Power, a Shower and a Twin-Tub Washer

Just set up at Black Point

The Yorke Peninsula looks like a leg, with a large foot complete with a corn on the big toe, appropriately called Corny Point. I am at Black Point, on the calf of the leg. It is something between a caravan park and a campground. I had to register at a caravan park nearby and pay $15 a night. That gives me power which I don't usually bother with but will make sure everything is fully charged before I leave. There are old but clean toilets, hot showers and a laundry. I think my first flat ever had a twin-tub washing machine so it will be interesting working out again how it operates. At no cost to operate, it is worth washing my jeans which are beginning to stand up by themselves when I take them off. Then I can rinse them in the concrete wash tubs.

I was a bit concerned that this might be an almost deserted camp but there are seven groups here in an area that only holds ten so it is quite cosy. Some are just overnighters and others are here for a few days. I've paid for two nights and will see how I go then. I have rediscovered my need to be near the sea. Bush camping has left me as cold as the rare bush showers. As soon as I see the water, I feel at home. This was how I used to feel when I hit the Hornibrook bridge whenever I'd been away from Redcliffe for any length of time. I must have salt water in my veins.

This is my third night here. Two sets of neighbours (Marion and Harry and Yvonne and Robert) arrived when I did and are both staying on. Two others arrived today after others left. The men and Marion have been fishing and got a few good sized whiting, obviously just enough to feed themselves for one meal as they were out again on the next tide.  It has been a very quiet day around the camp. I went for a walk on the beach again today, not too far or too fast. It is the Toastmasters Convention weekend in Brisbane and I feel a bit left out.  (I know, I left them not the other way around but convention is usually part of my Toastmasters year.) Sue has sent photos already and I have sent a message to Preeta who has worked all year as Convention Convenor and won't relax till the weekend is over.

Black Point is like many small beachside towns. Along the beach, right at the edge of the high tide are a number of shacks made with a variety of materials. These were probably squatters who came here for the fishing. Behind them along the top are some flash homes and rental units and houses and further along quite a few big houses that look as though they may have permanent occupants, as people realised that the owners of the shacks had found a beautiful place to live.  There seems to have been a competition to name the properties. There is The Butcher's Block, complete with illustration, Warren's Warren, Hawke's Nest, Black Point Hilton etc. There are also official road signs warning, Slow Down. Cars Appear from Nowhere and Kids Don't Bounce but Their Angry Parents Do and If You Crash Here, It Takes 20 Minutes For an Ambulance to Come.

I had expected to drive south and most of the way round the peninsula tomorrow but have scaled it down after talking to Wendy and Tom. They have a motor home with a closed trailer (I don't know what else to call it - mobile garage? skeleton caravan?) for their snazzy trike. They rode (triked?) around today and felt that they wouldn't have missed much if they had cut their ride short. So in the morning I will go as far as Port Vincent on the east coast then zigzag across to Stansbury and up the west coast, probably finishing at Maitland overnight which has a free camp area right opposite the hospital.

Blow a Brown Dog off its Chain

When you are snug and secure in your own home, the weather is fairly unimportant. Travelling, and especially camping, makes you extremely conscious of even minute changes. The past three days have been delightful, warm and sunny until now when I was told that it is windy enough to blow a brown dog off its chain. I've never heard the expression before. Is it a South Australian thing or have I just been talking to someone with a talent for words?

From Friday through till Tuesday morning, I stayed in Port Lincoln. Two nights were spent in a caravan park only steps away from the water. It is quite a large park, with perhaps 30 cabins, 50 powered sites and a large unpowered area which I mentioned in my Unanswered Questions blog. Around me were the usual mix of tents and campers. Once again there was a cyclist, this time from Switzerland, planning to ride completely around Australia in twelve months. As he has only come (only!!) from Melbourne so far, it looks to me as though he will be in Darwin by the middle of the wet season. But who am I to discourage anyone! I wish him luck.

Friday night I stopped in a motorhome parking area. A woman at the information centre was very definite that it was for motorhomes only. I pointed out that it was the Campervan and Motorhome Association (which I belong to) that negotiated with councils for parking areas and I left her to draw the conclusion that perhaps she was wrong. However, I did drive up to look at it and it definitely said that it was for motorhomes only. I can justify my existence in a place like that. After all I am in a motor and for the moment it is my home, ergo a motorhome. Unfortunately the sign was very specific, no caravans, campervans or tents and I really have to class myself as a small campervan, not a micro motorhome.

