Kununurra
Hi Guys, here we are in sunny Kununurra. Actually it has been cool, even had to pull up the doona of a night time. Everyone seems to be catching up with us as we hang around the area, as there is really only one way to get across from NT to the west coast of WA.
We did a day run around the area while dad worked for Horizon Energy. Out to Ivanhoe Crossing which is a barrage at the bottom of the Ord River for a spot of fishing. It is a causeway about 100m long with about 2 foot of water flowing over it every day of the week. No fish this time. Back into town and checked out the Lovell Art Gallery which after plenty of moaning from the kids and Julie as to why we were there, everyone was gob smacked about what was hanging on the walls. They had a painting of the Bungle Bungles that was about 10m long and 3m high which took the artist twenty years to finally finish. If you were allowed to take a photo it could not give a true idea of how this painting looks. Brilliant, and a must see. I had to drag them out of there about an hour later.
We went to the top of Kelly’s Knob lookout to view around the area and down over the local indigenous community drinking and partying away at the bottom, legless at twelve o’clock on a Wednesday. We’ve been up and down the main streets of town plenty of times already (there are only 2, plus some industrial and housing areas). Looks like we might be hanging around for a while for work will let you know.
I dragged everyone out of bed early on Saturday so we could do a run up to Wyndham which we have read is well worth the visit. Don’t believe what you read. This is probably the worst place I have ever been to. What an absolute dive. A shop, a post office, a pub, a police station and various run down dumps that are supposed to pace off as housing. Stop for a quick brake in the only green area in town where Julie almost trip over a dark brother sleeping in the kerb near where we just pulled in. She had to go to the toot but decided she could hang on as the public loo was surrounded by brothers and sisters having a smoke, a drink and a sleep. “Get me out of here”, was the consensus. Still the areas out of town were great, like the huge old Prison Tree, The Murglu Billabong with hundreds of birds and The Grotto. Made up for the wasted petrol.
Have been told a meaning of some abbreviations of the couple of states we have just been through. NT (Northern Territory) means – Not today, not tomorrow, not Tuesday and not Thursday WA (Western Australia) means –Wait awhile
Both of these tend to relate to the postal system, which everyone seems to have a problem with a one point or another.
We have been asked by GN’s as we tour around how you manage to live in a 27ft box on wheels with two kids in tow and still seem to be happy enough and not totally insane. Well Julie drinks, so that helps her out a bit, especially after five hours of schoolwork with Jack. Amazing how a ten year old can push someone over the edge and me well “She’ll be right”.
So here is some Van Etiquette
1: Try not to cook inside the van as this just makes everyone hot which makes for cranky people, especially when the smoke alarm isn’t removed (David)
2: If you are in bed, don’t throw yourself around like you are in a washing machine (Tayla) as your home is on wheels and does seem to rock and roll and will come loose of the wheel chocks if you are not careful, and start rolling into the van behind you
3: The fridge is not to help cool your lower parts, keep the door shut (Jack)
4: If you have to use the inside toilet, sit down as most people’s aim isn’t as good as they think especially when your bowl is the size of a Tupperware container
5 : You can have relationships with your other half, but you first have to wait for the teenagers to be asleep and then relate back to point number 4, also ensure your wheels are well greased or you end up with plenty of grins from your neighbours in the morning
6: Space in the van can also be related back to weight. Less is more ladies. You don’t need ten pairs of shoes and clothes for every event you can think of. A pair of shorts, a shirt, a hat and a pair of thongs will get you through most of the social gatherings you will be taking part in ( You are trailer trash don’t forget)
7: Water is of a premium at times, so keep your showers down to ten seconds to get wet, turn off water, and soap up, ten seconds to wash off, get out. If this can be done quicker it will be appreciated, Jack has it down to a fine art, washing his bits and that’s it
8 : Remember you are in a van, there will be people around you, silky curtains don’t hide a lot as you walk past them with the lights on inside (as I was witness to when the lovely eighty year olds beside us decided to parade past her window in her well worn birthday suit)
9: If you are going to pee outside of a night time don’t be surprised to be flashed by some ones torch or spotlight just when you are in full flow
10: While driving from one site to another keep the questions to a minimum to the driver. Like, are we there yet? Where are we going? Do we have to do school work? Can I have a drink? Can I go to the toilet? Can I have something to eat? (JACKSON)
So in answer to most of the questions asked about living full time with the family in tow, it does have its moments but the good far out way the bad. Wouldn’t trade this life for anyone else’s at this stage. Love to everyone back in reality town and wish we could see you all sooner rather than later, but unfortunately that won’t happen this year. Thinking of you all between beers and fish.
Love the Wattevas
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Kakadu to Kununurra
Kakadu – Kununurra
We are here. We finally made it to Western Australia. Only took 18 months, but we got here, and everyone is still alive and kicking. Probably more kicking than alive at times but still going. Still I digress. Last time I left you we were back at the entry to Kakadu.
We made it into the park and decided to spend the night at Merl campground. All our camp books and literature from the information centres showed free campsites and sites that would cost $10/family per night. As we have found with the Northern Territory, that seems to mean jack s^*t. Seems the Aboriginal tribe that now owns and runs the Kakadu region put their prices up two weeks ago and don’t have to tell the rest of the world, it’s just your problem mate. You are here now, what are you going to do? So our first night cost $20. Now I know these aren’t big sums of dollars, but when you convert it back to 7 days a week, 52 weeks a year, every dollar spent on accommodation soon starts to add up, especially when unlike your standard Grey Nomad, we have four in the car instead of two. For your own information, there are no free camp sites in Kakadu anymore, and as of next year you have to pay an extra $25 per vehicle per week just to enter the park. This revenue is on top of the fact that all the established businesses in Kakadu are now owned by the Aborigines, including townships, several caravan parks, the tourist information centre, the croc boat cruises ($95/person and always full), the art sites, the trees you look at, the dirt you walk on, the grass you dare to spend the night on. All this on top of the Government handouts for being of native descent (I was born in Australia but that doesn’t make you a native), not having been able to go to school (we are doing home schooling, why can’t they) and owning a dog (you get $10/dog per week). Unlike many of the GN’s on the road, I am not racist, but am starting to learn how you could become so, not that it is the aborigines fault, but the Australian government in their apparent wisdom has over the years created this stigma between the two cultures, and until you travel in these areas you just don’t realise how bad it has become.
Anyway, I got off track there for a moment (I think I was channelling Mum & Dad). Kakadu itself has been portrayed to us as Kakadont, but really that is unfair to this part of OZ. It really is a beautiful place with plenty of wildlife, flora and natural features around the area to keep you interested. Four wheel drive tracks, crocodiles and FISHING, and movie site observation areas. Remember Croc Dundee, we found the place he walked Linda up to on the cliffs to look down into Rapid Creek where he was attacked by the croc, the place he had a shave, and the water hole where Linda showed her assets in that little G-string swimsuit (what do you mean she has cellulite Jules, what is cellulite? All I saw was a hot butt). Now yes there are prettier parks out there, but I think this really is a place everyone should see at least once in their lifetime. Even if it is going to cost you more to do it in the future ............... sorry, channelling again.
We ended up spending four days in Kakadu, before heading out and back down to Katherine. We really did loved the place, heaps of bushwalks, loads of birdlife, waterholes to swim in and doctored up aboriginal art. Sorry, channelling again.
Just for the hell of it, and because fuel was $1.80/lt out at Kakadu, we tried to see how far we could get on the two tanks of fuel. I said we could make it to Katherine, but Jules wasn’t so sure. Still I was driving, so majority rules. About thirty kilometres out of town I started to worry as we had been on the sub tank with the light on for the past 20 kms. Still we managed to pull into the caravan park and the motor was still going. No problems, right. The next day Dad & I go to work for Power & Water and leave the rest of the clan to get to town in the very low on fuel Toyota. She be right Jules, you’ll get to town no worries at all. Get a phone call that afternoon. You ba$%^*d, we didn’t make it. Oh dear, sorry about that darl, lucky there was a jerry can of fuel on the roof. So now we know how many kilometres we can get out said vehicle, we won’t have to do that again.
Out of Katherine and onto the border. Stayed at a couple of rustic free camps on the way there. Well the sites were alright, but it seems NT doesn’t like to maintain their toilet facilities. First one was good during the day but at night the solar vents didn’t work, and with the mixture of very full toilets and heat, the methane levels coming up from seat as you are doing your business, at the least brought tears to your eyes and at best knocked you out completely. The second stop had something different in that there was no smell but as one is squatting on the throne you get a weird buzzing sensation around your never regions as the flies try to exit the loo at the same time you are taking a seat. Still you got to remember Jules, they were free. She just can’t seem to see the same logic for some reason. Women!
Finally we made it to the Western Australian border and after a brief interlude at quarantine, we were allowed entry. YeeaaHHH! Decided to make our first call out to Lake Argyle about 35km before Kununurra, as it was the weekend and the parks in town would be packed. If any of you come this way this is definitely worth the fuel out for the drive. Beautiful! Drive out through mountain gorges, past massive amounts of birdlife, Pandanus trees, strange shaped rock structures and the odd broken down grey nomad. Stayed at the Lake Argyle tourist village. The staffs here really makes the place, it is probably the only park we have been in where you are made to feel like you are wanted to be there, instead of second class trailer trash that should stay one night and get shoved along the next day. Liked the place so much that I even applied for a job there, but still waiting to hear back from the owner. After numerous treks around in the car and by foot, looking at the history, wildlife and the Ord River Dam ( plus an occasional flick of the lures in croc infested waters), we made our way to Kununurra. Jules phoned ahead to the park we were going to stay at and who should answer the phone, but the lady we met back at Daly Waters with the Retreat van that was falling to pieces. They are both working in town and were very grateful for the company after working here for four weeks. As I said we are awaiting a reply from Lake Argyle, but if that doesn’t happen we may still hang around here for a couple of months as there is plenty of work happening around d town and it’s not really that bad a place at this stage. So until next time
CYA
The Wattevas
P.S
Happy Birthday Beck (bloody magpies)
Happy Birthday Uncle Gary
Missing all our fishing, drinking and card playing buddies.
Happy Fathers Day to you all if we aren’t in touch before.
And Happy Birthday to my little tomboy Goddaughter Caitlyn, give those boys hell.
We are here. We finally made it to Western Australia. Only took 18 months, but we got here, and everyone is still alive and kicking. Probably more kicking than alive at times but still going. Still I digress. Last time I left you we were back at the entry to Kakadu.
We made it into the park and decided to spend the night at Merl campground. All our camp books and literature from the information centres showed free campsites and sites that would cost $10/family per night. As we have found with the Northern Territory, that seems to mean jack s^*t. Seems the Aboriginal tribe that now owns and runs the Kakadu region put their prices up two weeks ago and don’t have to tell the rest of the world, it’s just your problem mate. You are here now, what are you going to do? So our first night cost $20. Now I know these aren’t big sums of dollars, but when you convert it back to 7 days a week, 52 weeks a year, every dollar spent on accommodation soon starts to add up, especially when unlike your standard Grey Nomad, we have four in the car instead of two. For your own information, there are no free camp sites in Kakadu anymore, and as of next year you have to pay an extra $25 per vehicle per week just to enter the park. This revenue is on top of the fact that all the established businesses in Kakadu are now owned by the Aborigines, including townships, several caravan parks, the tourist information centre, the croc boat cruises ($95/person and always full), the art sites, the trees you look at, the dirt you walk on, the grass you dare to spend the night on. All this on top of the Government handouts for being of native descent (I was born in Australia but that doesn’t make you a native), not having been able to go to school (we are doing home schooling, why can’t they) and owning a dog (you get $10/dog per week). Unlike many of the GN’s on the road, I am not racist, but am starting to learn how you could become so, not that it is the aborigines fault, but the Australian government in their apparent wisdom has over the years created this stigma between the two cultures, and until you travel in these areas you just don’t realise how bad it has become.
Anyway, I got off track there for a moment (I think I was channelling Mum & Dad). Kakadu itself has been portrayed to us as Kakadont, but really that is unfair to this part of OZ. It really is a beautiful place with plenty of wildlife, flora and natural features around the area to keep you interested. Four wheel drive tracks, crocodiles and FISHING, and movie site observation areas. Remember Croc Dundee, we found the place he walked Linda up to on the cliffs to look down into Rapid Creek where he was attacked by the croc, the place he had a shave, and the water hole where Linda showed her assets in that little G-string swimsuit (what do you mean she has cellulite Jules, what is cellulite? All I saw was a hot butt). Now yes there are prettier parks out there, but I think this really is a place everyone should see at least once in their lifetime. Even if it is going to cost you more to do it in the future ............... sorry, channelling again.
