Home Just to Change Direction

I have been home for five busy days. It's amazing that I've arrived in time for Christmas parties! That's good. I'm also due for surgery. That's not so good. That probably won't happen. And that's not good  - as it was the main reason I came home.

A visit to my GP confirmed that COPD has extended into full blown asthma and I have probably had a recurrence of whooping cough. More medication! Before my 8.30am (!) appointment tomorrow with the surgeon, I have spent today in waiting rooms - blood tests, a chest xray, and a routine breast screening. I assume that the surgery will be postponed once again but hopefully on fairly soon so that I can resume my travels.

Christmas will be rather quiet this year. Andrew and the boys won't be down. Greg and Nikki and the two littlies are going visiting and may be camping. Krista and Umar and the boys and I will probably just do the Santa things and enjoy our airconditioned home. I imagine that any orphans will be welcomed at Keith's place where we have gathered the last few years. We now do the full family get together on the October long weekend and a cousins' reunion on the Sunday before Easter. As most of us have grandchildren now, we are committed to our 'down line' at Christmas.

I got inspired at the rallies to start writing poetry again and have added a blog to this one - silvergypsy1944rhymes.blogspot.com.  You can also click on at the top of my home page. I am having a ball writing these. Last night I had a call from someone selling funeral insurance. I got creative on the phone, explaining that my daughter was a taxidermist (well, she could have been!) and that I was going to stuffed as a museum specimen and then stored at home to look after the kids. I couldn't resist a poem called Get Stuffed. It was fun writing it and I got lots of feedback on my blog. With Toastmasters clubs all on a Christmas break, I imagine I'll use that blog for my creativity.

Keeping Myself Amused

As I drove through Tenterfield today, I saw a sign painted on the road, saying 1501. I did a bit of maths and decided that it had nothing to do with the history of the Middle Ages. I thought about a time, one minute after three in the afternoon. That made no sense either. Fortunately within a couple of blocks I came across the same sign, not painted into a white box. It said simply 50 - and I was happy to go with the speed limit.

I entertained myself remembering signs I had seen along the way. A long term storage facility had a huge banner along the side saying 'Children Free'. I know a lot of parents who would be happy to put their kids into storage from time to time, even long term would be seriously considered. That would allow the cereal box header to come into play, 'Adults go free!' As someone who is experiencing the freedom of the road, I wish freedom for all adults.

Bundaberg soft drinks (like sarsaparilla and ginger beer) have a suggestion on the label, 'Invert bottle before opening'. I assume they want us to turn the bottle upside down to dislodge any sediment or to shake up the bubbles or for some other serious reason - and then turn it right way up before opening. Inverting and then opening would result in an empty bottle.

I've been to two Toastmaster meetings in the past two days. On Tuesday night I joined the Gunnedah Toastmasters for a Speechfest meeting. I was lucky enough to get on the program and did the final speech in the Speaking to Inform manual. I was a bit disappointed as I had a wonderful quote to finish with and forgot to read it. Because I have finally, after 35 years of Toastmasters, had the confidence to attempt my speeches without notes, I forgot I had the quotation written out and left on the lectern.

My evening ended on a high as Angela and Peter invited me to camp overnight at their farm. I had planned on free camping at the RV spot near the river but Angela insisted there was nobody there and I should come with them. Apparently there was thunder and lightning during the night but I slept through it all in the total quiet and dark of their property. I was a bit slow getting away as we talked for quite a while and I sorted out a few simple computer issues.

On Wednesday (last night) I went to the advanced club in Tamworth. Like most advanced clubs there were a lot of very experienced speakers and the agenda provided a good variety. I was involved in the warm up exercise and a Just a Minute segment.

I headed off north immediately after the meeting and stopped about half an hour along the road. I thought I had slept well but ended up having a short nap today at Armidale and another at Glen Innes. I was tempted at Tenterfield but continued to the Jennings Hotel which is a step over the border from Wangaratta. Tomorrow I'll be back in Queensland.

A Crappa and a Dunny

Enough said!

