate of knots, with gale force winds on our tail and threats of rain and flash flooding in our path eastwards.

Enjoying a long hot shower at Ceduna, and listening to the classic hits radio station playing in the amenities, the sentimental country songs gave me pause for reflection and not a little nostalgia for John Denvers’ Take me home… country roads… (if you don’t know what this is, I’m officially old).

Yes, our 13 weeks (a bit more, actually) is drawing to a close and it is starting to sink in that we’re heading home and back to the routines and craziness of normal life. Let’s face it, we haven’t had this much time off since … well… probably the summer before we commenced kindergarten sometime last century. And probably won’t again until … well … possibly retirement. A goal post which the government keeps shifting, I might add.

We always wanted to spend three months travelling around Australia, but it always seemed a far-off pipe dream. But as Dave always says “you just have to set the date or it will never happen”. We did set a date – for 2015. Then I broke my legs in 2014 and we decided to put our dreams on hold for another 12 months. Which was kind of a relief because we felt very unprepared anyway, but as the actual date approached – mid-2016 – we felt just as unprepared. We did manage to buy ourselves a caravan five months before the big trip, and even fitted in a couple of shakedown weekends away.

Things hit unprecedented levels of craziness in the weeks before our departure, and actual planning for the trip seemed last on the list of things to do. In the end, Dave drafted a rough timetable, I threw in enough food for 2 weeks, and we hit the road, saying over and over as a protective mantra “if we need anything else we can buy it as we go”.

Yes, there were some teething issues in the form of medical and mechanical mayhem that first week or two, but we tightened the saddle and lurched determinedly forwards. Despite the now infamous incident of the caravan bumper falling off, this little van has been well suited to our trip. We’ve been the envy of some folk who opted for a camper-trailer and then had to contend with the elements, flies and mosquitoes when cooking, not to mention the rain, wind and cold down the west coast. We’ve even hosted a few caravan tours on request in various places (they don’t take very long).

Our journey home has not been uneventful. South Australia had just been hit with its worst storm in 50 years and there were many ramifications, not least the state-wide blackout. In the spirit of Oscar Wilde I would have to say that to lose one region may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose the whole state looks like carelessness. At the township of Kimba, the “halfway point across Australia”, there was still no electricity nearly a week after the big storm, so all shops were shut. Travelers from further east told of being stuck in various towns where they could not withdraw money or buy food, and the fuel station pumps would not operate without power. When the electricity goes, most shops simply don’t open at all, although I heard there were some exceptionally good specials on meat and dairy products in some places (if you had cash).

To make life even more interesting, a second storm front came through a few days later, and flood waters continued to rise in various places. We also knew we didn’t have quite enough fuel to make it right across the State of SA, which was becoming a slight concern. At Port Augusta Dave squeezed the last drops out of the diesel pump at the Shell servo. Many of the other fuels had already run out, as tankers cannot get through from Adelaide to replenish supplies due to the floods. The guy waiting behind us to refuel had to be turned away.

At a roadhouse east of Port Augusta we saw an interesting advertisement: "Camel Milk – Humpalicious!" I don't know if they were serious; I can't imagine who would be brave enough to milk a cantankerous camel. Perhaps this is a local euphemism for a caramel milkshake?

We enjoyed a long lingering lunch in the historic township of Burra after we kind of got distracted in the Town Hall when we discovered some old costumes in the dressing rooms behind the stage with an invitation to "dress-up!" Well, why not. We never pass up a photo op.

East of Morgan, there appeared to be a creature of most peculiar appearance stretched across the width of the highway ahead - it stood quite tall with a long humpy body and many legs, like a giant mutant king-kong of a caterpillar. As we drew closer we were delighted to discover it was a mother emu with 4 adolescents trailing after her. We pulled over to take a closer look, but mother emu immediately moved in front of her young and stared us down. We made the strategic decision to stay in the car, rather than putting on a sideshow for passing motorists of Dave being chased by a mother emu.