We ended up spending four days in Kakadu, before heading out and back down to Katherine. We really did loved the place, heaps of bushwalks, loads of birdlife, waterholes to swim in and doctored up aboriginal art. Sorry, channelling again.
Just for the hell of it, and because fuel was $1.80/lt out at Kakadu, we tried to see how far we could get on the two tanks of fuel. I said we could make it to Katherine, but Jules wasn’t so sure. Still I was driving, so majority rules. About thirty kilometres out of town I started to worry as we had been on the sub tank with the light on for the past 20 kms. Still we managed to pull into the caravan park and the motor was still going. No problems, right. The next day Dad & I go to work for Power & Water and leave the rest of the clan to get to town in the very low on fuel Toyota. She be right Jules, you’ll get to town no worries at all. Get a phone call that afternoon. You ba$%^*d, we didn’t make it. Oh dear, sorry about that darl, lucky there was a jerry can of fuel on the roof. So now we know how many kilometres we can get out said vehicle, we won’t have to do that again.
Out of Katherine and onto the border. Stayed at a couple of rustic free camps on the way there. Well the sites were alright, but it seems NT doesn’t like to maintain their toilet facilities. First one was good during the day but at night the solar vents didn’t work, and with the mixture of very full toilets and heat, the methane levels coming up from seat as you are doing your business, at the least brought tears to your eyes and at best knocked you out completely. The second stop had something different in that there was no smell but as one is squatting on the throne you get a weird buzzing sensation around your never regions as the flies try to exit the loo at the same time you are taking a seat. Still you got to remember Jules, they were free. She just can’t seem to see the same logic for some reason. Women!
Finally we made it to the Western Australian border and after a brief interlude at quarantine, we were allowed entry. YeeaaHHH! Decided to make our first call out to Lake Argyle about 35km before Kununurra, as it was the weekend and the parks in town would be packed. If any of you come this way this is definitely worth the fuel out for the drive. Beautiful! Drive out through mountain gorges, past massive amounts of birdlife, Pandanus trees, strange shaped rock structures and the odd broken down grey nomad. Stayed at the Lake Argyle tourist village. The staffs here really makes the place, it is probably the only park we have been in where you are made to feel like you are wanted to be there, instead of second class trailer trash that should stay one night and get shoved along the next day. Liked the place so much that I even applied for a job there, but still waiting to hear back from the owner. After numerous treks around in the car and by foot, looking at the history, wildlife and the Ord River Dam ( plus an occasional flick of the lures in croc infested waters), we made our way to Kununurra. Jules phoned ahead to the park we were going to stay at and who should answer the phone, but the lady we met back at Daly Waters with the Retreat van that was falling to pieces. They are both working in town and were very grateful for the company after working here for four weeks. As I said we are awaiting a reply from Lake Argyle, but if that doesn’t happen we may still hang around here for a couple of months as there is plenty of work happening around d town and it’s not really that bad a place at this stage. So until next time
CYA
The Wattevas
P.S
Happy Birthday Beck (bloody magpies)
Happy Birthday Uncle Gary
Missing all our fishing, drinking and card playing buddies.
Happy Fathers Day to you all if we aren’t in touch before.
And Happy Birthday to my little tomboy Goddaughter Caitlyn, give those boys hell.
Darwin to Kakadu
Darwin – Kakadu
I CAUGHT A BARRA!!!! It’s been about four weeks since we last spoke and a fair bit has happened since then. Darwin is a nice place, might even live there, if it wasn’t so bloody hot. This is supposed to be their cool time but still we had the air con on every night, swam in the pool most days and basically tried whatever we could to keep cool. Not a good time to be in town as it is full of bloody southerners. Funny how the Victorian number plate says “The Place To Be”, and yet all the b@#$!@#s seem to be up here or in North Queensland. Checked out a few of the sights around town in the first week, including the free Cyclone Tracey museum, the underground oil pipelines from WW2, the wharf precinct and all the war memorabilia around this pretty city. They have markets here most days of the week, but the biggest is at Mindil beach where you can get a meal from about thirty different vendors plus all the usual knick knacks.
We tried our hand at a bit of fishing around the area up some of the rivers near the harbour. It is a fishing Mecca for those that enjoy this sport. I caught my first Mangrove Jack, plus plenty of Bream, Finger Marks and some huge Batfish. Not to mention the Mud crabs. Ohhh the Mud crabs. They are bloody huuuuge. Plus you can keep the females up here. There is no size limit on any fish except Barramundi and you can take thirty fish each per day. Of course there is the occasional Croc you have to dodge or keep your distance from as they tend to dwarf Dad’s 12ft tinnie.
As a side note, it would appear you don’t need to use bait to catch these massive Muddies either. Just ask Mum about the way she brought one into the boat. She came back to the caravan park that afternoon a little earlier than expected with two decent sized muddies and her hand wrapped up with bloody bandages. Seems she tried to feed one of her fingers to the muddie as it was coming out of the pot. She kept the finger and the crab, so all went well until the finger stopped being numb and started throbbing for the next week. Oh that’s right, I wasn’t supposed to tell you of this little event.
HEY I CAUGHT A BARRA!
We had a day out at the Coonawarra Naval Base, where Darwin was invited to come along and see the real Sea Patrol less Lisa McCune and her pathetic crew. Was a top free day, got to see how the patrol boats worked and talk to the real members of the Navy. Had a display with their inflatable runabouts, showing how they board a suspect boat. Funny part of the tour was down inside one of the PT boats in the mess room for the junior officers they had Sea Patrol playing. Hope this was just a joke and not what they actually watch. We ran into Pete & Corrine (the couple from Dubbo we’ve been following from one state to the other) and found out they were working on one of the local properties picking cucumbers. We also caught up with Alan & Lynda our friends with the big truck “Highway Hilton” had a lovely dinner on the beach and watched the sun go down.
We did a week’s work for Power and Water (the local Ergon) which paid for the camp fees and some petrol. Tried a few restaurants, visited a few shops, did some more repairs on the vehicle and basically spent more than we earned. Got to stay away from the big cities. If there was a criticism about Darwin, it would be the prices, not so much the basics like groceries and fuel, but the tourist and housing side of things. The caravan parks are expensive ( for what you get) and they don’t have a lot of spare spots, the tourist tours like fishing charters or croc parks don’t hold back either. The house prices to buy or to rent are extravagant on the verge of outpricing Brisbane ($450/week for a two bedroom, one bathroom house).
Still you can find plenty to like about the city to out way the negatives. The people seem friendly, the fishing is great, and the city is not unattractive. The locals up here are right into fitness. Every morning and afternoon you can drive up the main roads in the area and find people running, walking or riding their bikes. The afternoon sunset over the western waters is amazing, as soon as that golden globe hits the water it is gone within 60 seconds. We took to kids to the end of the airport runway, which is in the centre of several suburbs, to watch the F18’s land after flight manoeuvres. Awesome. Tayla didn’t agree, but stiff.
I CAUGHT A BARRA!
We spent a day out touring the out skirts of the city. Swam at the Berry Springs for about an hour. We went to The Territory Park as we had a voucher and it wasn’t that dear. Turned out to be a top idea. All the displays are either in a natural environment or can be viewed inside a cage (where you are in the cage) or through glass. Where going for an hour and ended up staying for five. A must do if you come to this area and love animals and birds. The only drawback is the walking. Of course you could hop on the tram, but you just don’t get the same effect “Do you, Jules?” Checked out Hidden Valley where they hold the annual V8 supercars (missed it by a week, “Bugger hey” says Jules).
We finished our visit to Darwin with a Seafood buffet at Darwin Casino. Crab, prawns, Desserts, fish, oysters, mussels, Desserts, Chinese, Greek, Salads, Desserts all for $22pp and $2.50 schooners. Brilliant.
Of course while you are at a casino you have to have a go a winning a fortune. Luckily the casino gods were on my side that night and I was able to walk away even instead of down a tank of petrol. I almost forgot we were in Darwin in time to see the beer can regatta. An annual event that happens at Mindl beach. A full day of beach games (Jack and Tayla tried the tug-o-war, both lost), markets, fresh food, ironman events and the sailing of the creations made by the locals. They have a year to drink beer and make a boat out of the said cans to carry four people around a laid out course on the waters of Mindl Beach. Yes on the waters where you know there has been and probably will be seen again plenty of crocs and sharks and box jellyfish. Needless to say there is a lot of spotters on the waters and lifesavers galore, plus the occasional chopper to ensure that the fun doesn’t come to an end. The idea is to get around the course as quick as possible without your vessel falling apart either by water, flour and egg bombs or any other sort of sabotage that the other competitors can inflict on you.
I CAUGHT A BARRA!
We pulled out of Darwin after three weeks and made our way towards Kakadu. On the way we had to stop at the Reidy lure factory to see how they are made. It really was interesting to see how they are manufactured by the 7 women working in his factory. It appears that age might be starting to creep up on me. Another tale to appease the missus. Seems Jack borrowed the car keys before going into the tour and gave the keys back to someone. After realising he didn’t have the keys anymore and Julie couldn’t find them in her hand luggage, she calls a handbag, and after an hour of walking around outside and inside the shop and the car park, it was brought to my attention the a might be a F%^$#wit as they appeared to be hanging from my pants right beside my wallet. Of course I pointed out that as my wallet and the keys are about the same thickness and weight it was probably a reasonable mistake to make. I guess a back rub and a couple of beers might be required tonight to soothe the savage beast.
Spent the night at Corrobeeree then did a run out to Shady Camp the following day for a fish. It is supposed to be the place to catch a Barra. If you can’t catch one there then you aren’t meant to catch one. The only drawback is that there are also more crocodiles here per area than anywhere in the world. “She be right Jules, no one has ever been taken here.” So we pull up to the barrage and before we even get a chance to turn off the motor, Jack is yelling bloody huge croc. So we venture out of the car and walk 50 metres to the barrage and thus far have spotted five. Two about three foot, two about six and one at least 14 feet. Bugger! We wander up to the bird hide and look around for ten minutes and spot another ten of varying sizes. S%$t! Still there are fish there. “Let’s give it a go!” “Are you sh#$*ng me?” asks my beloved. She’ll be right, darl. Just a couple of flicks while you watch for the crocs. So you start flicking off the barrage into the fast dropping water. Salt on one side and fresh on the other, and crocs all around. What a buzz. After a half hour of casting, snagging the rocks, losing lures, and watching one cheeky fourteen foot croc pop his head up out of the water ten metres in front of us every now and then, a bloke near us hooked up and pulled in a 74cm Barramundi. “Told you they were there Hon”. So after changing rubbers (lure that is) and three more casts and I hook up on my first ever Barra. After a nice little play (about five minutes worth) I pulled in a 75cm Salt Water Barramundi. Un %$*&ing believable. And the crocs didn’t get it or us, what a bonus. Of course not everyone was happy. Seems the old couple near us had been trying for five days, and I dare to be here half an hour and pull in a snodger. The inhumanity of it all. Bloody Victorians; go back to The Place To Be.
Kakadu is next on the agenda, so I will write next week.
Bye for now
The Wattevas
Love and our thoughts are with those that need it at this time.
And to the rest of you “I CAUGHT A BARRA, did I tell ya?”
I CAUGHT A BARRA!!!! It’s been about four weeks since we last spoke and a fair bit has happened since then. Darwin is a nice place, might even live there, if it wasn’t so bloody hot. This is supposed to be their cool time but still we had the air con on every night, swam in the pool most days and basically tried whatever we could to keep cool. Not a good time to be in town as it is full of bloody southerners. Funny how the Victorian number plate says “The Place To Be”, and yet all the b@#$!@#s seem to be up here or in North Queensland. Checked out a few of the sights around town in the first week, including the free Cyclone Tracey museum, the underground oil pipelines from WW2, the wharf precinct and all the war memorabilia around this pretty city. They have markets here most days of the week, but the biggest is at Mindil beach where you can get a meal from about thirty different vendors plus all the usual knick knacks.
We tried our hand at a bit of fishing around the area up some of the rivers near the harbour. It is a fishing Mecca for those that enjoy this sport. I caught my first Mangrove Jack, plus plenty of Bream, Finger Marks and some huge Batfish. Not to mention the Mud crabs. Ohhh the Mud crabs. They are bloody huuuuge. Plus you can keep the females up here. There is no size limit on any fish except Barramundi and you can take thirty fish each per day. Of course there is the occasional Croc you have to dodge or keep your distance from as they tend to dwarf Dad’s 12ft tinnie.
As a side note, it would appear you don’t need to use bait to catch these massive Muddies either. Just ask Mum about the way she brought one into the boat. She came back to the caravan park that afternoon a little earlier than expected with two decent sized muddies and her hand wrapped up with bloody bandages. Seems she tried to feed one of her fingers to the muddie as it was coming out of the pot. She kept the finger and the crab, so all went well until the finger stopped being numb and started throbbing for the next week. Oh that’s right, I wasn’t supposed to tell you of this little event.
