1

In the Beginning

The thought to one day embark on an extended journey around Australia never entered my mind until I became a Mail Officer at Sydney’s GPO in Martin Place. I was thirty years old and dazzled at the thousands of scenic postcards which arrived daily from tourist destinations all over Australia. Eventually, the urge to visit these sites myself crept up and fired my imagination.

This eventually became a daily obsession. I pictured myself feeding dolphins at Monkey Mia, astride a camel at Alice Springs, exploring the exciting walking trails at Victoria’s Hanging Rock and also inspecting the enigmatic Wilpena Pound.

During my afternoon shift I would eagerly await those bundles of magical postcards to arrive on my sorting console. Again I would drift into my daily world of fantasy and adventure, perusing magical postcards which arrived from tourist destinations all around Australia.

Supervisory staff had little patience with mail officers wasting time perusing postcards which were always more interesting than the mundane letters to be sorted. Supervisors enjoyed reprimanding new recruits just out of training school to ensure new recruits developed into suitable mail officers.

Naturally I attracted their wrath. One Supervisor in particular seemingly enjoyed sweeping up behind to smash a small cane onto my plastic sorting console. This would naturally shock me into instant motion. Keep those hands moving, Mr Fletcher! he’d warn.

The old hands would smile knowingly, having witnessed this procedure many times as more new recruits were introduced into the system.

When the coast was clear I would once again fleetingly eye those magical vistas of Cooktown, Halls Gap and the inspiring Nullarbor Plain. I decided I would one day visit those wonderful destinations myself. As a newly appointed mail officer, my retirement was thirty years away – an eternity!

Forced to retire prematurely in 1992 with a heart condition and after a necessary by-pass, a caravan trip around Australia had seemingly became a reality. Immediately I was confused, quite stressed and couldn’t sleep. How did someone plan for such an extended trip, and which way should they head? More importantly, what on earth should one take with them?

We already had a comfortable 1978 Viscount caravan and also a reliable 1977 diesel Land-cruiser tabletop. Fitting a canvas canopy, shelving for tools, tinned and packaged foods, a decent container of spare fuel and water, plus sundry items of camping gear, including a small gas stove I was quite pleased at my handiwork.

A roll-out awning was installed for eating and relaxing beneath, drying our washing and also providing us with some ‘elbow room’ at caravan parks.

A small battery charger – for charging the dual truck batteries and the smaller one in the caravan was purchased. (The three batteries all needed charging during an extended period of beach camping in Western Australia.) A video player and 12 volt colour television both proved beneficial where television reception was poor.

Naturally we packed far too many clothes. During our entire trip my attire was T-shirts, shorts and joggers, rarely a jumper. The books we packed were un-opened. However, the extra food, water and fuel were a blessing and provided peace of mind as well.

We found a reliable tenant for our house and I had decided I would head North.

Contemplating on the long journey ahead finally began to concern me and I couldn’t sleep. I found myself worrying what could go wrong. Consequently, our departure date arrived – and went, many times!

‘When are you leaving?’ family and neighbours began inquiring almost daily. I then discovered I couldn’t abandon the security of our home! Most of our furniture was already stored and yet, I fussed around like a broody hen sitting on eggs.

I tried to dispel my fears and alien thoughts, wishing I could change my mind about my planned trip. Feeling like a condemned man facing a firing squad, some inner compulsion thankfully goaded me into action.

It was Friday, just after lunch. Somehow, I managed to make a decision! I bundled the last of our furniture into our garage while Marie watched me incredulously.

It was 2 o’clock, the latest I had ever decided to leave on any trip in my life! I tried to shed my uncertainties and indecisions, the uneasy trepidations about what lay ahead …

Long-time neighbour Margaret Taylor shouted much-needed encouragement as we departed our quiet Mt Druitt cul-de-sac and headed for the terrifying unknown!

My uncertainties of what awaited ahead had swamped my thoughts. Marie was ominously silent. Nevertheless, we both put on brave faces, returning waves as our aged and placid Chihuahua dozed unconcernedly on Marie’s lap.