She suggested a free camp called Fishery Bay which she told me was on a good dirt road and a nice quiet area. That was half right. It was not a good road, very potholed in places but it was quiet. It was so quiet that there was only one other person there, a long term camper with a stack of lobster pots and a dog as big as a shetland pony. I braved the bad road again and went back to town. Feeling like a criminal, I had dinner in town and waited till after dark and crept out to the parking area, where I squeezed myself in among several caravans (yes, lawbreakers!) and motorhomes. I even woke early and left while the dew was still on my windscreen. That's when I booked into the caravan park.


During the next days, as well as visiting a winery and a museum and a very well stocked Aboriginal Art Centre, I found another area also designated motorhome parking. It looked a little more secluded, with one rig already set up there.  I think it is important to have more than one person parking even in an approved area, just for safety and security. So I conveniently parked my conscience and my van there ovenight. I was actually doing a civic service.


I pottered northward along  the gulf today. After a good hour on the road I called in to Tumby Bay and then stopped at Arno Bay for lunch - just a coffee and a muffin. I had a huge plate of veges last night and I don't want to overdo the healthy eating bit. I might get a taste for real meals. I have once again settled into a small caravan park, quite near the ferry that I've booked on for tomorrow. There are a lot of permanent or long term caravanners here. I was invited to join a big group tonight having a bbq to celebrate the owner's birthday. I don't think I will bother. I can't believe I even said that!  Me, the Silver Socialite! But it is windy and it is cold and I've put my bedsocks on. I really don't want to socialise with a big group who all know each other. It's not like going to a Toastmasters meeting or a Red Hatters lunch where I have a common interest. I know it wouldn't be a problem. I can fit into any group but I am going to be unsociable tonight.

Fresh Eyre and Sunshine - the Eyre Peninsula

 As I drove along some long empty roads in the last few days, it struck me how deserted they are and how isolated a driver can be. In some cases it was almost an hour before I saw a vehicle approaching. In my best Kath and Kim impersonation, I wanted to call out ‘Look at moi, look at moi’, wave hysterically and toss streamers or balloons from the car. But what did I do? I raised an index finger laconically from the steering wheel and received a similar acknowledgement from the other driver. In seconds we were out of sight of each other, facing the deserted road again. Contact made! It can be interesting. If someone doesn't wave, I tend not to wave to the next driver who invariably does. So I get back into the swing, waving to  the next car who may or may not acknowledge me. I think there should be a rule that if you are driving east or north, you should raise the index finger first. That frees up the decision making for those travelling west or south.

One of the challenges of living cheaply on the road is finding a good camping site. On my way east from Streaky Bay I detoured twice to look at bush camping. On one road the corrugations were so bad that the fillings dropped out of my teeth before I hit the sandy stretch where I slewed around so wildly that somehow the fillings got thrown back into place. I gave up before I got to the camping spot. (I should have read my Camps book more carefully and I would have known that there is a world of difference between a camp spot and a camp ground.) The next spot I managed to get to but found three small turn-out areas. There were two vans in one, and nothing and nobody else in sight. I gave this one a miss too.

 The previous night I had had a similar experience. I had my Camps Australia book and found what seemed like a good spot a few kilometres south of Streaky Bay. I followed the signs, found a small settlement but with no sign of the toilets and showers promised in the book. Going on a bit, finally I found the sign to the bay I was looking for.  The road was an adventure in itself. Occasionally the track divided into two.  The one I took invariable ended in a soft sandy bog or a washout and I had to reverse to try the other. I don't often (I should say, I don't always) talk to myself but I was questioning my wisdom for quite a while before I had the sense to turn around. Two other tracks failed to take me to a camping area. Then, just as I was about to give up and head for the town again, I saw two vans parked  just off the road and there it was, the sign saying this was free camping. When I went to the other drivers and inquired where I should get my certificate for finding the place, it turned out that they were also expecting some reward. Two other rigs arrived shortly and we had quite a comfortable stay. There was a toilet, a hybrid which I have got used to. There was a shower, a hose hanging under an almost empty tank. There was also a great sense of camaradie as we all set up and then shared a drink. The view along the way had been worth detouring for but it took a while before peace of mind kicked in.

Elliston Child Care Centre

Along this stretch of the road, there are really very few camping grounds (as distinct from camping spots) so I have been forced into a caravan park for three nights. As it happens, it is one of the few that I have seen that caters for solo travellers. At $20 a night, it is not much more than some of the camping spots which often charge $10 plus a permit for camping in a national park or conservation area.