Emu Alley

Today seems to have been the day of the emu. It was almost like an outback version of the Teddy Bears' Picnic, there were so many family groups. I know the dad looks after the chicks and some of them looked quite hassled with a big brood to keep watch over. Perhaps it has been a good season. Most groups I've seen previously consist of three or four young ones. Today six to eight was common.

On Thursday night I stayed at a campsite just west of Broken Hill. Faith, whom I met at the Solos', was overnighting there as well. We talked from when I arrived until dark. I have so much enjoyed meeting up with friends along the way.

I spent a couple of hours in Broken Hill, then pushed on to Spring Hill rest area, only three other vans there but we still managed a happy hour. By the time I got moving this morning, those people had gone and the next campers were arriving. I hope someone finds and takes my step stool. It would have to be the good solid one I left, not the cheap plastic stool.

About an hour along the way, I stopped at Wilcannia. What a beautiful little town! The buildings are show pieces, many of them well over a century old. The police station, court house, post office are all lovely sandstone buildings with elegant proportions. Even some of the houses are the same stone. with wide verandahs. I stopped at Miss Bennett's for coffee. It is an older style cottage transformed into a comfortable coffee shop, with several rooms and outside areas all set up for hungry and thirsty visitors. The woman who owns it has one of the stone cottages - not really a cottage, a large rambling house.

These two trucks parked near me (you can see my van)
and I didn't hear either of them arrive.

Tonight I am at a truck stop at Cobar. I've just had a long hot shower and am sitting in the restaurant part of the roadhouse, checking mail and updating this blog.There are a few trucks coming and going but I've parked myself in a quiet spot. Once I get to sleep, I rarely hear the traffic.

Somewhere along the way, when I stopped for a snooze, I was talking to a couple of caravanners who say they never free camp because they have heard so many horror stories. I can't believe that. Free camping is a very convivial experience. There are almost always others around. The worst I have been aware of is the juvenile behaviour of some of the truckies who keep themselves entertained by blasting their horns as they go by camping areas. It doesn't work with me because it doesn't worry me if I am awake and I don't hear it if I am asleep. (And it serves them right if they come across sleep deprived drivers as a result of their fun.)

A backward Glance

Now that I am home after my first foray into long term travel, I have found it interesting to look back over those four months. I enjoyed the experience on a lot of different levels and for different reasons.

I have called myself a Gypsy as I loved the romantic connotations of the gypsy life which I used to read about as a child. In many of my childhood books the gypsies used to arrive in town, park in the common and add an element of excitement, even danger, for the local residents. Sometimes they set up stalls with exotic items to sell or they told fortunes for some lucky kids or even (Shock! Horror! Shiver!) put a curse on the neighbourhood bully. The gypsies changed the atmosphere of a town while they were there. Their painted caravans and perhaps-stolen horses added an extra frisson of anticipation.

I was obviously destined to be a low-key gypsy. I don’t know whether I ever made any impact on a town or whether those who lived there cared much whether I was there or not. What I do hope is that I inspired even two or three people to expand their horizons and begin to dream a little. I found that women were more likely to ask about my journeys and that single women in particular began to talk about  stepping out of their comfort zones and taking more risks in their lives.  I couldn’t even call myself an up-market gypsy as my Toyota Lucida is only a very small step up from a painted caravan drawn by horses. When I get to the luxury motorhome style of travel, I’ll consider myself upgraded.

But the Silver part of Silver Gypsy is a term I have earned over my lifetime. I started life as a flaming redhead, mellowed to a deep auburn and, during the past ten years have gradually expanded my silver streak. I have become more conscious of this since one of my nieces (thank you Kate!) told me that my hair was all silver and gold – at a time when I was sure it was gold and silver. I thought that a few months and a number of missed hair-dresser sessions would change all the gold to silver. It hasn’t quite happened but I think I can legitimately claim the Silver part of my title.