We joined the Motorway, chugging towards Penrith and the distant Blue Mountains. Immediately I became further stressed! Where on earth would we stop that night?

Our substitute home on wheels was behind and I kept eyeing the mirrors to make sure it hadn’t fallen off! My heart was banging so much I wondered if Marie heard it! I groaned increased despair, wishing I had never contemplated such a big journey. I was terrified!

What lay ahead? My mind was inundated with every disaster which could befall us! Each road bump had me expecting our van to become detached and crash off the highway.

Pulling in to the kerb just to assure everything was tight and secure, a terrifying grating sound had me looking in the mirror – just in time to see our caravan jolt into the air! A loud scraping sound followed also – then an uncanny silence …

Forcing myself to walk behind the caravan I eyed the spreading pool of water. Further investigation showed the caravan steps were completely torn off by the kerb. In my haste to leave I had stupidly forgotten to fold them back.

They had gone under the caravan wheel, damaging the water tank in the process. Behind was the miserable remains of our caravan steps. I stared disbelievingly. Should I turn around and forget about continuing?

Retrieving the steps, I stored then in the truck then somehow pressed on. Stopping near Katoomba I checked everything before descending the Mt Victoria Pass. Noticing my drawn and strained appearance Marie poured tea from our Thermos and gave me two strong headache tablets.

My head felt ready to split, the afternoon sun burning into my eyes, additional torment I didn’t need! Sydney was well behind us now, veiled in its habitual smog. However it appeared more like the gateway to Heaven – and a stress-free life.

As a tenant had already been designated, our house was now unavailable.

Already I missed our former easy-going lives and somehow, I resumed the driver’s seat. We’re on our way! I announced, endeavouring to sound confident and carefree! Marie eyed me silently. I knew I hadn’t fooled her.

Venus, sensing something amiss was studying me with her soft eyes.

The first caravan park we see, we’ll stop for the night, I announced. We’ll make an early start in the morning.

This turned out the Venice Caravan Park at Hartley. In my disturbed state of mind, I missed the road in to the venue, ending up entrapped in a nearby cul-de-sac. Disbelievingly I stared at the council graders and huge piles of stored road-base and blue metal.

With terse hand signals and frantic shouting from Marie who appeared almost at the point of desperation I eventually reversed out.

Our initial day had turned into a disaster! I glanced at Marie and the look on her face warned me not to say anything.

Thankfully, our caravan park accepted pets and it also appeared quiet and spacious. The proprietor was a friendly and chatty person. Thankfully, his happy demeanour injected some light into my dark and troubled day. It will be cool tonight, he warned, so unpack your blankets.

Preparing for night we became aware of the disturbing chill in the mountain air as Marie located our blankets.

Amazingly, when our heads touched the pillows, merciful sleep followed. My long-time dream of one day travelling around Australia by caravan had finally begun in earnest …

2

Hartley and on to Wellington

I awoke early as usual. Thankfully I felt amazingly refreshed and eager to make an early start. The pressures of the day before had thankfully disappeared, replaced now by rising excitement which even the freezing morning outside couldn’t dispel.

Remaining in bed a little longer I tried to ignore the morning outside slipping from my grasp. Hadn’t I waited over twenty-five years for this trip – would an extra hour make any difference?

Eventually the sun penetrated the bordered eucalyptus trees, however the morning was still freezing. I knew Hartley grew splendid crops of fruit and relied on frosty weather for sweet and juicy crops. I was glad I wasn’t an apple.

Hurrying down to the toilet block, I then shivered uncontrollably while waiting for hot water to finally exit the shower rose. Mentally, I deleted Hartley off future visits during Winter!

Ready to depart, I looked up as a park permanent strolled across. What did you think of the cold night? he asked, a twinkle in his eye.

We dug out extra blankets.

He grinned knowingly. It was near freezing, but not as cold as it can get here.

Eric had worked as a shearer’s cook, travelled around Australia three times working as a Chef. I enjoyed his exciting anecdotes, hoping I’d encounter additional interesting people on our journey.