 I am in Elliston which calls itself the Salmon Capital of Australia. It certainly seems to be a fisherman's paradise as most campers here come just for the fishing. They go out for a couple of hours and come back with a dozen or so fish, many of which they give away so they can make room in their fridge for the ones they are going to catch tomorrow. 


I stood on the jetty for ages waiting to see a small penguin that people had told me about. Then I thought I saw it on the rocks and watched intently for ages so that I'd know when it was swimming towards me for a photo. But when it flapped  its wings and flew off, I gave up on it! Who wants a flying penguin! I went for a drive along the cliffs to look at some sculptures which survive the ravages of the wind and rain with varying degrees of success. Apparently I was too early for this year's new sculptures but it was interesting to see the variety of subjects covered. If it doesn't already exist, there should be a law, The Travellers' Law of Local Events and Exhibitions i.e. it happened last week or it won't happen till the day after you leave!

Yesterday my neighbour Marco had been fishing with his young son and, after he had cleaned and filleted his fish, gave me a few fillets of either whiting or tommy ruffs. I am not sure what I had as I have been checking with a few of the fisher folk as they cleaned their catch and the fish look the same to me. I had assumed they were whiting because of the size. Last night I went to the bbq area and cooked them in breadcrumbs. Lovely! I had a few chats with two older fellows in a tent on the other side of me. I was trying to get a peek into their tent to check on the sleeping arrangements as they seemed to disappear into their tent early in the night. However today one of them managed to drop the phrase 'My wife and I' into the conversation about every two minutes of so. Perhaps he could read my mind. This evening I've had happy hour with three groups who have just arrived for up to six weeks camping and fishing. It was probably a good time to meet with them as they will be a tight knit community within a few days, as long time residents.

One lazy soul, thirty steps down to the lookout

Two hardy souls part way down the 284 steps

This is a very quiet little town probably made up equally of residents and campers as both caravan parks are apparently popular for most of the year. There is the usual bakery and cafe, an IGA and not much else. The past two days I have just walked close to home. Today I did the cliff top drive to look at sculptures. These are replaced regularly as most things don't survive nature's force for long. I also went to Lock's Well, the main feature of which is a 284 step staircase to the beach. I could have camped there free as there are two vans that have been there for a fortnight as well a few that have come and gone.

People of the Journey - South Australia

SA will be about longer term stays so I expect to meet far more fellow travellers.  In the five days at Southend, I had quite a bit to do with Jackie and Paul, and Susan and Natasha and their kids. Once they left, blown away by the Easter storms, I spent some time with Gay and Evelyn. I was sorry not to have met them earlier.

Langhorne Creek was an interesting place. I found it by accident. Driving past, I realised that it was shady and inviting so put down roots for a couple of days. Near me was a family from Western Australia. I was absolutely impressed by the kids, Jennifer aged 14 and Alexander aged 12. Obviously their parents Debbie and Charles were doing the right thing for the kids to be so advanced. They are on the road for a year. Alexander has been accelerated two school classes and Jennifer is working at year 12 level after spending three months in Italy last year. This year of travel is a great opportunity for the kids – though I imagine there are tensions with two generations in a small caravan for months on end. They seem to be managing well.

I spoke to most of the campers over a couple of days there. On the last morning I had to call for help as my battery was almost flat. I could wind down the windows and clean the windscreen but not turn the engine over. I had some offers of help but Ron and Sue had a power pack which they attached to my battery and I was away. Next time I travel long term, I will have one of those. And perhaps next time I won't run so many things without being attached to a power point.

Monday night I went to a Toastmasters meeting of a club called More than Words. The club had formed initially to support speakers with a stutter or stammer. Since then it has broadened. I was lucky enough to get a Table Topic and to evaluate a speech. The photo shows several members and Fiona who was a guest at the meeting. There were a couple of members that I would love to mentor, long distance by email or phone or uTube. I like their attitude and they have a lot to offer and to gain from Toastmasters. I can’t help myself, can I? I must have a messiah complex. If I am approached, I will do it.

Adriana Michalickova
I don't usually use surnames
but with a name like that.....

This evening I spent a couple of hours talking to Adriana from Slovakia, living and working in Prague. She and her boyfriend are cycling across Australia, from Sydney to Perth in three months. They are a bit behind schedule as she has had to stay in Adelaide for medical problems so they are getting the train on Thursday to Kalgoorlie. From there they will cycle the south west corner and be on a plane home in less than a month from now. Impressive!