During my trip, I often felt as though I was going backwards and forwards through time. While my hair was rapidly becoming silver and I was ignoring calls from my hair stylist, I was also neglecting to wear make-up. It was a hard decision to make, as I generally put on a face first thing in the morning. I have done this most of my adult life. The result, though, was the return of freckles! I haven’t had freckles on my face since I was in my teens, though I can’t say the same about my sun-scarred arms and legs. So here I am, ageing in the hair, moving rapidly backwards in my skin.

In terms of the family, I feel the same contradictions.  I left as the eldest daughter and eldest sister and have now found myself the matriarch of the family. As long as my mother was alive, no matter how low her physical and mental condition, there was always that generation older than me. I imagine Denis experienced the same feelings when Dad died. Yet, we were expecting both deaths and in many ways had already taken on a lot of the family responsibilities. It still comes as a shock. At the same time, my own children and grandchildren have been building their lives, moving forward in their careers and watching their kids grow and develop. Life goes on and I suppose it is the passing of a generation that really drives this home.

It is always interesting when you are travelling to find how different the pace of life is. Without clocks and calendars dictating activities, the pattern of living is far more relaxed. I loved the opportunity to come and go as I pleased, to move on if I was ready to move and to batten down if I wished. When I came home, although I quickly got back into the swing of things, for a while I did things consciously rather than with the unconscious ease of routine. I had to fit in with the timetables of the family. For them, this was just a continuation of life; for me it required adjustment.

Cory December 2011

Hudson June 2012

When I arrived home, Hudson was quick to tell me that he was four now and old enough to go camping. Cory had had two nights at Beachmere with me before I went away. For Hudson, the next step was for him to camp which we will do this week, all the way over at Scarborough. For the kids, even though they missed me, it was as if my life hadn’t continued while I was away. Perhaps that is the ego-centricity of young children, that others only exist in relation to them. Whatever the reason, I have to adjust to them, not the other way around. 

So far I haven’t got involved in my usual social activities. It seems to be more difficult to wind myself up again than I had expected. Generally my weeks would be full, two or three mornings occupied with classes and most evenings filled with club meetings. I have certainly realised that nobody is indispensable as all my clubs and groups have continued to operate and grow without me. I will try to develop the same philosophy to my activities as to my journey – I don’t have to change the world (or my little part of it). I can accept it, as I accepted the weather and whoever parked alongside me, or I can pack away my goods and move on. There are not many things in my social life which should be stressful. If they are, I can change my attitude or change my location. Simple, in theory!

Being accepted by a group has been important to me. As a child, and well into adult life, I was excruciatingly shy and never felt that I was welcome in a group. Looking back, I realise that this was just my perception because I was so sensitive and self-conscious. Fortunately most of that insecurity has passed and I am able to accept others for who they are and expect them to do the same for me. I have had this brought home to me clearly in the last few weeks.  Since Mum’s death and in the weeks leading up to it, I have been overwhelmed by the support offered by  family and friends, including representatives of most of the activities I am involved in, Toastmasters, my tap dance group and Red Hat friends and other social groups.  What really touched me was the support of fellow travellers, those I met on the road and others who have only met me through my blog or travel forums. It reinforced the feeling of community that develops among people with shared interests. Friendship and camaraderie don’t have to be of long standing to be sincere and genuine.

I have learnt other lessons while I have been away.  Spending four months in a car designed for town driving with few adaptations has told me that yes, size does matter. For a few months, this was quite comfortable and generally all I needed. Now that I have the taste for travel again, I know that next time I will be away for a much longer time and I’d like to take some of the comforts of home with me. That will mean slightly larger transport, a better bed and a bit of room to move around.

I have decided that dirt roads and detours are part of the fun of travel and that a white line is not a necessity. Some sites that are stumbled on by accident are among the best around. In fact, although other nomads are quick to share their experiences, I do wonder if they sometimes keep their favourite places secret – like fishermen who are very vague about where they got a good haul.  I found also that fellowship is always on offer whether you stay at a caravan park, in a reserve or national park, or just on the side of the highway. Anyone who feels alone on the road must have made the decision to be alone.