There’s a small flea market on the highway today, well worth a look, Eric advised. Deciding to explore Hartley first, we naturally found it a small and interesting village.

The Courthouse – an impressive Courthouse built by convict labour and many other historical buildings date back to the early 1800’s. These naturally confirm Hartley’s Heritage past.

Once on the highway again I located the small collection of Market stalls set up not far from where I had inadvertently trapped myself the afternoon before. Perusing potted plants, assorted art and crafts and interesting bric-a-brac, Marie fell in love with a crystal necklace. She dug $35 from her purse. "The necklace is worth a lot more than that," the lady assured, when Marie looked at me for support.

With countless kilometres ahead, and thousands of meals to be prepared, would a husband deprive the chief Cook of an occasional trinket? Before moving off, I purchased some interesting post-cards depicting trains, planes and cars. Perusing them later, I wished I had purchased the whole bundle as they were part of a collector’s set.

Finally moving on, the sky had now turned darkly ominous. This had intensified as we motored through the coal producing area of Lithgow. The sun was already obscured by dense and rolling cloud, however the truck’s heater was a splendid asset and helped buoy our spirits

Bathurst is a pleasant and scenic town, established by Lachlan Macquarie in 1815 on the banks of the Macquarie River. It is where Ben Chifley, one of Australia’s finest Prime Ministers was born. Each year Bathurst hosts the Mt Panorama car race which electrifies the whole country.

A friendly local garage minded our van while I drove around the Mt Panorama racing circuit, now returned to a normal road. This proved rather daunting, even at our moderate speed and our old Cruiser didn’t attract any Police on the look-out for boy-racers.

Retrieving our van we headed for Orange, our journey now through pleasant rural scenery and gentle undulating hills. Near Orange we purchased three mixed bags of apples and pears for $10. Two weeks later the fruit was still wonderfully sweet and juicy.

The sky had blackened even more and snow seemed imminent. I had never seen snow and wasn’t over-enthusiastic at witnessing it this day! I wondered if my decision to negotiate the inland route to Dubbo before turning off to the coast was a foolish one. However, I really wanted to visit the acclaimed Western Plains Zoo.

Gusts of frozen wind was whipping leaves around in Orange’s icy streets as Saturday afternoon shoppers crowded into the supermarket. ‘Were they desperate to top up their larder stocks, or just long-used to the freezing conditions?’

Purchasing our own groceries we hurried back to our warm truck.

I decided to overnight at Wellington, a small town established at the junction of the Bell and Macquarie Rivers. Wellington was the birth-place of my dear mother Sylvia Knight. When passing through this town on other trips, fond memories of her always returned.

My mother had endured a hard life on an isolated farm and I had never heard her complain about her early life. She was widowed not long after my sister and I were born. My sister Pamela was four and remembers that afternoon when our father was killed by a lightning strike on our Kangaroo Valley leased farm. He’d told our mother to remain in the milking shed while he went out in the storm to secure another cow. He was killed instantly, together with two cows.

Somehow, our mother took Pam and myself to the farmhouse, then returned to retrieve the body of our father. She cleaned and laid our father out, then waited overnight for help, with no telephone and the farm isolated by the flooding river.

That terrible event saw us lose our farm then move to Nowra to somehow continue with our lives.

The Riverside Caravan Park was just outside town, the establishment small and compact. Tiny Chihuahuas were welcome – if secured on a lead.

(As we travelled further, we found caravan parks accepting pets increasingly difficult to locate.) Where pets were not welcome, I rarely purchased food or fuel in that town. This custom was sometimes a nuisance, however it made me feel better.

On our whole trip, we sneaked our lovable pet into only one caravan park. We found concealing a pet quite stressful for both animal and owner, and never worth the effort.

The afternoon was quickly darkening and also increasingly colder. I prepared steaks and fresh vegetables. (Of course, stewed apples and pears with custard followed for dessert …)

Later, we tried to find interest in television programmes then finally gave up. We were both impatient for morning to arrive – both for different reasons. I was eager to visit new areas and towns. My wife Marie had joined the trip mainly to please me and knew each day was one closer to our eventual return!