In Coffin Bay I had arranged to meet Red Hatter Kay. She left me reeling. Tiny and turbo charged! In her working life, she was in a position where she not only had to be extremely organised but also had to organise a busy business - and that takes hard work. Now in retirement she and her husband Tony are involved with a Uniting Church mission in Mwandi, Zambia. Tony is working there at the moment on a project to bring a safe and healthy water supply to the community. They are working with over 720 orphans  (of an estimated 1500 in the district) and other vulnerable children. The emphasis is on feeding them and providing health care and education. The educational opportunities stretch from primary to tertiary schooling with 8 at university and 12 at college. What a difference that mission is making! It gets support from several countries but it is the people of Port Lincoln area who collect donations and pack goods. When enough is gathered, they pack and send a 40ft container to Zambia with everything from clothes to school material and medical supplies. The variety must be incredible - and the work of packing to use every skerrick of space in the container sounds like a nightmare to organise. I am humbled, Kay.

Tess stood guard, Kay's fearless hunter

I Feel Like a Giant with Petite Kay

Some of the Port Lincoln Red Hatters
Who Welcomed me to Their Meeting

My time in South Australia was cut short so there aren't as many people featured here as I had expected. However, those who are here, provide an example of the diversity of my contacts along the way.

Wine Country

Penola, the town, was a lovely spot, with reminders of the Mary MacKillop story everywhere – the church, the interpretive centre, the park – but Penola, the caravan park, left much to be desired. The three groups who stayed the night were all rather dismayed. The park is old and rundown and caters mainly for permanent and semi-permanent stays. However, as ever, we socialised a bit and shared a happy hour. One couple left before I did and the others about the same time as me. We met up twice along the way – once at the Coonawarra winery and once at the Father Woods Park.

That whole area is part of the Coonawarra wine belt, with a dozen or more wineries one beside the other, all with cellar door sales. I don’t bother much with a drink but thought it would be a sacrilege to pass through and not pay homage to the wine makers. Besides, it is useful to have a couple of drinks available when people stop for a drink. I also make sure I have both tea and coffee. I am a lot more hospitable here than I am at home, where the coffee shops are the easiest places to meet.

I moved north from Penola, stopping for lunch in Keith, mainly to send a postcard to my brother Keith. For a while I checked out camping spots but all were deserted until fairly late in the day when I stayed just shy of Coonalpyn. I was talking to fellow campers there, congratulating ourselves on a good large camping area, well back from the road with a separate section for trucks when a train roared past not more than 20 metres away. Ah well! What can you expect for nothing!

I had lunch today (Saturday) at Tailem Bend in a bakery there. Bakeries seem to be the place to go in SA. Most are very well set up as cafes and do a roaring trade. Claire and Adrian, from the Penola park, had suggested the ferry from Tailem Bend across the river. It is a free cable-drawn vehicular ferry that runs every few minutes 24 hours a day, taking cars to the Fleurieu Peninsula. I am once again camping in a free reserve at Langhome Creek, in the middle of another wine area. I may stay two nights and try to get to a Toastmasters meeting in the city on Monday night.

Easter Blows In

There is a kind of concentration camp mentality obvious around me. You know how it is. When people have been through shared experiences, there is a certain connection. That's what I am seeing around me.

I had intended to stop in Mt Gambier for a few days but the weather was so hot that I decided to head for the coast instead. In retrospect, that may not have been the best move. I got as far as Southend and settled in for a few nights - and so did the weather.

Eve held the wool for my knitting

Josh, Eve and Isla made sure
the Easter Bunny came to me

When I set up on Thursday, it was lovely - light sea breezes and clear skies. On Good Friday, the weather turned wild with 45 knot winds. I had stopped in the waterside camping area attached to the Southend on Sea caravan park, only $8 a night plus a cost for showers. Most of the area was settled by families there for the four days of Easter, many in tents of all sorts and sizes. Even those in motorhomes or caravans battened down and closed up everything as sand swirled around the camp and tents came adrift.  There were two groups fairly close to each other in the same type of tent. Both had broken poles and one had a torn tent and went home, The other family rescued the extra poles from the bin, combining all the poles to reset their tent.