HEY I CAUGHT A BARRA!
We had a day out at the Coonawarra Naval Base, where Darwin was invited to come along and see the real Sea Patrol less Lisa McCune and her pathetic crew. Was a top free day, got to see how the patrol boats worked and talk to the real members of the Navy. Had a display with their inflatable runabouts, showing how they board a suspect boat. Funny part of the tour was down inside one of the PT boats in the mess room for the junior officers they had Sea Patrol playing. Hope this was just a joke and not what they actually watch. We ran into Pete & Corrine (the couple from Dubbo we’ve been following from one state to the other) and found out they were working on one of the local properties picking cucumbers. We also caught up with Alan & Lynda our friends with the big truck “Highway Hilton” had a lovely dinner on the beach and watched the sun go down.
We did a week’s work for Power and Water (the local Ergon) which paid for the camp fees and some petrol. Tried a few restaurants, visited a few shops, did some more repairs on the vehicle and basically spent more than we earned. Got to stay away from the big cities. If there was a criticism about Darwin, it would be the prices, not so much the basics like groceries and fuel, but the tourist and housing side of things. The caravan parks are expensive ( for what you get) and they don’t have a lot of spare spots, the tourist tours like fishing charters or croc parks don’t hold back either. The house prices to buy or to rent are extravagant on the verge of outpricing Brisbane ($450/week for a two bedroom, one bathroom house).
Still you can find plenty to like about the city to out way the negatives. The people seem friendly, the fishing is great, and the city is not unattractive. The locals up here are right into fitness. Every morning and afternoon you can drive up the main roads in the area and find people running, walking or riding their bikes. The afternoon sunset over the western waters is amazing, as soon as that golden globe hits the water it is gone within 60 seconds. We took to kids to the end of the airport runway, which is in the centre of several suburbs, to watch the F18’s land after flight manoeuvres. Awesome. Tayla didn’t agree, but stiff.
I CAUGHT A BARRA!
We spent a day out touring the out skirts of the city. Swam at the Berry Springs for about an hour. We went to The Territory Park as we had a voucher and it wasn’t that dear. Turned out to be a top idea. All the displays are either in a natural environment or can be viewed inside a cage (where you are in the cage) or through glass. Where going for an hour and ended up staying for five. A must do if you come to this area and love animals and birds. The only drawback is the walking. Of course you could hop on the tram, but you just don’t get the same effect “Do you, Jules?” Checked out Hidden Valley where they hold the annual V8 supercars (missed it by a week, “Bugger hey” says Jules).
We finished our visit to Darwin with a Seafood buffet at Darwin Casino. Crab, prawns, Desserts, fish, oysters, mussels, Desserts, Chinese, Greek, Salads, Desserts all for $22pp and $2.50 schooners. Brilliant.
Of course while you are at a casino you have to have a go a winning a fortune. Luckily the casino gods were on my side that night and I was able to walk away even instead of down a tank of petrol. I almost forgot we were in Darwin in time to see the beer can regatta. An annual event that happens at Mindl beach. A full day of beach games (Jack and Tayla tried the tug-o-war, both lost), markets, fresh food, ironman events and the sailing of the creations made by the locals. They have a year to drink beer and make a boat out of the said cans to carry four people around a laid out course on the waters of Mindl Beach. Yes on the waters where you know there has been and probably will be seen again plenty of crocs and sharks and box jellyfish. Needless to say there is a lot of spotters on the waters and lifesavers galore, plus the occasional chopper to ensure that the fun doesn’t come to an end. The idea is to get around the course as quick as possible without your vessel falling apart either by water, flour and egg bombs or any other sort of sabotage that the other competitors can inflict on you.
I CAUGHT A BARRA!
We pulled out of Darwin after three weeks and made our way towards Kakadu. On the way we had to stop at the Reidy lure factory to see how they are made. It really was interesting to see how they are manufactured by the 7 women working in his factory. It appears that age might be starting to creep up on me. Another tale to appease the missus. Seems Jack borrowed the car keys before going into the tour and gave the keys back to someone. After realising he didn’t have the keys anymore and Julie couldn’t find them in her hand luggage, she calls a handbag, and after an hour of walking around outside and inside the shop and the car park, it was brought to my attention the a might be a F%^$#wit as they appeared to be hanging from my pants right beside my wallet. Of course I pointed out that as my wallet and the keys are about the same thickness and weight it was probably a reasonable mistake to make. I guess a back rub and a couple of beers might be required tonight to soothe the savage beast.
Spent the night at Corrobeeree then did a run out to Shady Camp the following day for a fish. It is supposed to be the place to catch a Barra. If you can’t catch one there then you aren’t meant to catch one. The only drawback is that there are also more crocodiles here per area than anywhere in the world. “She be right Jules, no one has ever been taken here.” So we pull up to the barrage and before we even get a chance to turn off the motor, Jack is yelling bloody huge croc. So we venture out of the car and walk 50 metres to the barrage and thus far have spotted five. Two about three foot, two about six and one at least 14 feet. Bugger! We wander up to the bird hide and look around for ten minutes and spot another ten of varying sizes. S%$t! Still there are fish there. “Let’s give it a go!” “Are you sh#$*ng me?” asks my beloved. She’ll be right, darl. Just a couple of flicks while you watch for the crocs. So you start flicking off the barrage into the fast dropping water. Salt on one side and fresh on the other, and crocs all around. What a buzz. After a half hour of casting, snagging the rocks, losing lures, and watching one cheeky fourteen foot croc pop his head up out of the water ten metres in front of us every now and then, a bloke near us hooked up and pulled in a 74cm Barramundi. “Told you they were there Hon”. So after changing rubbers (lure that is) and three more casts and I hook up on my first ever Barra. After a nice little play (about five minutes worth) I pulled in a 75cm Salt Water Barramundi. Un %$*&ing believable. And the crocs didn’t get it or us, what a bonus. Of course not everyone was happy. Seems the old couple near us had been trying for five days, and I dare to be here half an hour and pull in a snodger. The inhumanity of it all. Bloody Victorians; go back to The Place To Be.
Kakadu is next on the agenda, so I will write next week.
Bye for now
The Wattevas
Love and our thoughts are with those that need it at this time.
And to the rest of you “I CAUGHT A BARRA, did I tell ya?”
Friday, July 3, 2009
Cloncurry to Darwin
Cloncurry to Darwin
We’ve left Cloncurry and made our way on to Mt Isa. The Curry wasn’t as bad as last time we were there, but you still have to wonder why anyone would want to live in this god forsaken hole. Pulled into the Isa and had to make our way straight to Maccas so Jules could have her cuppa. She’s quite a big town with two mines stuck right in the middle of it. Did some work for Ergon while Toyota had another look at the car to try and find out what the problem with it is? Bloody petrol heap of #@$%. Maybe that $90 million will drop tonight and I can leave this thing on the side of the road. (Mt Isa fuel $1.15/lt go figure).
We spent a week in town and moved on through Camooweal (fuel $1.40/lt) and a short way up the road finally made it to the Northern Territory border, Yeah!
Hundreds of kilometres, as far as the eye could see of Spinifex grass, Prickly Acacias and red dirt, with the occasional cow herd and Wedge Tailed Eagle to break the boredom. We spent the night at Avon Downs, which is a free campsite outside a cop station and nothing else for 100 kms, except the occasional road train through the night again. Another free night and we come to the Three Ways, which is where the Barkley Highway from Qld meets the Stuart Highway through the centre of Northern Territory. We took the 25km drive down to Tennant Creek to have a look around and get some fuel. We aren’t in Kansas anymore Toto. Dust storms, no grass, whirly whirlys, stinkin hot, Aboriginals laying in the gutters and the smell. Apparently the smell is because of what the locals eat, much the same as Indians with their curries, except these guys eat Goanna and Emu.
Back out of Tennant Creek and up the Stuart past Renner Springs and Elliot and into the little township of Daly Waters. We spent the night just out of town at the old historical RAF base where we met another couple with two girls and who had also bought a Retreat caravan. Difference was they had a list as long as your arm of problems they have had with their van. We must have been the lucky ones. Their awning has cracked, the fridge fell out of it’s mounts and blew up, the toilet packed it in, their table came out of the floor, one of the girls beds has to be dried out every morning as the floor underneath it sweats, the oven had to be replaced, the gas leaked, the microwave fell out of it’s hole and they our now on their third air conditioner. Then to top it off that night the youngest girl chipped her tooth and they had to make their way to a dentist. Needless to say we got away from them as quickly as possible as I didn’t want to attract the voodoo from the chinaman that they must have run over. The following morning we made our way over to the township with the famous Daly Waters Pub. Very different, the walls were covered with hats, badges, number plates, thongs, medals, money, bras and G-strings all signed by those that had been here in the past and wanted to leave their mark. Didn’t stay here, mainly because of the price. $30 a night with no power or water, burgers and meals all around $15 - $25 and a beer would set you back $6.50.
On the way to Mataranka I had seen brochures about one of the characters of the Territory and decided to stop in at Larrimah to try one of Fran’s homemade pies. Before you get to her shop you pass a petrol station which has been burnt to the ground (maybe someone objected to the price of fuel), which sort of doesn’t add to the image of the town. One thing we have learnt in our travels is don’t believe everything you read, as far as one the characters of the Territory, well, you walk into what is probably an old garage with tables and chairs set up outside in an area covered with paper clippings and stories and a fairly large menu of pies, sausage rolls, cakes and Devonshire teas. You are hollered at through the old style flyscreen to, “take a seat and I will get to you when I get a chance, as I am doing this by myself you know.” Every now and then a four foot granny that looks like a hobbit from Lord of the Rings, with the grey hair and large bare feet to match, would pop her head out of what was supposed to be a kitchen, flop down a coffee or cake on the table near the door and yell out ‘ere it is. We decided not to partake in her little fantasy world and on the way out asked a couple how much they paid as there were no prices up anywhere. They had a sliver of cake and a small cup of coffee each for the cheap price (according to Fran) of $24.00. After lifting Julie’s mouth off the floor, we made our way back to the cars and proceeded to hear about the cup of coffee for the next two hours as my beloved kept repeating “You have got to be F#@*ing joking , $12 for a cake and cuppa!”
We pulled into Mataranka, where Mum had to by some wine (as she had been on the dries for two days, and it was starting to show). After entering the locked vault where they kept the alcohol, making their selection, having their licence swiped ( so you couldn’t buy anymore in one day) and paying the premium price for their vice, we moved down to a caravan park for the night. Now you may have noticed in the past stories that most of the travellers with me cop a bit of a pasting for doing stupid things. I’ve been ordered to rectify this little slip by putting in a little mistake that I may have made today. It seems that while we were trying to find a spot to park, an old bloke said to me come look at this spot over near him. No worries, so I hop out for a walk down to the site, get about fifty metres from the van, when an ample amount of yelling and screaming is emitted from were I had come. Seems if you leave the car in drive and forget to apply the handbrake, it has a tendency to drive off by itself up the road, with van, Mum and Julie in hot pursuit. BUGGER!!!!! Still no harm done.
Mataranka is where we got to try our first thermal pools of the Northern Territory. The first was fairly ho hum, mainly because it was a small area and full of people. So you didn’t know if the water was warm because of the stream or from the stream coming from the groups around you. Bitter Springs near where we camped was much better. Crystal clear water, a handful of people and a constant water temp of 33 degrees. We put on the goggles and swam for about an hour through what was like a huge fish pond. Fish all around, the occasional turtle and tree trunks and grasses that made it look just like a fish tank that I used to own.
Made the drive the next day up to Katherine, which is a surprisingly large town. Had a walk through the Cutta Cutta caves which was well worth the dollars and the little bit of exercise. After camping near the cemetery ( free, and the aboriginals won’t come near it) and a morning walk up the Katherine Gorge it was time to keep heading north and into the Douglas Daly campsite, cheap national park but no grass at the campsites ( makes Jules so happy). Still there were thermal pools and a good walk up through the Butterfly Gorge. Of course only Tayla and myself did the walk up and over into the gorge. It was a good walk over rocky cliffs and down into the serene gorge, all went well until about two metres from the bottom Tayla decided it was okay to stop thinking about the walk down, and that is when accidents happen. After dragging herself up from the tree and grass debris mongst the boulders, we found that you couldn’t get around the gorge which meant we had to walk back up the hill again. This made her oh so happy! We were heading back to the car park, when the leader (Jack) decided to start screaming like a banshee and did the bolt up to the car. It appears that he may have spotted a snake and decided it was every person for themselves. Threw a couple of lures in the creek and came up with a long tom on the first cast. Then Jack thought he would show us how it was done by bagging his first Barra. Little B#@*&^!d.