Already she missed her family – especially her beloved grand-children!

Fortunately, as we continued, meeting so many fascinating people and visiting exciting locations, our easy day-to-day existence eventually grew more on Marie.

As we settled for our night, I was surprised at ignoring my favourite television programmes. Was I off-colour, or finding it difficult to adjust to this new way of life myself?

I found this rather disturbing …

3

Dubbo to Uralla

Another bleak and freezing morning awaited us outside. Misty condensation coated the van’s windows. Switching the small electric heater on we decided to stay in bed until the interior warmed. Finally, a wonderful sunny morning urged us out of bed.

After showering we had a leisurely breakfast. There was no need to hurry as Dubbo was only an hour away.

The Dubbo City Caravan Park turned out quite spacious and well laid-out with excellent amenities. We had stayed at a caravan park in Dubbo when our children were small. Our rented van then had been small and cramped, the park sited right in town with noisy traffic to endure.

It had been a wonderful experience for our children! They drove us almost insane climbing up and down the rustic bunk beds, exploring cupboards and generally making a nuisance of themselves.

Thankfully, modern caravan parks have improved out of sight and spoil us at every stopover.

The morning was warm and delightfully sunny as we entered the Western Plains Zoo. I was quite excited and looking forward to finally experiencing this much acclaimed venue. I had planned to hire push-bikes, however Marie reneged at the last moment. I haven’t ridden a bicycle since my school days, she explained.

Nevertheless, our old Toyota made our sightseeing day easy. We stopped many times to take photos of the various inmates securely contained in fenceless enclosures for easy viewing. Naturally we captured wonderful memories at every turn.

Excited families strolled everywhere, some were riding push-bikes and others walking or driving their own vehicles. The shouts of children reached us long before they excitedly swept around corners. Sharing so many smiles naturally made us miss our own families even more.

The magnificent Bengal Tigers were easily the high-light of our day. I was pleased we wouldn’t encounter dangerous animals along our journey. We would see all manner of bird life, the usual kangaroos and most likely a snake or two. I was quite thankful about that!

Finishing our delightful tour we sought out the extensive food Kiosk. This was set in a large paved section overlooking a spectacular lake of assorted water-birds. The aroma of hamburgers nearby soon had my stomach writhing in anticipation. Somehow, reluctantly, I purchased healthy salad sandwiches and used teabags and our well-travelled Thermos. Pigeons and many other birds jostled for hand-outs, however turned their noses up at our salad and apple offerings

My long-awaited Zoo visit had been a brilliant experience, well worth the detour.

Back at our park most sites were now occupied with more travellers still arriving. A couple in their early thirties had set up beside us. Both appeared eager to chat so I asked the question everyone seemed to mention. "Were they ‘going around’ Australia?"

He grinned. "We’ve been travelling for nine years now and working as we go. We’re off to Narromine tomorrow to pick oranges for two months!"

I found this an amazing revelation. However, as we travelled further, I found this quite common. The couple had a large and roomy tandem which would have been ideal for long periods. Comparing it with our rather small van we were rather envious!

Discussing this in detail later, (obviously with tongues-in-cheek) we both agreed our 1978 Viscount van was more than ideal for our needs. Our van was hardy and solid, comfortable and also very forgiving. It easily contended with the rough and out-of-the-way roads we traversed and finished our long trip with no problems.

During our extended journey, we naturally became quite fond of our aged, user-friendly caravan.

First-time caravan travellers usually suffer some form of early mishap. We were no different! Some incidents prove humorous, a few rather inconvenient and others embarrassing, and some can prove dangerous!

One morning, (in a hurry) I neglected to secure our van securely on the towbar! Luckily, my habit to inspect everything a second time, before moving off saved our day.

The horror of discovering the caravan coupling ‘riding’ on the tow-ball really scared me. If I had moved off and braked, our caravan could have surely come adrift causing damage. From that day on I gave special attention to attaching the caravan and this didn’t occur again.