We made it through to Renmark, just west of the Victorian border, and were able to refuel there before stopping at a rest area for some late afternoon tea and a quick leg stretch. Large amounts of water were evident on the roadsides, but it had mostly receded from the highway. Hopping back into the car, we were a little stunned to hear a description of our rig and location being broadcast on the short wave radio. Yes, we were trying to flee the State of SA with its lack of power and fuel, but did not think that warranted fugitive status. Though still not entirely sure what this was about, we assume a passing authority was reporting us for being stopped in an area where caravans are not permitted to park overnight. Personally, I think we are the least of their concerns at present. We hit the road again and made it to the relative safely and security of Victoria.

Little did we know things were about to get more exciting in NSW. There was a lot of water near the road on the Hay plain, increasing as we headed towards Narrandera. Then really increasing. Until there was water over the road. And then a lot of water over the road. Traffic controllers were letting only one lane through at a time, with the waters still rising. The highway to our east was still open when we came through, but may not be for much longer. Highways in most other directions have already been cut, including through to Melbourne on the Newell Hwy and alternate routes home via the Griffin Way and Lachlan Valley Way. As we neared Wagga we saw a police boat being towed back towards Narrandera. It's not every day you see police boats on the Sturt Hwy! All around us paddocks have turned into lakes, with pelicans swimming serenely past sheep making their way to higher ground. We are running two days ahead of schedule, which is just as well - we may not have made it through tomorrow.

So here we are, having almost completed our three month loop. In fact by the time you read this, we are most likely home. All that remains is to share some of our last highlights and lowlights.

Low point of the trip: The first week - Dave’s staph infection and knee injury rendering him lame, with both of us suffering heavy colds (his infected toes are finally recovering, but still require regular application of medical creams to keep re-infection at bay).

High point of the trip: The last 12 weeks of the trip.

Dave’s most loved region: The Bungles, Kimberley Region

Liz’s most loved region: Windjana Gorge, Kimberley Region

Dave’s worst regret: Not buying that replacement D-shackle in Wyndham.
History: back in the Bungles, a passing tourist noticed that one of our D-shackles was missing its pin. Dave saw a replacement in Wyndham, but did not buy it, thinking it was the wrong size. We made do with a grossly oversized one we had with us, and we kept looking for places to purchase a replacement, which were few and far between. When he finally found what he thought was the correct size, Dave discovered he had been wrong all along - the Wyndham one would have been perfect, and now we couldn't find another that size. He's consequently developed a tic where he blurts out at random times "Should've bought that D-shackle in Wyndham!"

Liz’s worst regret: Not purchasing hiking poles sooner. I finally bought some in Exmouth, but not until after I'd fallen down Mt Bruce into a spinifex bush. A bit like closing the stable door after the horse has bolted. I have now developed an unreasonable phobia of desert grasses and won't walk past them without clenched fists. I think the last of the spikes have now worked their way out of my hands.

Dave’s favourite purchase: Tuppy the Tortoise in Shark Bay

Liz’s favourite purchase: T-shirt with Renoir’s “The Boating Party” print in Broome

Favourite meal: Unanimous – the Mornington Wilderness Camp dinner. Especially Dave’s chocolate brownie. Pricey but worth it.

We pause here to consider some of the stats for those so interested.

Cheapest fuel: 113.9 cents per litre at Albany on 25 September.
Most expensive fuel: 209.0 cents per litre at Drysdale Station, off the Kalumburu Road on 30 July

Best fuel efficiency: 12.65 litres p/100k Pemberton to Albany

Worst fuel efficiency: 19.5 litres p/100k; Coober Pedy to Marla in a headwind

Total kilometres travelled: 20,011

In closing, many thanks to Dave for his spectacular photographic contributions to the blog, and for being my tireless editor and phrase contributor. He is much funnier than I am. Thanks to our readers for your comments both publicly and privately, and for following our exploits. It has been a pleasure.

This is Tex (AKA Big Red) & the Bumperless Starcraft Outback signing off.