Dinner that night was a roast chock in the camp oven with roast spuds and pumpkin in alfoil. Tommo eat your heart out. Moved on to Litchfield National Park where you can’t fit caravans of our size into the national park so the commercial parks range from $35 - $70 but luckily we found one for $30. Started the day early as it was going to be a long one. This made a couple of our party nervous. Into Florence Falls where mum said there is a lookout only 500m down the track. Cool, now let’s do the walk around the shady track, only 1.5km. I may not have mentioned at the time that, that was one way only. Oh well, do us gooood! This scenario went on for the first half of the day, look at a waterfall, have a walk and a swim to cool off, both temperature and tempers. Wangi Falls was the most popular of the areas as it was readily accessible by everyone. Had a swim with the goggles and spotted some huge Sooty Grunter and towards the end of our swim a Water Snake which of course led to the inevitable yelling and a departing of the water by the young hero of the family. Jesus had nothing on Jackson when it comes to walking on water. Now it was time for the four wheel driving part of our tour. All goes well till we hit the first water crossing. “You sure we should try this?” “Looks a bit deep!” “I don’t think anyone could explain it to my sisters if we drowned, in the car” “I won’t forgive you!”
After passing through the 800mm deep creek, “I never doubted you Darl!” Riiiiggghhhtt! We had to pass another coronary area then came to Blyth homestead which is an old shack about he size of a garage where the Blyth’s raised 14 children 200km’s from civilization.
Need to mention a bit of bush toilet etiquette at this point. When the urge comes and you are miles from facilities you gotta do what ya gotta do. Few tips- 1)Make sure hole is deep enough (bit hard to redig when full of your sample) 2)Forget about humility and remove those pants entirely (stops you from peeing all over them while squatting) 3)Move your thongs away from the area you are using (saves you from the same problem as No.2) 4)Ensure you have toilet paper in your vehicle before partaking in this bush activity (saves using gum leaves, never use Sandpaper Gum leaves, I’m sure can understand why) 5) Ensure you have baby wipes to clean your hands and bottom after tripping backwards into the pile you have just deposited. Now I only mention this because after making these mistakes it was thought we should pass on some valuable advice, and embarrass myself for a change. Happy now Jules?
Still, don’t get mad, get even. By the end of the day we had walk 9km’s, swum in five waterholes and belly ached for several hours about why are we doing this again? We are having a rest tomorrow and then making our way to Darwin, where we should be for a couple of weeks. You can get us on the mobile or email during this period.
Personal notes-
HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Lover, another year, another wrinkle. Hopefully somewhere where no one will notice. Love ya.
Macca hope work is still being good to you and the women in your life aren’t too frustrating. Gotta love them. So I’m told.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Brooke. Sorry she couldn’t be there for your milestone. We were all there in spirit!
To all you Blue supporters SUCK S*&T!
To all you Ford supporters Get stuffed!
Thinking of you Bevan and Margit.
R & R hope everyone has settled into Rocky okay and Sam is feeling better sooner rather than later. Randall we met a Detective in Mt Isa, said she knew you from Albany Creek and wanted to know if you had been locked up yet? How’s Woorabinda? Can’t be anything like what the Territorians have to put up with.
Missing everyone.
The Wattevas
We’ve left Cloncurry and made our way on to Mt Isa. The Curry wasn’t as bad as last time we were there, but you still have to wonder why anyone would want to live in this god forsaken hole. Pulled into the Isa and had to make our way straight to Maccas so Jules could have her cuppa. She’s quite a big town with two mines stuck right in the middle of it. Did some work for Ergon while Toyota had another look at the car to try and find out what the problem with it is? Bloody petrol heap of #@$%. Maybe that $90 million will drop tonight and I can leave this thing on the side of the road. (Mt Isa fuel $1.15/lt go figure).
We spent a week in town and moved on through Camooweal (fuel $1.40/lt) and a short way up the road finally made it to the Northern Territory border, Yeah!
Hundreds of kilometres, as far as the eye could see of Spinifex grass, Prickly Acacias and red dirt, with the occasional cow herd and Wedge Tailed Eagle to break the boredom. We spent the night at Avon Downs, which is a free campsite outside a cop station and nothing else for 100 kms, except the occasional road train through the night again. Another free night and we come to the Three Ways, which is where the Barkley Highway from Qld meets the Stuart Highway through the centre of Northern Territory. We took the 25km drive down to Tennant Creek to have a look around and get some fuel. We aren’t in Kansas anymore Toto. Dust storms, no grass, whirly whirlys, stinkin hot, Aboriginals laying in the gutters and the smell. Apparently the smell is because of what the locals eat, much the same as Indians with their curries, except these guys eat Goanna and Emu.
Back out of Tennant Creek and up the Stuart past Renner Springs and Elliot and into the little township of Daly Waters. We spent the night just out of town at the old historical RAF base where we met another couple with two girls and who had also bought a Retreat caravan. Difference was they had a list as long as your arm of problems they have had with their van. We must have been the lucky ones. Their awning has cracked, the fridge fell out of it’s mounts and blew up, the toilet packed it in, their table came out of the floor, one of the girls beds has to be dried out every morning as the floor underneath it sweats, the oven had to be replaced, the gas leaked, the microwave fell out of it’s hole and they our now on their third air conditioner. Then to top it off that night the youngest girl chipped her tooth and they had to make their way to a dentist. Needless to say we got away from them as quickly as possible as I didn’t want to attract the voodoo from the chinaman that they must have run over. The following morning we made our way over to the township with the famous Daly Waters Pub. Very different, the walls were covered with hats, badges, number plates, thongs, medals, money, bras and G-strings all signed by those that had been here in the past and wanted to leave their mark. Didn’t stay here, mainly because of the price. $30 a night with no power or water, burgers and meals all around $15 - $25 and a beer would set you back $6.50.
On the way to Mataranka I had seen brochures about one of the characters of the Territory and decided to stop in at Larrimah to try one of Fran’s homemade pies. Before you get to her shop you pass a petrol station which has been burnt to the ground (maybe someone objected to the price of fuel), which sort of doesn’t add to the image of the town. One thing we have learnt in our travels is don’t believe everything you read, as far as one the characters of the Territory, well, you walk into what is probably an old garage with tables and chairs set up outside in an area covered with paper clippings and stories and a fairly large menu of pies, sausage rolls, cakes and Devonshire teas. You are hollered at through the old style flyscreen to, “take a seat and I will get to you when I get a chance, as I am doing this by myself you know.” Every now and then a four foot granny that looks like a hobbit from Lord of the Rings, with the grey hair and large bare feet to match, would pop her head out of what was supposed to be a kitchen, flop down a coffee or cake on the table near the door and yell out ‘ere it is. We decided not to partake in her little fantasy world and on the way out asked a couple how much they paid as there were no prices up anywhere. They had a sliver of cake and a small cup of coffee each for the cheap price (according to Fran) of $24.00. After lifting Julie’s mouth off the floor, we made our way back to the cars and proceeded to hear about the cup of coffee for the next two hours as my beloved kept repeating “You have got to be F#@*ing joking , $12 for a cake and cuppa!”
We pulled into Mataranka, where Mum had to by some wine (as she had been on the dries for two days, and it was starting to show). After entering the locked vault where they kept the alcohol, making their selection, having their licence swiped ( so you couldn’t buy anymore in one day) and paying the premium price for their vice, we moved down to a caravan park for the night. Now you may have noticed in the past stories that most of the travellers with me cop a bit of a pasting for doing stupid things. I’ve been ordered to rectify this little slip by putting in a little mistake that I may have made today. It seems that while we were trying to find a spot to park, an old bloke said to me come look at this spot over near him. No worries, so I hop out for a walk down to the site, get about fifty metres from the van, when an ample amount of yelling and screaming is emitted from were I had come. Seems if you leave the car in drive and forget to apply the handbrake, it has a tendency to drive off by itself up the road, with van, Mum and Julie in hot pursuit. BUGGER!!!!! Still no harm done.
Mataranka is where we got to try our first thermal pools of the Northern Territory. The first was fairly ho hum, mainly because it was a small area and full of people. So you didn’t know if the water was warm because of the stream or from the stream coming from the groups around you. Bitter Springs near where we camped was much better. Crystal clear water, a handful of people and a constant water temp of 33 degrees. We put on the goggles and swam for about an hour through what was like a huge fish pond. Fish all around, the occasional turtle and tree trunks and grasses that made it look just like a fish tank that I used to own.
Made the drive the next day up to Katherine, which is a surprisingly large town. Had a walk through the Cutta Cutta caves which was well worth the dollars and the little bit of exercise. After camping near the cemetery ( free, and the aboriginals won’t come near it) and a morning walk up the Katherine Gorge it was time to keep heading north and into the Douglas Daly campsite, cheap national park but no grass at the campsites ( makes Jules so happy). Still there were thermal pools and a good walk up through the Butterfly Gorge. Of course only Tayla and myself did the walk up and over into the gorge. It was a good walk over rocky cliffs and down into the serene gorge, all went well until about two metres from the bottom Tayla decided it was okay to stop thinking about the walk down, and that is when accidents happen. After dragging herself up from the tree and grass debris mongst the boulders, we found that you couldn’t get around the gorge which meant we had to walk back up the hill again. This made her oh so happy! We were heading back to the car park, when the leader (Jack) decided to start screaming like a banshee and did the bolt up to the car. It appears that he may have spotted a snake and decided it was every person for themselves. Threw a couple of lures in the creek and came up with a long tom on the first cast. Then Jack thought he would show us how it was done by bagging his first Barra. Little B#@*&^!d.
Dinner that night was a roast chock in the camp oven with roast spuds and pumpkin in alfoil. Tommo eat your heart out. Moved on to Litchfield National Park where you can’t fit caravans of our size into the national park so the commercial parks range from $35 - $70 but luckily we found one for $30. Started the day early as it was going to be a long one. This made a couple of our party nervous. Into Florence Falls where mum said there is a lookout only 500m down the track. Cool, now let’s do the walk around the shady track, only 1.5km. I may not have mentioned at the time that, that was one way only. Oh well, do us gooood! This scenario went on for the first half of the day, look at a waterfall, have a walk and a swim to cool off, both temperature and tempers. Wangi Falls was the most popular of the areas as it was readily accessible by everyone. Had a swim with the goggles and spotted some huge Sooty Grunter and towards the end of our swim a Water Snake which of course led to the inevitable yelling and a departing of the water by the young hero of the family. Jesus had nothing on Jackson when it comes to walking on water. Now it was time for the four wheel driving part of our tour. All goes well till we hit the first water crossing. “You sure we should try this?” “Looks a bit deep!” “I don’t think anyone could explain it to my sisters if we drowned, in the car” “I won’t forgive you!”
After passing through the 800mm deep creek, “I never doubted you Darl!” Riiiiggghhhtt! We had to pass another coronary area then came to Blyth homestead which is an old shack about he size of a garage where the Blyth’s raised 14 children 200km’s from civilization.
Need to mention a bit of bush toilet etiquette at this point. When the urge comes and you are miles from facilities you gotta do what ya gotta do. Few tips- 1)Make sure hole is deep enough (bit hard to redig when full of your sample) 2)Forget about humility and remove those pants entirely (stops you from peeing all over them while squatting) 3)Move your thongs away from the area you are using (saves you from the same problem as No.2) 4)Ensure you have toilet paper in your vehicle before partaking in this bush activity (saves using gum leaves, never use Sandpaper Gum leaves, I’m sure can understand why) 5) Ensure you have baby wipes to clean your hands and bottom after tripping backwards into the pile you have just deposited. Now I only mention this because after making these mistakes it was thought we should pass on some valuable advice, and embarrass myself for a change. Happy now Jules?
Still, don’t get mad, get even. By the end of the day we had walk 9km’s, swum in five waterholes and belly ached for several hours about why are we doing this again? We are having a rest tomorrow and then making our way to Darwin, where we should be for a couple of weeks. You can get us on the mobile or email during this period.
Personal notes-
HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Lover, another year, another wrinkle. Hopefully somewhere where no one will notice. Love ya.
Macca hope work is still being good to you and the women in your life aren’t too frustrating. Gotta love them. So I’m told.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Brooke. Sorry she couldn’t be there for your milestone. We were all there in spirit!
To all you Blue supporters SUCK S*&T!
To all you Ford supporters Get stuffed!
Thinking of you Bevan and Margit.
R & R hope everyone has settled into Rocky okay and Sam is feeling better sooner rather than later. Randall we met a Detective in Mt Isa, said she knew you from Albany Creek and wanted to know if you had been locked up yet? How’s Woorabinda? Can’t be anything like what the Territorians have to put up with.
Missing everyone.