(On our return almost two years later near Forster NSW, we passed a caravan that hadn’t been properly secured. Luckily the safety chain had prevented the van from going amuck, however the caravan had caused severe damage to the car’s rear.)

The most embarrassing – (and most inconvenient) – mishap occurred within minutes of my initial rush to leave home. Forgetting to fold in our caravan steps they were wrenched off by the kerb and holing our water tank in the process. That early incident really dented my confidence!

I mended the water tank with a small fibre-glass kit I had included in my ‘special box’ of tricks. This box contained an assortment of electrical wire, insulation tape, screws and bolts and even more! The valuable contents were utilized many times during our trip, saving money and time.

However, the inconvenience of accessing the van without the steps highlighted my negligence! I found it easy to make mistakes. Not securing our small portable television set was an early casualty. Another time the caravan’s manual hand-brake wasn’t released after an overnight stop!

Fortunately, most problems were quickly discovered by my habitual ‘second check’ routine. This soon became an essential precaution.

Ultimately, I devised a ten-point Check List. I secured this inside the van near the door. This provided an easy solution. Marie attended to everything inside the van and I organised the various outside chores.

When fruit or vegetables were cheap and plentiful, we naturally stocked up. At Shepparton Vic. a large bag of oranges purchased there lasted weeks. Warrnambool’s contribution was a huge bag of potatoes for $12 which fed us around Victoria, through South Australia and across the Nullarbor to Norseman W.A. The potatoes were then confiscated at the Border Check Gate.

Our time at Dubbo had been quite enjoyable, however we still hadn’t really settled into our free and daily lifestyle. Did we really miss the hustle-and-bustle of Sydney with family all near and also so many shopping centres within reach? Should we slow even more – discover how to finally relax …?

The majority of caravans had departed from our extensive Dubbo park and it looked half-dressed with so many vacant sites. Accessing the Mitchell Highway we travelled on a secondary road to Mendooran where we would eventually join the New England Highway then divert East to the coastal Pacific Highway then on to Brisbane.

Mendooran seemed an Aboriginal name with a good ring to it. Mendooran was also the birthplace of Ivy Smith, the president of our local Pensioner group ‘The Tuesday Club.’

Ivy was an ideal choice for that position, always a pleasant and warm-hearted woman who organized the excursions for club members. I recalled her excitement when mentioning our journey would probably take us through her former home town. Take some photos of Mendooran, she urged, "please!"

Twenty minutes before Mendooran we experienced the first puncture of our trip.

Pulling well off the narrow road, Marie made the inevitable cuppa as I worked feverishly at the front wheel, naturally trying to accomplish this procedure in half a minute – or less!

Unfortunately, Sydney’s frantic blood was still pumping insanely through my veins! Somehow, I had to learn how to slow down!

Mendooran seemed a peaceful country town comprising a hotel, a garage and some small shops. Television aerials everywhere suggested the major excitement in town was seemingly watching movies and soapies.

The garage owner was about to take his lunch break. It appeared nothing would see him miss out on that! Come back in an hour, was his best offer as I left my tyre.

Drifting off to inspect the shops I purchased bread, sliced meat and tomatoes. We then lunched in the nearby park. An energetic sprinkler was spraying water everywhere, obviously far too late to resuscitate the already dead and dying grass.

Of course it almost drowned us each time we used the public toilets.

In a letter to Ivy much later, I wrote – ‘the only movement in Mendooran that day was the damned sprinkler in the park!’ In another letter, (with tongue-in-cheek) I penned I was tormented many times by re-occurring nightmares of being broken down in Mendooran and waiting for ordered spare parts which never turned up!

After posting each letter, I was naturally quite concerned at my silly tossed-off words. Thankfully, Ivy’s reply caught up with me at Brisbane. "I loved your description of my home town and I read both letters to the club members. Everyone there had a really good laugh!"

Returning to the garage my tyre was repaired. I filled up with diesel then inquired about Ivy. "Ivy? the garage-man pondered thoughtfully, Ivy …?"

She used to live close here on a farm,