Here in Australia we have the contrasts of the seasons, of scenery and society and we become more conscious of it when we have chosen to get out of our house-bound routines.  We can choose to travel by the sea or in the outback, to be with others or alone, to move slowly or swiftly.  But, whether we are in a basic van or a luxury rig, in a car or on a bike, there is the same starry, open sky above and the same earth beneath our wheels. We are wanderers in a wide and wonderful world.

My daughter has threatened to put my OMG photo on my coffin if I don't use at least one respectable photo of myself on this blog. When I have done that, I will consider my blog complete. Thank you for accompanying me on this journey.

Mt Gambier

Mt Gambier is the second largest town in South Australia but it is not what you'd expect of a largish city. The whole area is built on limestone caves and even in the middle of town are sinkholes and sunken gardens and limestone caves.

Only about a kilometre from the city centre are crater lakes. The smaller one shown gives an idea of the size of the whole crater as the photo is taken from a lookout at the top. It probably filled the crater at some time. The larger is the Blue Lake which is a brilliant blue from about November to March then reverts to normal wintery looking grey as the weather changes. It is supposed to be past its best now but the photos I took are fairly impressive.  Half an hour from town is the Small Blue Lake which is actually polluted with blue-green algae and is almost green in colour. It is about a tenth the size of the Blue Lake but is perfectly round and gives an idea of the geological history of the area. It may be a sinkhole rather than a crater lake.

Back in town, I visited the Umpherston Sinkhole garden. About a century ago, the original owner built walkways and terraces and gardens to provide an oasis on his property. At the time, the water table was higher and half of the base was a lake with a boat. Not any more, but it is still a very attractive area, set in a large shady park and administered by the city. At night they are floodlit.



The view from the end of the jetty
 may be unchanged
from Mary MacKillop's time

I took a drive to Port MacDonnell, checking out the jetty where Mary MacKillop set off for Adelaide to set up schools there. If you are looking for a MM relic, this may be the place to go. I am sure the jetty hasn't been replaced or repaired in all that time. The boards are worn and unevenly spaced and railway tracks run down the middle. Photos of women on the jetty about 150 years ago, show not much has changed. This is the centre of the lobster fishing area of SA and I had hoped to shout myself to a lobster tail or a lobster entree at a hotel or cafe. At $65 a serve, I discovered that I have as much Scottish heritage as Irish and contented myself with garlic prawns for lunch.


I almost detoured on the way back to town to see Adam Lindsay Gordon's cottage but changed my mind. Those heritage cottages are like the Spanish identical twins - seen Juan, seen Imal!

Once a Yolly Yambuk

A few days ago - the days run into each other when you don't use a watch or a calendar - I spent the day in Warrnambool and took a tour. Well, it was actually a private introduction to the city as there wasn't a tour going but Bob took me anyhow. It is always great to see a place through the eyes of an insider and Bob gave me a great overview of the city. (If you are there, go to the Information Centre and book one of his tours. It is well worth it.) Bob is retired principal of the high school, so we also talked a bit about our working lives.

He recommended a few days in the area and suggested the Yambuk caravan park where I have stayed for the past three days. It is a lovely quiet spot - or it was till the school holidays started yesterday! The park is on a lake, quiet and serene. Over the sandhills is the ocean and it is quite disorienting to look at the still  lake and hear pounding waves at the same time. (And yes, I know it was the jolly swagman who camped by the billabong. I have since met Jos - pronounced Yos - yet another cyclist, this time from Holland. I thought it tied in nicely with the Yambuk theme)

I did Warrnambool the easy way, mainly in Bob's little bus, followed by a drive around to have a closer inspection of some of the areas I had just seen. It is a city of contrasts with the very old buildings intermixed with brash new modern designs but it seems to be true to its origins and clings to its historical roots.

This restaurant was once
the Post Office

I spent most of the day yesterday in Port Fairy, the end of the Great Ocean Road and another day in Portland. This area was the first to be settled in victoria and was a very busy entry port for thousands of Chinese who came to the goldfields.