The Wattevas
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Normanton to Cloncurry
It’s Sunday again (I think). Funny how everyday on the road sort of becomes just another 24 hours. To the point where, my beloved, who as most will no, fairly well organised, in that she knew what was happening from day to day and hour to hour, weeks in advance, now when you ask what day is it? “I don’t know”, comes the reply. Where is your phone? “I don’t know”. That’s right the woman who had to have the phone and diary prised from her hip in years gone by has turned into the not so typical trailer bum. Not so typical because we aren’t as before stated, A Grey Nomad. We don’t have to be in bed by 7pm and on the road by 6am to make it to that all important next camp spot 100km up the road. We don’t have a battery drill to wind our caravan legs down of a night time (still do it by hand, unlike another traveller who won’t be named but is travelling with us for the next 6 months or so). We don’t have the smoke alarm (which they have owned for the past six years), going off in the wee hours of the morning as you make toast. Or have to pee in a bucket because heaven’s above you should actually use the toilet that you paid money to have installed in your van in the first place. And don’t use the gas for the fridge, just run your batteries to the bottom then whinge that they don’t last long enough. Not to mention the parking of our dwellings on wheels when they actually arrive at the free camps. This has become known as the park by touch derby, where we pull in and are unpacked having a beer about five minutes after stopping. Not to get setup, but to pull out the chairs and watch the procession of G.N’s trying to reverse their vans into a space the Queen Mary could fit into while yelling out the window “ Which do I go Marge, my left or your left?” Followed by the inevitable ding dong because, “You silly old bastard why don’t you listen to me?” Just know a G.N with a 14ft caravan has taken eight attempts to put his van in beside us. I don’t want to get old!!!!!
Anyway, we went back to Karumba on Monday to take a charter to catch some of these great Gulf pelagic (look it up) we’ve heard about. First mistake - believing the brochure. Second mistake - believing the locals. Hopped onto the boat and set out about 7am. Travelled half an hour, which is basically 2km’s out of the harbour and up the coast, where the anchor was dropped and “this is it!” we were told. Okay, maybe we have to catch bait first. Nope! So we all drop our lines a total of six feet into what was supposed to be deep water for the area. “If we catch a bream someone is going to get gutted”, was the general opinion. Luckily for the skipper he put us on a school of salmon, so all had a good time and came away with a considerable feed of fish. Of course they decided to spend ¾ hour, of our time, pulling up half a dozen crab pots and then didn’t offer anyone, any of the catch. Oh yeah I forgot, the dust I thought I had in my eye turned out to be a bit of steel that had lodged itself in my iris and been slowly pushed further in with the rubbing over the past 24 hours, after Jules assured me “There is nothing in it, you are just being paranoid”. It’s a sort of love, hate relationship we have at times. So off to the local hospital in Normanton, but its me this time not Jack. (haha)
The next day we made our way down the Burke Development Road to the Burke and Wills roadhouse then into Gregory. A town consisting of a pub, Caravan Park, council depot and a school. And of course a free camp. You use to camp beside the river, but now there are signs up everywhere not to this or face a fine. Of course as most of G.N’s think they own everywhere they pull in, several said “Get Stuffed, we will park wherever we feel like!” The next morning, a huge outcry could be heard coming from the creek as seven southerners opened there van doors to find taped to them a fine for infringement of camping signs, $200. Suck @#%$, ar@#&*%$! We dumped the vans at the caravan park for the royal sum of $5 and made our way out to Lawn Hill which Jules has been talking about for ages. More single lane highways and mining road trains, the occasional pothole and kangaroo as we pulled into Adel’s’ Grove. What a let down. $16 per person per night on an unpowered, camp site. Bite your bum! $ 8.00 for a hamburger, $30.00 for a two course meal of salad and lamb shanks, $5.50/loaf of bread and $1.80/lt for fuel. So we didn’t stay and instead made our way out the Lawn Hill National Park. Pull in, set up the tent, “Let’s go pay the ranger”. Ranger’s office shut. They don’t except money anymore, you have to pay at Adel’s Grove. “Nice if some #@$%#^&* had a put up a sign or changed the brochures we picked up at the information centre last week. So dad does the journey back to pay our $30 for six and get our permit to display on the tent. Let’s find some firewood while he is away. “Look there’s a sign. NO FIRES ALLOWED”. “See they do have some signs dad, and look no generators either”. At this point I can understand why Homer Simpson strangles his son so much. “At least his reading has improved”. A sandwich and a beer later and all are feeling on a calmer plain again. Time for a bushwalk. Head down what Used to be a path until we reach what Used to be a bridge. Some passer bys say, “Keeping heading down the path and there is a couple of logs across the creek that you can cross”. So we walk down the path and come to a washout with a jumble of logs going in various directions in a roundabout fashion over the creek. “This should be good!” I walk over the logs and wait on the other side with camera in hand, you know, just in case. After much scrambling and cursing all made it to the other side and carried on with the walk with the knowledge they would have to do it all over again on the way back. Still it was worth the walk as the swim in the gorge when we got back was great. Freshwater crocs and all. Twenty degree water and not a care in the world. After a cool night (5 degrees) we went down to the river and hired canoes for the hour paddle up to the falls and back. We hired two, three man canoes and made our way up the gorge almost like professionals. Well almost. Imagine a canoe with Dad, Mum and Tayla all paddling in different directions and constantly trying not to overturn what was really very stable vessels. Basically, not a lot of wildlife was spotted on our way up the passage, what with the occasional “Bloody hell Tayla”, “Don’t rock the boat David”, and “Bite your bum Narelle”. Still we made it up and on the way back they actually left us for dead. This may be because I spotted two crocs in amongst the reeds and wasn’t believed until photos were shown. Amazing what some people use as an incentive.
We left Lawn Hill via what I like to call a slight detour. Down to Riversleigh (a fossil site) and out onto the Camooweal road back to Gregory. Not that bad except for the river crossings and dirt track. All in good fun. Next we headed back out to Burke and Wills where we got to try out our brakes for the first time. Passing a herd a Brahmans, one little poddy calf decided he wanted to change direction and missed becoming a hood ornament by about three inches. Brakes do work, as Mum called up a few minutes later (following a couple of kilometres behind) asking if we had seen the big skid marks on the road back there. “No, we didn’t see them”, stutters a white faced Jules.
Pulled into Cloncurry yesterday and did some work for Ergon so we could stay beside their depot for free. The people here still have the largest frowns and death looks on their faces, then anywhere we have been thus far. Tomorrow we head for Mt Isa for about a week, to do repairs to our vehicles before heading into the Northern Territory at last. YEAHHHHH.
Hope all are going well and are thinking of those that are struggling at the moment. Love hearing from those that write on email or the blog. The map and photos are working through the link now. Talk to you when we are in service next
Love
The Wattevas
Anyway, we went back to Karumba on Monday to take a charter to catch some of these great Gulf pelagic (look it up) we’ve heard about. First mistake - believing the brochure. Second mistake - believing the locals. Hopped onto the boat and set out about 7am. Travelled half an hour, which is basically 2km’s out of the harbour and up the coast, where the anchor was dropped and “this is it!” we were told. Okay, maybe we have to catch bait first. Nope! So we all drop our lines a total of six feet into what was supposed to be deep water for the area. “If we catch a bream someone is going to get gutted”, was the general opinion. Luckily for the skipper he put us on a school of salmon, so all had a good time and came away with a considerable feed of fish. Of course they decided to spend ¾ hour, of our time, pulling up half a dozen crab pots and then didn’t offer anyone, any of the catch. Oh yeah I forgot, the dust I thought I had in my eye turned out to be a bit of steel that had lodged itself in my iris and been slowly pushed further in with the rubbing over the past 24 hours, after Jules assured me “There is nothing in it, you are just being paranoid”. It’s a sort of love, hate relationship we have at times. So off to the local hospital in Normanton, but its me this time not Jack. (haha)
The next day we made our way down the Burke Development Road to the Burke and Wills roadhouse then into Gregory. A town consisting of a pub, Caravan Park, council depot and a school. And of course a free camp. You use to camp beside the river, but now there are signs up everywhere not to this or face a fine. Of course as most of G.N’s think they own everywhere they pull in, several said “Get Stuffed, we will park wherever we feel like!” The next morning, a huge outcry could be heard coming from the creek as seven southerners opened there van doors to find taped to them a fine for infringement of camping signs, $200. Suck @#%$, ar@#&*%$! We dumped the vans at the caravan park for the royal sum of $5 and made our way out to Lawn Hill which Jules has been talking about for ages. More single lane highways and mining road trains, the occasional pothole and kangaroo as we pulled into Adel’s’ Grove. What a let down. $16 per person per night on an unpowered, camp site. Bite your bum! $ 8.00 for a hamburger, $30.00 for a two course meal of salad and lamb shanks, $5.50/loaf of bread and $1.80/lt for fuel. So we didn’t stay and instead made our way out the Lawn Hill National Park. Pull in, set up the tent, “Let’s go pay the ranger”. Ranger’s office shut. They don’t except money anymore, you have to pay at Adel’s Grove. “Nice if some #@$%#^&* had a put up a sign or changed the brochures we picked up at the information centre last week. So dad does the journey back to pay our $30 for six and get our permit to display on the tent. Let’s find some firewood while he is away. “Look there’s a sign. NO FIRES ALLOWED”. “See they do have some signs dad, and look no generators either”. At this point I can understand why Homer Simpson strangles his son so much. “At least his reading has improved”. A sandwich and a beer later and all are feeling on a calmer plain again. Time for a bushwalk. Head down what Used to be a path until we reach what Used to be a bridge. Some passer bys say, “Keeping heading down the path and there is a couple of logs across the creek that you can cross”. So we walk down the path and come to a washout with a jumble of logs going in various directions in a roundabout fashion over the creek. “This should be good!” I walk over the logs and wait on the other side with camera in hand, you know, just in case. After much scrambling and cursing all made it to the other side and carried on with the walk with the knowledge they would have to do it all over again on the way back. Still it was worth the walk as the swim in the gorge when we got back was great. Freshwater crocs and all. Twenty degree water and not a care in the world. After a cool night (5 degrees) we went down to the river and hired canoes for the hour paddle up to the falls and back. We hired two, three man canoes and made our way up the gorge almost like professionals. Well almost. Imagine a canoe with Dad, Mum and Tayla all paddling in different directions and constantly trying not to overturn what was really very stable vessels. Basically, not a lot of wildlife was spotted on our way up the passage, what with the occasional “Bloody hell Tayla”, “Don’t rock the boat David”, and “Bite your bum Narelle”. Still we made it up and on the way back they actually left us for dead. This may be because I spotted two crocs in amongst the reeds and wasn’t believed until photos were shown. Amazing what some people use as an incentive.
We left Lawn Hill via what I like to call a slight detour. Down to Riversleigh (a fossil site) and out onto the Camooweal road back to Gregory. Not that bad except for the river crossings and dirt track. All in good fun. Next we headed back out to Burke and Wills where we got to try out our brakes for the first time. Passing a herd a Brahmans, one little poddy calf decided he wanted to change direction and missed becoming a hood ornament by about three inches. Brakes do work, as Mum called up a few minutes later (following a couple of kilometres behind) asking if we had seen the big skid marks on the road back there. “No, we didn’t see them”, stutters a white faced Jules.
Pulled into Cloncurry yesterday and did some work for Ergon so we could stay beside their depot for free. The people here still have the largest frowns and death looks on their faces, then anywhere we have been thus far. Tomorrow we head for Mt Isa for about a week, to do repairs to our vehicles before heading into the Northern Territory at last. YEAHHHHH.
Hope all are going well and are thinking of those that are struggling at the moment. Love hearing from those that write on email or the blog. The map and photos are working through the link now. Talk to you when we are in service next
Love
The Wattevas
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Forsayth to Normanton
Forsayth to Normanton
Here we are another Sunday and time to report in. When we last spoke we were at Forsayth staying in a little caravan park with plenty of other grey nomads (GN’s). We did a day run out to Cobold Gorge across what is gazetted as a main road, but as everyone finds out up here, that doesn’t mean you should take a car on it. Jules thought she was back at the gulf (bloody corrugations). After an hour over a forty km stretch of road we pulled into Cobold Gorge which is a couple of buildings built on a cattle station. They load you into what is know as ugly (an old Toyota converted into an off-road bus) and drive you down over their croc infested river and into an amazing landscape. We climbed a range, past old aboriginal camps and the occasional snake, to pear over an edge into a hundred foot drop to the bottom of the gorge, where you see the inviting water with a stinking big croc sitting in the middle of the waterway. So it’s back over the range and into a flat bottom boat with an electric motor on both ends so we can take a tour up the gorge we were just looking in. That’s right, the one with the croc in the middle of it. Jules is real impressed about the thought of this. Still we toured through the gorge which shrinks back to about the width of the boat in places, but is well worth the trip for the quietness and serenity (believe it or not Tayla & Jack never made a noise that’s right they were silent, wonders will never cease). Plus the shear cliffs and nature swimming through the waters are a must see. Back to the lodge for a steak burger and a trip back to the park.
