LIFE GOES ON DAY AFTER DAY, HEARTS TORN IN EVERY WAY
The big ferry from Devonport crossed the Mersey (Bluff) before it entered Bass Strait for our overnight return. Supremely uncomfortable cabin beds combined with dining options that could best be described as food-for-fuel made for a crossing to be forgotten and never repeated, despite calm seas. The only upside was that we were maybe the third vehicle off in Geelong. It was 6.30am and faced with a couple of hours of peak hour traffic across Melbourne, we decided to chance another ferry and took SeaRoad from Queenscliffe across Port Philip Bay to Sorrento – pretty pricey but really worth it.
But before we got to the ferry, we’d spent four nights in Bridport. We came here for a couple of days, with the hope that the weather would be fine and we’d get in a round of golf at Barnbougle. The end result was perfect! On a clear, cloudless but breezy day, we played the Bougle Run. No-one in front of us, no-one behind us – bliss! An amazing little course of only 14 holes, two par 4s and twelve par 3s, some very short indeed. Great fun, very interesting and might just be the future of golf. Except that the girl wonder had a birdie…and I didn’t. Tassie had been like that – absolutely full of terrific sights, events and moments of triumph with any disappointments no worse than a missed putt.
At Bridport, our camp was in their extraordinary beach CP – it stretched along 2 km of foreshore, only a handful of sites deep. There were 250 spaces with a small number of permanents, obviously much coveted – we met a couple who had just been granted a permanent site which they were setting up; they’d waited 13 years for the privilege and seemed entirely delighted. Our site was at the northern end in complete (and glorious) isolation – in holiday time it’s rammed, but fortunately, not for us. A council run park, all WikiCamps criticisms are about the quality of the facilities but we self-sufficient types thought it was wonderful. Our 2 nights turned to 4 as we chose to simply sit on our backsides and do as little as possible in fabulous surroundings and with equally good weather. We figured it was only the second time in our entire journey that we’d simply decided, “this looks good”, and stayed put. Something we coulda shoulda done more often – a mistake in retrospect.
And speaking of mistakes and hearts torn in every way, in further retrospect, we should never have rented the flat! Lesley’s brother John had advised us not to do it. “You might want to come back”. Of course, I ignored him and those mistakes just keep piling up! In the spirit of “what could possibly go wrong”, everything that we’d put into storage from our Cremorne Point flat had been destroyed in a massive fire at Girraween in Sydney’s west. All the stuff was insured but you just know it won’t be sufficiently insured and you just know that some of it was “uninsurable” and you also just know that it will take forever to be resolved! After all this time, we can’t even remember exactly what went to storage and what didn’t – but it looks like a lot! I keep telling Lesley that “It’s only stuff” and she keeps telling me, “But it was my stuff”. A certified disaster! Consequently, we decided to head for Sydney pretty much directly to see what we could see.
We did, however, have a dinner date in Tathra on the Friday night. That meant a couple of day’s delay, so we decided to visit Wilsons Promontory. This was another deja-vu event as I’d been here just 60 years ago with the sort of life-long friends you have when you’re 12, but who have now disappeared forever – I wonder where they are? (I don’t wonder sufficiently to start trolling Facebook.) Another spectacular day saw us climb to the top of Mt Oliver and look out over Tidal River and Squeaky Beach – now we know exactly how Wineglass Bay should look. The hike was briefly punctuated by another snake encounter, this time probably a Copperhead, a bit over a metre – they really seem to like Lesley. He/she moved on calmly, unlike us. And yes, the sand on Squeaky Beach really did squeak and it looked exactly as my 12 year old self remembered it.
Stopping overnight in the lovely little town of Marlo, we headed towards Tathra and on to Sydney. Another overnighter at Gerroa and a last dinner at the Boat Fishermans Club (!) saw us drag ATGANI up the Bulli Pass and into the big smoke after months of not much smoke at all. We’d found a place to store the van at Belrose, we’d booked at few nights at Narrabeen to sort ourselves out and sleep in the van if we really had to but were anxious to get home and see what was left.
We really felt as if we’d had a decent go at “The Great Southern Land in a great big van”. Naturally, there will have to be a recap and probably a slide night. More worryingly, the girl wonder wants to do it again, because we hadn’t seen nearly enough and we’d gone far too quickly this time round. What could possibly go wrong?
2 thoughts on “LIFE GOES ON DAY AFTER DAY, HEARTS TORN IN EVERY WAY”
Trevor and Lesley welcome home .. what an extraordinary saga and well done . Your travelogue has been a highlight of my inbox amidst the vast volumes of detritus , many thanks, hope to see you both soon Phil
T&L very sorry to read about loss of “stuff” due to fire . Looking forward to catch up and sharing details of East/West crossing planned for next year – leaving 1st June24 .Away for 4 to 5 months.Would be great for you to do Slow trip West !! With us and Taylor’s, Clubs and couple who travelled to CYP with us.
Cheers Chris & Dasher
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