I love the gabled windows

The Notorious, replica Portuguese Caravel
soon to sail around the world

Hundreds of wind turbines on wind farms

Guess how far I walked on the Great South West Walk

Cape Nelson Lighthouse
Are you there, Josee?

Great Ocean Road

Memorial to the 3000 Returned Service Men
who built the Great Ocean Road

The Great Ocean Road is fascinating in many ways, not just for the exceptional scenery.  The road itself was built by returned servicemen in an economic stimulus scheme to provide work for thousands of men.  It was constructed as a memorial to those who did not return after the First World War and is the longest memorial in the world.  The start of the road is marked by a memorial arch and sculpture to the workers so it is a memorial at a second level. One of the aims of the construction was to link the coastal towns of the Victorian coast. It was a huge job winding its way along an inhospitable coast with dense forests, high cliffs and rocky mountains that had to be hewn through – a major engineering feat.

Then there is the scenery – one of the most picturesque stretches of coastline. The force of the waves is constantly changing the shoreline. When I brought the kids to this area when they were at school, the London Bridge formation was complete. Not long after that the middle collapsed and, although it still bears the name, it doesn’t bear any resemblance to the original.  I stopped at the Twelve Apostles and several other lookouts along the way, including the Loch Ard Gorge.  All of these places have historical significance and are worth Googling for more details.

The councils and Victorian Government have really promoted this as a world class journey, which it is. Viewing areas and safe parking spots have been set up. Information boards are well done with photos and stories presented in easy to read snatches.  It is interesting to just listen to the variety of languages – and to look at the range of expensive cameras clicking away.

Along the Coast

The Twelve Apostles
Great Ocean Road

Loch Ard Gorge

Loch Ard Gorge
Can you see my car at the end of the walking track?
Neither can I. It was a long walk.

Wwoofers and Wanderers

This is another of those 'Damnation' posts. The last two seem to have disappeared without a trace - and it takes ages to upload photos even once, never mind twice. But I'll be ladylike and say 'Oh dear!' and try to connect the dots accurately. I am going to publish this as I do each bit because saving doesn't always seem to save. So this will be a work in progress. I will also publish People of the Journey even though it is not complete.

Until a month ago, I had never heard of a Willing Worker on Organic Farms and now I am meeting them constantly. I suppose that makes sense as most of them are working long enough to earn the money for the next stage of the trip or volunteering as a wwoofer to have a break from travel and experience the lifestyle. I imagine that most of them and young and single or travelling in small groups.

Sharing a cuppa with Clement
before he continues his long bike ride

A couple of nights ago, I stayed at the Aire River campground, a busy little free camping area (in fact the only free one I have managed since arriving back in Victoria) spread over both sides of the river. My site was in the smaller area, well grassed and newly mown so there was the lovely smell of just cut grass - and the less lovely traipsing of grass into the van.

One of my fellow campers was Clement. Say that with your best French accent. He is working and exploring on a push bike. I had passed him on the road earlier and admired his stamina on the hills. He has been travelling since November, starting in North Queensland. At home he is a data programmer in a bank, though planning a change after this trip. He is learning about the hard work of farming at the moment. At the Killarney campground the following night, I met up with Tetsu from Japan. He has been working on farms at Shepparton. Travelling in a station sedan, he has set himself up fairly well. He is on his way to the Grampions to do some rock climbing.

As well as these adventurous young men, there are plenty of travellers of all ages. I suppose by staying in the free and budget camps I meet a different style of traveller from those who stay in hotels and motels and even those who always stay in caravan parks, and there are lots of those.  Some of them I meet up with more than once. Tanya and Phil are following a similar route to me and have been at the same parks twice. I expect to run into them again.

With my new awning, I look like a real camper

Although I am perfectly happy poking along at my own pace, it is nice to see a familiar face occasionally. There is a wonderful sense of camaraderie among the people I meet. There are a lot of solos on the road but singles, couples or groups are all welcoming. I have been asked what it is like to be alone and I have to honestly say that I don't feel alone and I get a bit of a shock to be asked.