The following day we packed up (as Harry was taking a spot and didn’t want to cause any troubles with the GN’s) and pulled into Georgetown. We had no sooner pulled up when we were called up by the Highway Hilton (Alan and Linda from Ravenshoe) time for a cupper. They moved on and we went for a fossick around town to see if we could scratch up a fortune (gold). We found plenty of cans, bullets, nails and five cents, but no fortune, Bugger. Did a day’s work for Ergon then it was off to Croydon. Dad had to work, so we spent the day out at the Dam, fishing, swimming and killing time. Seem to be doing plenty of this lately. Killing time waiting that is. We moved up the road to a freebie for the night outside an old train station with plenty of toilets, that didn’t work, which doesn’t seem to have stopped people in the past from filling them to the brim. Shortly after a car pulls up with a 6’ foot Dutch girl and weedy little pom. Jack decided to saddle himself up with her and teach her how to use her newly acquired whip (smooth operator my son).
Next day we pulled into Normanton and found ourselves parking in the caravan park opposite the infamous Purple Pub. Changed a bit from the last time I was here. It now has full height walls and the local (indigenous people) don’t pee where they are standing anymore. A little decorum has come to town. We’ve come here at a busy time, there is a Rodeo on, plus a Jimkana and the Normanton Show, which means the town, has swelled with outsiders. First night found the local tribe finish up about four a.m. in the park which just happens to be directly behind where we are staying. Thank god for air con to drum out the noise a little. The show took about half an hour to go around, so we moved onto the rodeo which chewed up a bit of time while we waited for dad to work for Ergon again. See a pattern yet.
Anyway the next day we toured out to Karumba for a look around and to check out the accommodation. Banana prawns for $10/kg meant the guys had plenty for lunch and I had some bait. Seems unless you are Victorian you aren’t welcome in any of the parks so basically the people skills came into use and we made our way back to Normanton. We took Jack back to the rodeo to see the broncs, bulls and the drunken skanks that seem to inhabit every town you visit. Jules had a chat to a teacher from Brisbane who has been teaching here for 18 months (is she nuts?) And mum was found sitting in the grandstand chatting up a young cowboy that called himself chook.
Tomorrow, depending on the weather we are going on a charter 12 miles out into the ocean to get amongst some Gulf monster fish. Here’s hoping the wind dies down.
Sorry there wasn’t a lot of laughs in this weeks story but it just wasn’t one of those weeks. More accidents then funny anecdotes. I’m scratching the crap out myself at the moment thanks to the infestation of ?&%^$$# meat ants that seem to have taken a liking to my feet alone, plus I got some bulldust in one eye yesterday and it feels like there is sandpaper rubbing over the front of it. Dad decided he would try amputating a finger while sharpening knives again, and then today while showing Jack how not to handle a catfish he of course ended up doing what he was showing Jack not to do “those spines really are sharp aren’t they poppy. Does it really hurt poppy?” A couple of hours later the throbbing has stopped but now he has no feeling in one hand. It seems Jack can escape the occasional week without injury, amazing.
Still that’s camping.
Cya
The Wattevas
Here we are another Sunday and time to report in. When we last spoke we were at Forsayth staying in a little caravan park with plenty of other grey nomads (GN’s). We did a day run out to Cobold Gorge across what is gazetted as a main road, but as everyone finds out up here, that doesn’t mean you should take a car on it. Jules thought she was back at the gulf (bloody corrugations). After an hour over a forty km stretch of road we pulled into Cobold Gorge which is a couple of buildings built on a cattle station. They load you into what is know as ugly (an old Toyota converted into an off-road bus) and drive you down over their croc infested river and into an amazing landscape. We climbed a range, past old aboriginal camps and the occasional snake, to pear over an edge into a hundred foot drop to the bottom of the gorge, where you see the inviting water with a stinking big croc sitting in the middle of the waterway. So it’s back over the range and into a flat bottom boat with an electric motor on both ends so we can take a tour up the gorge we were just looking in. That’s right, the one with the croc in the middle of it. Jules is real impressed about the thought of this. Still we toured through the gorge which shrinks back to about the width of the boat in places, but is well worth the trip for the quietness and serenity (believe it or not Tayla & Jack never made a noise that’s right they were silent, wonders will never cease). Plus the shear cliffs and nature swimming through the waters are a must see. Back to the lodge for a steak burger and a trip back to the park.
The following day we packed up (as Harry was taking a spot and didn’t want to cause any troubles with the GN’s) and pulled into Georgetown. We had no sooner pulled up when we were called up by the Highway Hilton (Alan and Linda from Ravenshoe) time for a cupper. They moved on and we went for a fossick around town to see if we could scratch up a fortune (gold). We found plenty of cans, bullets, nails and five cents, but no fortune, Bugger. Did a day’s work for Ergon then it was off to Croydon. Dad had to work, so we spent the day out at the Dam, fishing, swimming and killing time. Seem to be doing plenty of this lately. Killing time waiting that is. We moved up the road to a freebie for the night outside an old train station with plenty of toilets, that didn’t work, which doesn’t seem to have stopped people in the past from filling them to the brim. Shortly after a car pulls up with a 6’ foot Dutch girl and weedy little pom. Jack decided to saddle himself up with her and teach her how to use her newly acquired whip (smooth operator my son).
Next day we pulled into Normanton and found ourselves parking in the caravan park opposite the infamous Purple Pub. Changed a bit from the last time I was here. It now has full height walls and the local (indigenous people) don’t pee where they are standing anymore. A little decorum has come to town. We’ve come here at a busy time, there is a Rodeo on, plus a Jimkana and the Normanton Show, which means the town, has swelled with outsiders. First night found the local tribe finish up about four a.m. in the park which just happens to be directly behind where we are staying. Thank god for air con to drum out the noise a little. The show took about half an hour to go around, so we moved onto the rodeo which chewed up a bit of time while we waited for dad to work for Ergon again. See a pattern yet.
Anyway the next day we toured out to Karumba for a look around and to check out the accommodation. Banana prawns for $10/kg meant the guys had plenty for lunch and I had some bait. Seems unless you are Victorian you aren’t welcome in any of the parks so basically the people skills came into use and we made our way back to Normanton. We took Jack back to the rodeo to see the broncs, bulls and the drunken skanks that seem to inhabit every town you visit. Jules had a chat to a teacher from Brisbane who has been teaching here for 18 months (is she nuts?) And mum was found sitting in the grandstand chatting up a young cowboy that called himself chook.
Tomorrow, depending on the weather we are going on a charter 12 miles out into the ocean to get amongst some Gulf monster fish. Here’s hoping the wind dies down.
Sorry there wasn’t a lot of laughs in this weeks story but it just wasn’t one of those weeks. More accidents then funny anecdotes. I’m scratching the crap out myself at the moment thanks to the infestation of ?&%^$$# meat ants that seem to have taken a liking to my feet alone, plus I got some bulldust in one eye yesterday and it feels like there is sandpaper rubbing over the front of it. Dad decided he would try amputating a finger while sharpening knives again, and then today while showing Jack how not to handle a catfish he of course ended up doing what he was showing Jack not to do “those spines really are sharp aren’t they poppy. Does it really hurt poppy?” A couple of hours later the throbbing has stopped but now he has no feeling in one hand. It seems Jack can escape the occasional week without injury, amazing.
Still that’s camping.
Cya
The Wattevas
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Charters Towers to Forsayth
Charters Towers – Forsayth
G’day all. Fletcher’s Creek is still just as good as it was last year. A few less caravans, more water in the creek, more grass in the area and more Redclaw in the pots. It seems Ranger “Dave” has been at it before we even got there. You see the creek is cordoned off from the water by a row of timber bollards. That should keep caravans away from the creek, right. WRONG. If something is in the way, pull out a chainsaw and cut it off at the ground then burn the evidence. Bloody Victorians. Of course now Dad is an official member of The Grey Nomads it seems he has to take this sort of abuse on board and solve it. This of course leads to much name calling and threatening of where things can be shoved. This is going to be interesting touring with them for the seven or so months.
Still Fletcher’s was great (still free, got to be good). The Toyota got fixed (don’t need to trade her in, the car that is). Drove down to the Burdekin for another look after the floods. Where we drove on the edge of the river is about 10m above the water line. Up in the tree line was flood rubbish about another 8m high. The river in this area is about 200m wide. So that’s 200m by 18m of rushing water flowing down a river that right now is 2m wide and 1m deep. There is a water depth marker at the Macrossan River showing the flood depth at 27m above the normal water line. (OMG they had some rain)
The time had now come to make the run up The Lynd (300 km of single lane road with road trains going both ways), “she’ll be right Jules.” After all the horror stories of what this particular stretch of Qld highway was supposed to be like it wasn’t that bad after all. Granted it took about four hours to travel 150 km, as you have to get off the road every 5km or so to let through a road train that had total right of way, but they were more than friendly as long as you had a two way and were happy to pull off for them. Still we passed a couple of old farts with no towing mirrors or UHF radio. Bloody idiots. After an overnight stay half way up the road (Jules couldn’t handle going any further in one day, something about needing a drink for the nerves), we made our way past Greenvale and up to Ravenshoe. First let’s dump the porta loo and refill the water, too easy. No worries pulling in, but a horrible screech on the way out (S—t). It seems that awning on the side of the van is destined to be destroyed. “Didn’t you see that post?” “Well yeah, but I wanted to see if I could drive over it rather then around for a change.” “Idiot!” “Fair enough.”
We pull into a place called the Railco, $6 a night with power and water and two minutes walk from town. I reverse the van up over a train track and into the little space that the old caretaker wants us to park in. With plenty of faces waiting for us to hit something while manoeuvring through the dog leg, I was quite happy to push it into place in one go and hop out and have a beer. Stick it up your bum that is how it is done (silly old farts). “Really becoming a people person hey Jules”. Met Alan and Linda next door to us in an old furniture removal trailer and prime mover called The Highway Hilton. He was an ex truckie who fitted out this rig by himself and did a bloody good job. Jules was envious, they had 2500 lt of water (we have 210), they get 2500 kms out of their tank (we get 560), they have three air cons, a rear patio and storage space for Africa (we have a 27ft van between four of us). “Theirs was twice the price too Jules”. While dad was off working for Ergon, we toured the area and its waterfalls (bloody how many walks do we have to go on says Mum), the museums and the wind farm up on Windy Hill (20 big windmills the create enough power for 3500 houses).
The weekend came and we went to the Ravenshoe market which only happens once a month (glad we weren’t here just for that, took 15 minutes to walk in and out). “And it only happens once a month hey, can’t imagine why?” We took the old stem train ride up to Toumolin and back, which was pretty good (just like being on Hogwarts train, Harry Potter for those that don’t know). With a mixture of being the highest town in Qld and light misty rain for a few days, it turned out to be a little chilly, so the girls were happy when we pulled stumps and headed down the range. We ran into the Atkinsons who we had met at Emerald Distance Ed, on their way back from doing a couple of weeks of touring the outback. They were giving it a trial run in a camper trailer with two kids and came to the conclusion that they probably wouldn’t tour Oz at this stage, as they wanted to stay together and keep the kids alive. Smart people.
We continued our drive through Mount Surprise (Dad thought the police station out here would be a good transfer opportunity for Randall (got those stripes yet),( Mum was just asking), and into Georgetown on our way to Forsayth. Erica (that’s my other lady in the car, she gives directions and doesn’t back chat (the bloody Tom Tom Jules said to say) led us out of town and into Forsayth, eventually. As we are finding, these GPS units are good until you get west then they get confused and keep trying to put you on the train lines (must have been put out by Microsoft). Pull into this little town (population 30) and reverse into another tight little spot pointed out by the caretaker. Mum makes another friend when the cranky pom beside me comes out of her van yelling you can’t park their that is where Harry is parking on Monday (today is Sat). “F—off idiot that is where we were told to park!” yells out the mighty blonde midget. “Hey Jules, maybe that’s where I got my people skills from you think?”
We’re going out to Cobold gorge tomorrow then back to Georgetown on Monday so dad can work at Ergon. We may never get out of Qld at this stage, but it is interesting.
Happy birthday Rocket on the 3rd, hope basic training was good and good luck to Beau on his upcoming tour.
Jenny and Rich, NO alcohol was used in the writing of this blog, but copious amounts are consumed in the gathering of notes.
Happy birthday also Uncle Rob (Bundaberg) on the 17th, remember you are only as old as the woman you feel. Sorry Ma
R & R hope all is going well, thinking of you guys.