Most who were here for the weekend, left early Monday (today), even those who had planned to stay for part of the school holidays. There were three families near me who left early. They had been very helpful when I needed to fold my awning away in the wind, especially Paul. Think of my brother Frank ten years ago. Add another five or six inches in height, ginger beard to his chest, dreadlocks to his waist - very useful to have when muscles were needed. Interestingly enough, he is a secondary school teacher - and probably has great credibility with the kids, though not sure about the administrators of the school! His kids, Isla and Josh, together with Eve from another tent, adopted me a bit and made sure that the Easter Bunny left me some eggs.

A group of eight vans is due to set up near me today, with one arriving so far. Apparently they all come here every year for a week. They plan for a camp fire later and I'll zip over for a while tonight. I've just had two ladies from the caravan park over for a cup of tea. They are here with their husbands, who are brothers, for five weeks. They suggested I visit them later today but I said I'd call for a coffee before I leave tomorrow.

I took my awning down this morning as it is getting windy again. Now that I have no attachments, I can move the van if I want to but I think I probably have the most protected spot. Because I hadn't booked, I got squashed in at the end of the grounds with fairly thick, low lying bushes on two sides, bushy dunes on another and caravans on the fourth side. 

After  rolling up the awning on Friday night, I made the most of Saturday and spent the day exploring close by. There was a market at Beachport, where I bought two delicious pork sausages (yes, I do cook occasionally) and tomatoes and cheese for my afternoon biscuits. The town was crowded for the markets but further afield the traffic was almost non-existent.  I went to the Pool of Siloam (not the one in the bible!) which is supposed to be seven times saltier than the sea. It was too cold for anyone to be swimming so I couldn't see how buoyant swimmers would be.

Pool of Siloam
Beachport, not Galilee

Jetty once 1200m, now 700m long

I have never seen this sign before

Robe was just a bit further on so I kept driving. It is a pretty little town and was absolutely packed. One of the shop keepers told me that Easter is their absolute most busy time. There was a real holiday atmosphere and the town was busy and bustling.  I went to St Mary Star of the Sea church which was commissioned by Julian Tenison Woods and included a school taught by the Sisters of St Joseph. Mary MacKillop was a regular visitor here. The church is not in regular use and had a sign for a mass on Sunday and asking people to brings chairs or rugs to sit on. I assume there are no pews, but the church was locked and I couldn't check for myself. I'll add a couple of photos to the Mary MacKillop blog, and more during the week when I go to Mt Gambier and Penola.

I enjoy writing these blogs but find the photos very frustrating as they are almost impossible to position and I have to go with what the program decides is the placement. So the layout is not what I want. I hope when it comes to printing the book at the end, that there is the opportunity to reposition photos. I will be upset if my final result is all higgeldy-piggeldy!

People of the Journey - Victoria

Clement at Aire River Camp

My trip across Victoria was fairly quick and I didn’t make much contact with people. Aire River campground reminded me of how we are creatures of habit.  When I arrived Robin had set himself up on a high flat corner of the grounds.  Tanya and Phil were tucked away in one corner with the tent out of sight behind the truck – which they proceeded to do at the next camping area. As usual, I circled the place a couple of times looking for a shady, grassy, flat spot. You can’t adjust a car the way you can level a caravan or motorhome. If I’m not flat, I fall out of bed. There is about half a square metre of floor space between the bed and the door, that is a very awkward predicament to be in. Far better to find the right spot in the first place. Clement eventually cycled in and we talked for quite a while in the evening and again next morning.

There was a very popular spot at Dartmoor, When I arrived Marty and Liz were on the best high level ground. When they left, Max and Nadine moved from the gully to their spot. They were followed by Lynda. Lynda is on the road almost permanently - eighteen months already this trip. She has quite a large motorhome with a motor bike on the back. Not only in Australia, she has camped in Asia and South America and seems to have seen large amounts of the world, including long term teaching in Laos where she is headed again at the end of the year. (Lynda is Nomadic1 on the Grey Nomads Forum)

Marty and Liz and Bonnie
Dartmoor

Max and Nadine from Germany
with their first ever campfire

Liz suggested that I should go to a sex shop and get a blow-up doll for my passenger seat to give the impression of not travelling alone. I'm not sure about the message that would give.

Doona Days in Dartmoor

At Wannan Falls a couple of days ago, I met Kim and Germaine. They run a caravan park at Falls Creek and are on a busman's holiday, caravanning and camping for a few days. They suggested a stop at Dartmoor - and here I am. The town is quite small but provides a large camping area beside the creek. There were probably a dozen rigs here last night and they are starting to roll in again for tonight. I wandered up to the town today and had a coffee (surprise!) and a toasted sandwich. I haven't bought bread since I left home and appreciate a sandwich from time to time.