Amy, how is Josh Jr coming along (don’t over cook him), Tayla said Josh’s ties have been acceptable lately.
Good to here from you lover, and glad to see you decided to keep at this stupid bloody internet thing. You think Em is a pain, trying living with her in a small caravan in the middle of nowhere, and that time of the month breathing down your neck.
What’s happening Danni? Hope all is going well, and there are no bodies in the back yard yet. Go the Lions and Go Holden.
Cliff, Log into Google, creates an account, then go to www.blogspot.watteva08.com
Miss you Gran, but it sounds like you have been busy lately anyhow.
And of course to the rest of you people who like to hear about others misfortune and mundane life, we still miss you all and hope to see you sooner rather than later.
Till next time, Love You all
The Wattevas
G’day all. Fletcher’s Creek is still just as good as it was last year. A few less caravans, more water in the creek, more grass in the area and more Redclaw in the pots. It seems Ranger “Dave” has been at it before we even got there. You see the creek is cordoned off from the water by a row of timber bollards. That should keep caravans away from the creek, right. WRONG. If something is in the way, pull out a chainsaw and cut it off at the ground then burn the evidence. Bloody Victorians. Of course now Dad is an official member of The Grey Nomads it seems he has to take this sort of abuse on board and solve it. This of course leads to much name calling and threatening of where things can be shoved. This is going to be interesting touring with them for the seven or so months.
Still Fletcher’s was great (still free, got to be good). The Toyota got fixed (don’t need to trade her in, the car that is). Drove down to the Burdekin for another look after the floods. Where we drove on the edge of the river is about 10m above the water line. Up in the tree line was flood rubbish about another 8m high. The river in this area is about 200m wide. So that’s 200m by 18m of rushing water flowing down a river that right now is 2m wide and 1m deep. There is a water depth marker at the Macrossan River showing the flood depth at 27m above the normal water line. (OMG they had some rain)
The time had now come to make the run up The Lynd (300 km of single lane road with road trains going both ways), “she’ll be right Jules.” After all the horror stories of what this particular stretch of Qld highway was supposed to be like it wasn’t that bad after all. Granted it took about four hours to travel 150 km, as you have to get off the road every 5km or so to let through a road train that had total right of way, but they were more than friendly as long as you had a two way and were happy to pull off for them. Still we passed a couple of old farts with no towing mirrors or UHF radio. Bloody idiots. After an overnight stay half way up the road (Jules couldn’t handle going any further in one day, something about needing a drink for the nerves), we made our way past Greenvale and up to Ravenshoe. First let’s dump the porta loo and refill the water, too easy. No worries pulling in, but a horrible screech on the way out (S—t). It seems that awning on the side of the van is destined to be destroyed. “Didn’t you see that post?” “Well yeah, but I wanted to see if I could drive over it rather then around for a change.” “Idiot!” “Fair enough.”
We pull into a place called the Railco, $6 a night with power and water and two minutes walk from town. I reverse the van up over a train track and into the little space that the old caretaker wants us to park in. With plenty of faces waiting for us to hit something while manoeuvring through the dog leg, I was quite happy to push it into place in one go and hop out and have a beer. Stick it up your bum that is how it is done (silly old farts). “Really becoming a people person hey Jules”. Met Alan and Linda next door to us in an old furniture removal trailer and prime mover called The Highway Hilton. He was an ex truckie who fitted out this rig by himself and did a bloody good job. Jules was envious, they had 2500 lt of water (we have 210), they get 2500 kms out of their tank (we get 560), they have three air cons, a rear patio and storage space for Africa (we have a 27ft van between four of us). “Theirs was twice the price too Jules”. While dad was off working for Ergon, we toured the area and its waterfalls (bloody how many walks do we have to go on says Mum), the museums and the wind farm up on Windy Hill (20 big windmills the create enough power for 3500 houses).
The weekend came and we went to the Ravenshoe market which only happens once a month (glad we weren’t here just for that, took 15 minutes to walk in and out). “And it only happens once a month hey, can’t imagine why?” We took the old stem train ride up to Toumolin and back, which was pretty good (just like being on Hogwarts train, Harry Potter for those that don’t know). With a mixture of being the highest town in Qld and light misty rain for a few days, it turned out to be a little chilly, so the girls were happy when we pulled stumps and headed down the range. We ran into the Atkinsons who we had met at Emerald Distance Ed, on their way back from doing a couple of weeks of touring the outback. They were giving it a trial run in a camper trailer with two kids and came to the conclusion that they probably wouldn’t tour Oz at this stage, as they wanted to stay together and keep the kids alive. Smart people.
We continued our drive through Mount Surprise (Dad thought the police station out here would be a good transfer opportunity for Randall (got those stripes yet),( Mum was just asking), and into Georgetown on our way to Forsayth. Erica (that’s my other lady in the car, she gives directions and doesn’t back chat (the bloody Tom Tom Jules said to say) led us out of town and into Forsayth, eventually. As we are finding, these GPS units are good until you get west then they get confused and keep trying to put you on the train lines (must have been put out by Microsoft). Pull into this little town (population 30) and reverse into another tight little spot pointed out by the caretaker. Mum makes another friend when the cranky pom beside me comes out of her van yelling you can’t park their that is where Harry is parking on Monday (today is Sat). “F—off idiot that is where we were told to park!” yells out the mighty blonde midget. “Hey Jules, maybe that’s where I got my people skills from you think?”
We’re going out to Cobold gorge tomorrow then back to Georgetown on Monday so dad can work at Ergon. We may never get out of Qld at this stage, but it is interesting.
Happy birthday Rocket on the 3rd, hope basic training was good and good luck to Beau on his upcoming tour.
Jenny and Rich, NO alcohol was used in the writing of this blog, but copious amounts are consumed in the gathering of notes.
Happy birthday also Uncle Rob (Bundaberg) on the 17th, remember you are only as old as the woman you feel. Sorry Ma
R & R hope all is going well, thinking of you guys.
Amy, how is Josh Jr coming along (don’t over cook him), Tayla said Josh’s ties have been acceptable lately.
Good to here from you lover, and glad to see you decided to keep at this stupid bloody internet thing. You think Em is a pain, trying living with her in a small caravan in the middle of nowhere, and that time of the month breathing down your neck.
What’s happening Danni? Hope all is going well, and there are no bodies in the back yard yet. Go the Lions and Go Holden.
Cliff, Log into Google, creates an account, then go to www.blogspot.watteva08.com
Miss you Gran, but it sounds like you have been busy lately anyhow.
And of course to the rest of you people who like to hear about others misfortune and mundane life, we still miss you all and hope to see you sooner rather than later.
Till next time, Love You all
The Wattevas
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Bundaberg to Charters Towers
2009 No. 2
G’day all. Here we are back on the road and already the experiences have started again. First up we headed out of Bundaberg after many heartfelt goodbyes and tears (will miss our adopted family immensely). Made fair time out past Monto for the first night. Problems started about 100km’s out of Bundy when first we ran out of bitumen road. “We can’t go on a dirt road!” “Bought an off-road van, but can’t take it on the dirt, didn’t realise I married Adele.” Anyway won’t go backwards so onwards and upwards. Turns out it wasn’t that bad. Then we pulled into Monto, where Tayla pipes up “What’s that hissing?” “S—t, told you so, we shouldn’t have gone on that dirt road!” “Yeah, yeah, bite your bum.” So after a puncture repair and a few more choice words we finally made it to a free camp near the Cania Ranges, where we did some school work, had a camp fire and watched the stars (beautiful). Let’s have a shower Jules. No worries I filled the wash tank before I left with the bore water at Bev’s. Funny thing is darl nothing seems to be coming out of the tap. “ Which tank did you fill Jules?” Bugger, wrong one. Looks like it is a baby wipe shower.
Next day it was on past Banana and Moura (mining towns) and pulled into a free camp on the Dawson River. Brilliant, right on the water, hot showers, toilets, fish and friendly campers. We met two families from Moura with six boys between them. Jack thought he was in heaven. Needless to say after a few coldies, a top campfire and good conversation, we decided to stay another day so the kids could play.
We had to bail out the next day to get to Emerald for the kids to do their NAPLAN testing for school. Turns out after a few calls we were allowed to camp at the school (gee, I don’t know, free or pay for a caravan site. Which would I choose?). So we pulled into Emerald on Sunday arvo up the state school and ……….
“Where do we park Brad? There is no one around.” There was a building beside their school called the Outstation, “That would have to be it, hey Jules; I mean the gates are open and all. That will do, look they even have power in the carport”. “You can’t do that”, “Just watch me”. After a couple of hours of Julie having a coronary about being in the wrong place and using someone’s power, a caretaker showed up and said no worries, you are in the right place. That’s 1 to Me and 1 to Jules.
We spent the week at the school so the kids could do their testing and mingle with the cattle station kids. We all had a ball, the kids playing and us talking to the mothers and governesses from the various properties around the area (that is up to 4 hours drive away). Turns out they come into school for a week four times a year and camp in the Outstation in their swags and have a house mom cook for them three times a day. “Well we are here, we might as well pay our $20 a night and eat with everyone else (just to be social, of course, not cos’ it meant we didn’t have to cook for another week did it Jules?) Met some lovely ladies and found out the history of the area and everyone’s background. Still Friday came pretty quick and it was time to leave and for Charters Towers.
Only problem is, we didn’t make it out of town before one of the ladies from school drove past and yelled to come and stay at their place for the night as it was on the way. Cool another free night Jules, we are there. Carina and Clay Kenny lived out on a 10,000 acre beef cattle property about 11km in from the highway and 200 km from Charters Towers. OH crap, more dirt roads. “She’ll be right darl, just close your eyes and pretend it’s just rough bitumen.” We followed Carina’s instructions, but the boss was starting to worry when it felt like we had been driving for bloody ages (only doing 30 km/hr) when we came upon a huge green letterbox and a sign saying Belyando Junction. This is it. About another kilometre up the driveway we came upon a big old Queenslander sitting on top of a hill in the middle of nowhere. That would have to be it. Up we go, back into 4wd, spinning wheels on gravel, I think we can, I think we can. We pulled up in front of the house just before sunset and looked out over a huge man made dam (turns out it is about 5km in area) and 360 degree views. Unbloody believable. “Can we live here Brad?”
Next up we get a G’day mate coming from a farmer pushing a mower over some of the greenest grass you have ever seen. “My names Clay, welcome, want a beer?” Here we are we met his wife for a few hours for four days and never met this bloke, but hey pulled round the back, plug into the power, have a shower and let’s have a drink and a chat. “Did we step into heaven?” Jules is thinking (still no cooking). We had a few drinks, were fed dinner, then Clay found out I was a chippie. “You know, I’ve got a trailer I’ve been fitting out, maybe you could stay for a few days and help me finish it of.” “Jules, you need to ring the oldies and tell them we won’t be seeing them tomorrow. No you ring; it will be better coming from you.”
The next day Clay and the kids took us down to get his tractor on the back of his prime mover, then drove over to the other property (40,000 acres) to muster some horses for the cattle muster next week. Jack thought he was king dick sitting up in the big Mack truck. On the way out of the driveway Tayla (Clay’s Tayla that is, same age as Jack) yells out bloody dingo. That’s nice darl says Jules so what? “We gotta shoot the bastard.” Whatttttt says my beloved. So I’m out of the Ute looking for the dingo when up behind comes little Tayla aiming into the bush with a 30/30 rifle. S__t! That is what we had to clean out of the pants after I found the rifle was loaded with half a dozen bullets and a light trigger. Clay and the kids grabbed their horses at Llanarth and we went down into one of the paddocks where they muster a couple of dozen of bulls and cows so they could practice camp drafting. That is where you have to pick out one beast from about a dozen then control where it runs and take it through the obstacle course. They all did it from Clay to Ben, Dean, Tayla and young Todd (5 yr old) amazing. Then it was back to Belyando (young Tayla drove the Ute (more dirty pants)) for the kids to play and for me to do some work on the trailer. It was an old removal trailer on a prime mover been converted with a kitchen, toilet, shower and five beds in the front and enough room in the back for 8 horses. Carina did an awesome roast for dinner (didn’t even need a knife to cut the meat) and the next day they went to a wedding while I did some more work till lunchtime, when we had to make tracks for Charters Towers. We did our few things in town then headed out for Fletchers Creek (freebie beside the creek) to catch up with my folks. Need to have Toyota look at the car as we are only getting 300km out of 150 litres of fuel. Hopefully they can fix it or else we are going to have to look at changing vehicles somehow.
Anyhow, that’s enough rambling for one fortnight. I’ll probably keep you updated every couple of weeks unless we have a busy one.
Missing everyone deeply.
Know that are thoughts are with you Bevan and Margit in your challenges that life’s throwing at you. We love you both dearly.
Hope all works out alright for your Mum Chris.
Lover and Macca, keep trying, things could be a lot worse.
Miss our card games Danni and the company. Hope work sorts it self out for you Timbo. Go the LIONS!!!!!!
Sorry Beck. But Malthouse is past it.
Keep giving Arthur curry Rich, and keep on living.
Hope the move was easy Randall and Rae and all are doing well. Keep your head out of the firing line (when do you get your promotion? Just the oldies were asking). Love ya’s
To everyone I haven’t mentioned, we are still thinking of you all, from time to time. When I’m not fishing, or hiking or sleeping.
Just jokes
Cya the Wattevas
www.watteva08.blogspot.com
G’day all. Here we are back on the road and already the experiences have started again. First up we headed out of Bundaberg after many heartfelt goodbyes and tears (will miss our adopted family immensely). Made fair time out past Monto for the first night. Problems started about 100km’s out of Bundy when first we ran out of bitumen road. “We can’t go on a dirt road!” “Bought an off-road van, but can’t take it on the dirt, didn’t realise I married Adele.” Anyway won’t go backwards so onwards and upwards. Turns out it wasn’t that bad. Then we pulled into Monto, where Tayla pipes up “What’s that hissing?” “S—t, told you so, we shouldn’t have gone on that dirt road!” “Yeah, yeah, bite your bum.” So after a puncture repair and a few more choice words we finally made it to a free camp near the Cania Ranges, where we did some school work, had a camp fire and watched the stars (beautiful). Let’s have a shower Jules. No worries I filled the wash tank before I left with the bore water at Bev’s. Funny thing is darl nothing seems to be coming out of the tap. “ Which tank did you fill Jules?” Bugger, wrong one. Looks like it is a baby wipe shower.
Next day it was on past Banana and Moura (mining towns) and pulled into a free camp on the Dawson River. Brilliant, right on the water, hot showers, toilets, fish and friendly campers. We met two families from Moura with six boys between them. Jack thought he was in heaven. Needless to say after a few coldies, a top campfire and good conversation, we decided to stay another day so the kids could play.
We had to bail out the next day to get to Emerald for the kids to do their NAPLAN testing for school. Turns out after a few calls we were allowed to camp at the school (gee, I don’t know, free or pay for a caravan site. Which would I choose?). So we pulled into Emerald on Sunday arvo up the state school and ……….
“Where do we park Brad? There is no one around.” There was a building beside their school called the Outstation, “That would have to be it, hey Jules; I mean the gates are open and all. That will do, look they even have power in the carport”. “You can’t do that”, “Just watch me”. After a couple of hours of Julie having a coronary about being in the wrong place and using someone’s power, a caretaker showed up and said no worries, you are in the right place. That’s 1 to Me and 1 to Jules.
We spent the week at the school so the kids could do their testing and mingle with the cattle station kids. We all had a ball, the kids playing and us talking to the mothers and governesses from the various properties around the area (that is up to 4 hours drive away). Turns out they come into school for a week four times a year and camp in the Outstation in their swags and have a house mom cook for them three times a day. “Well we are here, we might as well pay our $20 a night and eat with everyone else (just to be social, of course, not cos’ it meant we didn’t have to cook for another week did it Jules?) Met some lovely ladies and found out the history of the area and everyone’s background. Still Friday came pretty quick and it was time to leave and for Charters Towers.
Only problem is, we didn’t make it out of town before one of the ladies from school drove past and yelled to come and stay at their place for the night as it was on the way. Cool another free night Jules, we are there. Carina and Clay Kenny lived out on a 10,000 acre beef cattle property about 11km in from the highway and 200 km from Charters Towers. OH crap, more dirt roads. “She’ll be right darl, just close your eyes and pretend it’s just rough bitumen.” We followed Carina’s instructions, but the boss was starting to worry when it felt like we had been driving for bloody ages (only doing 30 km/hr) when we came upon a huge green letterbox and a sign saying Belyando Junction. This is it. About another kilometre up the driveway we came upon a big old Queenslander sitting on top of a hill in the middle of nowhere. That would have to be it. Up we go, back into 4wd, spinning wheels on gravel, I think we can, I think we can. We pulled up in front of the house just before sunset and looked out over a huge man made dam (turns out it is about 5km in area) and 360 degree views. Unbloody believable. “Can we live here Brad?”
Next up we get a G’day mate coming from a farmer pushing a mower over some of the greenest grass you have ever seen. “My names Clay, welcome, want a beer?” Here we are we met his wife for a few hours for four days and never met this bloke, but hey pulled round the back, plug into the power, have a shower and let’s have a drink and a chat. “Did we step into heaven?” Jules is thinking (still no cooking). We had a few drinks, were fed dinner, then Clay found out I was a chippie. “You know, I’ve got a trailer I’ve been fitting out, maybe you could stay for a few days and help me finish it of.” “Jules, you need to ring the oldies and tell them we won’t be seeing them tomorrow. No you ring; it will be better coming from you.”
The next day Clay and the kids took us down to get his tractor on the back of his prime mover, then drove over to the other property (40,000 acres) to muster some horses for the cattle muster next week. Jack thought he was king dick sitting up in the big Mack truck. On the way out of the driveway Tayla (Clay’s Tayla that is, same age as Jack) yells out bloody dingo. That’s nice darl says Jules so what? “We gotta shoot the bastard.” Whatttttt says my beloved. So I’m out of the Ute looking for the dingo when up behind comes little Tayla aiming into the bush with a 30/30 rifle. S__t! That is what we had to clean out of the pants after I found the rifle was loaded with half a dozen bullets and a light trigger. Clay and the kids grabbed their horses at Llanarth and we went down into one of the paddocks where they muster a couple of dozen of bulls and cows so they could practice camp drafting. That is where you have to pick out one beast from about a dozen then control where it runs and take it through the obstacle course. They all did it from Clay to Ben, Dean, Tayla and young Todd (5 yr old) amazing. Then it was back to Belyando (young Tayla drove the Ute (more dirty pants)) for the kids to play and for me to do some work on the trailer. It was an old removal trailer on a prime mover been converted with a kitchen, toilet, shower and five beds in the front and enough room in the back for 8 horses. Carina did an awesome roast for dinner (didn’t even need a knife to cut the meat) and the next day they went to a wedding while I did some more work till lunchtime, when we had to make tracks for Charters Towers. We did our few things in town then headed out for Fletchers Creek (freebie beside the creek) to catch up with my folks. Need to have Toyota look at the car as we are only getting 300km out of 150 litres of fuel. Hopefully they can fix it or else we are going to have to look at changing vehicles somehow.
Anyhow, that’s enough rambling for one fortnight. I’ll probably keep you updated every couple of weeks unless we have a busy one.
Missing everyone deeply.
Know that are thoughts are with you Bevan and Margit in your challenges that life’s throwing at you. We love you both dearly.
Hope all works out alright for your Mum Chris.
Lover and Macca, keep trying, things could be a lot worse.
Miss our card games Danni and the company. Hope work sorts it self out for you Timbo. Go the LIONS!!!!!!
Sorry Beck. But Malthouse is past it.
Keep giving Arthur curry Rich, and keep on living.
Hope the move was easy Randall and Rae and all are doing well. Keep your head out of the firing line (when do you get your promotion? Just the oldies were asking). Love ya’s
To everyone I haven’t mentioned, we are still thinking of you all, from time to time. When I’m not fishing, or hiking or sleeping.
Just jokes
Cya the Wattevas
www.watteva08.blogspot.com
Friday, May 8, 2009
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
2009 - Here We Go Again
G’day everyone , we thought it was about time to bring you all up to date on the trials and tribulations of the Watt clan up till now from last we spoke.
The last instalment came from Mackay in October. Well we stayed there for about 5 months, which was about four months to many. Turns out Mackay is really one of those places you would like to visit but should not think of living in. We spent or time parked on a couple of sites at the Andergrove van park. I say a couple of sites because the managers in their infinite wisdom seem to have it in their heads that just because you are paying for a camp site a week in advance doesn’t mean you can stay in the same place. We got moved twice but others were moved every four weeks because people were coming to stay on these sites (apparently). The toilet block was a toss up from day to day as to wether you could chance sitting on the seats or not. The shower spouts had to be held with one hand so as to not hit everywhere except yourself. The pool was like swimming in a stale bucket of urine.
Still we can’t complain too much. At least when it rained our site wasn’t covered with a foot of running water. Shit what am I saying, when didn’t it rain. We were there for five months and it would have drizzled for two months and bucketed down for another two. At one point we had six weeks straight of rain. Great place to live. If you didn’t drown the bloody mosquitoes carried you away. Why did we stay? Julie often asks that. Bloody conscience got in the way again. The boss I was working for came down with cancer four weeks into the job, and felt we just had to do the right thing by him. So we stuck it out. Me going to work 6 days a week and Julie teaching the kids (in-between strangling them). At one point I realised it might be time to leave when coming home from work I found the kids sitting outside and Julie inside the van with the air con blasting away, a scotch in her hand and the van door bolted shut ( to keep the little bastards out apparently), and muttering “ I’m going to kill the little shits”. Okay, maybe we had better go out for dinner tonight hey darl.
We did meet some nice people in the park and around town. One couple with five kids in a 16ft campervan (bloody idiots) have stayed in touched (Tayla’s, Jessie comes from them) to the point of even catching up at Bundaberg. Another pair of girls from Coffs Harbour turned out to be bad news. Namely, Australia Day was very memorable, for those that can remember that is. Started the day with a BBQ in the community kitchen which was good. Then a couple of arrogant Silver headed bas---ds decided to take over the area with their bull---t music and bongos. Time for me to leave. So the girls retired to the pool. When I caught up with them again an hour later, they had an esky around the pool and a line of empties to back up the glow on the three girls faces. To the extent when the one that is normally in control fell out of the shower and then proceeded to go arse over tit trying to work out how to put on her underwear. For some reason she had a sore head the next day.
Then cyclone Hamish decided it wanted to come and visit us. After a couple of days watching what it was doing, it came to the Saturday when I got called into work to move some cupboards out of the workshop and on to site for insurance, in case Hamish decides to hit. As it turns out it did decide to come and visit on this same day. As the rain started to get heavier I decided to knock it on the head and get out of town. It took Jules a little to get to work, mainly because the roads had disappeared under two foot of water. Even roundabouts could not be seen under the rain water. Maybe it really is time to go now hey darl? After a mad dash to throw everything from five months of standing still into the van and car, we made our way out of Mackay, never to return (Shithole).
Got to Aunty Bevs at Bundy two days later (got away from that cyclone). Bull. Bloody thing followed us, didn’t it? Well just sit tight and hope all goes well. Besides we‘ve got tomatoes and mangoes to pack, that will keep everyone busy. Yey dad.
We made the exodus to Brisbane to go on a 12 night cruise on the Pacific Sun with Julie’s sister, brother in law and one of his work mates. Jules is the big 40 this year and what with Ruddsy's giving we back some tax and trips being quite cheap we thought what the hell. Top idea Jen. First day out we hit the bum end of cyclone Jasper which meant we were ploughing into 5-7m swells. At least this meant the buffet and bar was easy to get to. There was plenty of dodging dying people in elevators and chuck chunder in most of the hall ways. Thank god for a cast iron gut. Let’s have another beer hey Rich, what rough weather? Still it smoothed out after a couple of days and turned into brilliant weather from then on. Bugger, now we have to fight with the oldies to get near the food (it might run out if you’re not careful you know) and cue to get a drink. Just have t buy two at once I guess. Many a morning was passed out near the Outback bar having breakfast then downing a few cold ones from about 9.30 onwards. Pubs are open somewhere in the world after all. Then the afternoon consisted of a few more drinks, dance lessons, horse racing and the almighty BINGO!!!
A word of advice, don’t get in the way of a determined pensioner heading for his or her seat that they have sat in for the past couple of days. And do not dare make a noise once those numbers are being called. You can feel the flesh being stripped from your body by there glares this intones. Still the prize money was pretty good, and I missed out on the jackpot of $9500.00 by one number.
Everyone enjoyed the trip, especially the snorkelling on all the islands. The girls were impressed by the natives at Pentecost that did the land diving from thirty foot home made scaffolds into the dirt below wearing nothing more than a banana leaf wrapped around d there Johnson and a smile. They made many a male feel quite inadequate. The kids were good, Tayla was never seen (until 2am most mornings), and it was good to make new friends with Richard and Vicky, and to spend time with Rich and Jenny (yes and Jonah). Birthdays were celebrated on board and back on the mainland after the trip. It was great to catch up with everyone that we were able to see. We are now back at Bundaberg for a couple of weeks before heading north towards Georgetown then over to Darwin. We shall keep you posted on the travels and who is being murdered from week to week.
Love and miss you all
The Watt Eva clan.
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