Like the memorial sculptures I saw in Tasmania, the town has a series of sculptures, carved from trees planted as a memorial after World War 1. As the trees became dangerous and likely to fall or break, an avenue was carved depicting images of the great war - soldiers, a nurse, a weeping mother, a group of young men - not really old enough but going to war anyhow, a sentinel gun for those who didn't return. These were all carved with chainsaws - perhaps by the same sculptor who did those in Legerwood, Tas.

  Down the road at the Village Green, another tree has been carved in the kids' playground with an assortment of fairy tale and nursery rhyme characters.

 It is so very quiet and peaceful here that I have set up both my awnings, side and back, and settled in for a couple of Doona Days. I have just finished a Barbara Taylor Bradford book that has taken me more than a week. Last night I sat around a campfire with Liz and Marty and their dog Bonnie. Liz gave me a book called 'The Inconvenient Child' by Sharyn Killens and Lindsay Lewis. It is the true story of the abandoned child of an Australian girl and a black African American marine and her quest to find her American family. I have just started it and am totally enthralled. If I spend another day here lazing around, I will finish it tomorrow. I might sit and knit for a bit as well.

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.

People of the Journey - Tasmania

Last year our book club read ‘The People of the Book’ which inspired the title of this blog.

There is a wonderful welcoming spirit among the people you meet on the road. Generally you get to know for a brief time those who are parked near you at night. Sometimes that may be for a few days but often there is just a chat at happy hour. I try to do a quick circuit of the campground when I arrive and introduce myself briefly to everyone. I usually get an invitation to join at least one group for drinks, but I consider it sensible for people to know I am there alone if I need help. (I have had a couple of propositions from fellows also travelling alone - or who would like to be, though most are like me and are alone because they want to be. I haven’t been tempted at all, though it is good for the ego to get an occasional offer.)

Just to keep them fresh in my mind, I will try to recall some of my fellow travellers and a memory-jogger from what I know about them. As I did with my 365 project last year, I will use only first names – but if you recognise yourself and want to be removed from the blog, or to correct my story, just get in touch. The email address is at the top of my home page of the blog.

On my first night in Tasmania, I parked at Sulphur Creek next to Joyce, maybe ten years older than me. She is from Melbourne, originally from Malta. In her van, she has complete freedom. When she stops, she has to use a walker to get around. She must appreciate having the gumption to get up and go when she could be sitting at home feeling sorry for herself. She travels in a pop top, using a small generator to power her TV so that she doesn’t miss all her favourite soaps.  I think she exemplifies rhe spirit of travel. On that same night, Paul came over from another van with a plate of curry for me – insisting that his wife had cooked far too much.

Helen and Chris
Wynyard

I was fortunate to have some time with Helen and Chris, future in-laws who share a grandson, Cooper, with me. I stayed with them on the way over to the north-west coast and on the way back. Right at the end of my trip, I landed back in again.  Chris loaded me up with potatoes which lasted for at least six weeks. He fancies himself (and rightly so) as a cook of chips and showed me the finer points of a good hot chip. Helen works in Wynyard as a carer.  I am sure she is a whirlwind in someone’s house because I have never seen anyone peel veges, clean up etc as fast as she does. If you don’t move, you’ll be washed, dusted or dropped in the bin!

Zudi

In Longford, I met with a group of Red Hat ladies from Burnie, Launceston and Hobart. Zudi invited me to stay when I got to Hobart and I based myself there, coming and going a few times. I feel as though I have known her forever and hope she will visit me later in the year.

Many times along the way, I met people just for an hour or so. Jenny and Blue from Montague Bay gave me fish to see me on my way. I ate that for two days, eventually sharing the last of it with a couple from Hobart, who provided veges to go with the fish and we sat down to a feast, fifty metres from thundering surf!

Red Hatter Merlene, Burnie
with a Mad Hatter

David, Vivienne and Kirra
over the water from Bruny Island

 

David and Judith
Salamanca Markets, Hobart

Marie and Bill at Bay of Fires
Our paths had crossed  in Scottsdale too

In the south west corner, I met up with John from SA and Eric from Queensland, Both were travelling alone and we all stayed at the showgrounds in Queenstown. John was at the same camp in Strahan and both were on the Gordon River cruise that I took. In Queenstown I caught up again with Marilyn and Paul and Nancy and Geoff and their friends Jane and Lindsay. Marilyn and I swapped family news over a couple of days - and a couple of wines.