Map of Tassie Tour - Last Rites

Tomorrow is the last day of the Tour. Its not finishing the way we had planned or ever imagined.

Life on the road packed into a box
trailer and car.

For five days now, I've been on the road, after a week at home to lick my wounds. This trip has been for the single purpose of recovering all of our gear from our now dead Avan.

It has taken me 6 days to get from Tamworth to Melbourne and back again - about 2600kms. Others would do it faster but after recent events, pacing myself there and back seemed to be the way to go.

It has been an emotionally very emptying trip. Had it not been for a night with close friends on their farm at Jindivik, east of Melbourne, there would have been nothing but the draining feeling of picking up the pieces of something broken and knowing there was nothing you could do to mend it.

Clearly, the worst day was my visit to the Avan factory at Pakenham, where our broken maison sur roues has been sitting with it's broken leg and cracked back. The folks at Avan were brilliant - from the company exec Mark, who led me to the spot in the back lot where the van sat; to the guy working on new vans who came over for a chat and to sympathise; to the friendly security guy on the gate who waved me through and wished me luck.

It took me two hours to unpack our mobile life into plastic boxes and bags and stack them onto a rented trailer and into the back of the Forester. It was hard work physically in the humidity and harder emotionally but it was a simple act at the very end of the stripping that bought me undone. In my final act, after all the lifting and packing and toting, I returned to the inside of the van and took down the laminated map of Australia we had been given by son Sam and daughter in law Jacquie. It had been attached to the ceiling, above the bed. On the roads of Australia, we had overlaid in texta the tours we had made in the van - north as far as Cairns, west as far as Adelaide and Kangaroo Island and all over the eastern states.

The simple act of stripping the map from its velcro mounts, rolling it and placing it safely in the back of the car was symptomatic of the three weeks of turmoil and resignation since the accident. After three days driving and two hours of work, suddenly, there was nothing left to do but say goodbye.

It was just too hard.

Farewell, goodbye, amen.

The insurance company - GIO - have been wonderful and this week, our claim will be settled and a payout placed into our bank. It won't be enough to replace our van. We'll have to work on that for a bit. Avan have been very supportive and understanding, accepting the hulk and storing it for us until I could return for the last rites. Friends and especially family have been brilliant, understanding how this abrupt change has left us not just robbed us of the holiday we had looked forward to but interrupted a lifestyle choice we had anticipated for at least ten years.

All of these acts of kindness and sympathy have helped enormously.

The only thing left to do now is to accept what we know we can't change and move on. I wish it was as easy to do as it is to say.

When Enough, Is Enough, Is Enough

We started our trip home today ... from Melbourne.

It was raining as we left, stopped for fifteen minutes along the way and then a few minutes before we reached Narrandra. That made more than 400kms of wet weather driving. Unpleasant but symptomatic of the last week.

This tour was called the Map of Tassie Tour and should have involved seven weeks touring the only place in Australia we haven't been. We had tried to get there eleven months ago but a drug-crazed maniac in a stolen car smashed the four passenger side panels on our car three days before we were due to leave. This time, we made it as far as Melbourne - to within one kilometre of the boat in fact - when we somehow managed to have an accident with a Lambourgini.

The last nine days we had been on a holding pattern, waiting for an assessment of the damage by our insurer. In the interim, we can't speak highly enough of GIO for their support, speed and directness in helping us and for the wonderful generosity of Ashley Gardens Caravan Park for providing us with high quality accommodation, changing their bookings as our circumstances changed and for the incredible tariff reduction. Faith gets restored in humans just when you need it.

The assessor rang yesterday and told us to go home, as it might take a while. He rang today, as we drove into Narrandera, our overnight stop on the three day drive home. This time he delivered the killer blow. We knew the stub axle was snapped clean off. We knew that the van skin needed repair. We knew that stuff.

The rain, which had attacked us all the way from Melbourne, had just started to ease, when he rang to tell us the Avan had four cracks in the frame and he would be writing it off. "How soon can you come back to Melbourne and get the rest of your gear out of it?"

Broken and now written off

We have been informed that the van is four weeks outside the full replacement period, so instead, we can expect only a payout. The assessor has assured us he'll put up an argument for management to extend us a leniency but, as well as GIO have always treated us, including this fiasco, I'm not confident. This will mean a payout that will leave us five to six thousand dollars short of getting a new van.

In the mean time, while all that is decided, I have to get home and then return nearly 1200kms back to Melbourne to remove what remains in the van, including a custom built mattress which was made to cater for my wife's back injuries.

Its a confident statement to say this represents any van owner's worst nightmare. It was bad enough to again lose the holiday we had planned and missed out on last year, let alone in such dreadfully unfair circumstances. To lose the van is a debacle.

Yes, its a first world problem. Yes, we walked away. Yes our car wasn't damaged. Yes the fires in Tasmania would have made our trip unbearable. Yes, yes, yes. None of that helps.

We have lost something as important to us as our own home. I have spent an uncountable number of hours customising the van - who doesn't right? All those sundowners spent discussing options and improvements. All those hours designing, creating and making changes to get it just the way we wanted it. All the months we had spent on the road, sharing as much intimacy with it as we did with each other. Its all gone and because of the payment falling short of what we will need to replace it, it may also mean that we are left without the means to add funds to buy a new van.

Buy second hand? Sure. Good suggestion but we wanted the van to last for 15 years and I don't fancy adding someone else's kilometres to my own. It feels like we would be buying more problems.

Do I blame myself? Maybe. I don't know. It was all such a blur. We drove to Melbourne over three days. The last leg was less than 150kms. I was fresh. I was driving carefully, well under the 40km speed limit for the section of road I was driving.

It is all just plain, dumb, bad luck.

Our bad luck ... and the very real possibility that this will be our last road adventure for a while. Quite a while.


In time, we'll probably accept this turn of events. We're not angry. Completely the opposite. We both feel terribly sad. We've lost our freedom. We've been sidelined at the peak of our form and just as we were playing our best game. The lifestyle we had worked for - that my wife had taken early retirement so we could pursue - has been cut off, as though we had fallen mute in mid sentence.

Some dreams have been dashed.

Somehow, it doesn't seem fair ... but with two day's driving until home, I haven't got time for such deliberations.

Yamba to Bingara

Stamper battery at the old gold mne

Done and dusted and first to leave the Caravan park at Yamba by 7:30am.

We drove to Grafton and problems emerged with the fuel gauge that remained unresolved throughout the day. Ignored it. Climbed the big hill to the top of Gibraltar Range without any problem. Stuck to 2000 revs and the Forester pulled the Avan up the hill with no problems at all. Had a cuppa at Gibraltar Range NP.

On to Glen Innes and then Inverell for lunch, where we discovered that we had inadvertently spewed awning poles across the road when the pin dropped out of hinge which formed a small trap door on the back bumper and retained the poles. One of the poles is such a specific height that it is unlikely I can replace it anywhere except Avan service centre at Morisset. With the 12 volt water pump packing it in on top of the mains pressure water problem, our fate is now sealed for a trip to Morisset on the way to Broken Hill. Damn!

Stopped in at the Myall Creek Massacre Memorial between Delungra and Bingara. It was Sue's first visit. Very moving.

Arrived at 3:00pm at the Council run caravan park in Bingara and located ourselves along the fence line at the back of the park. Managed to readily identify several other things about the Avan that need fixing so the detour to Morissett will be worthwhile. Went for a short but uninformed car tour of the town and were surprised by what we found. Sightseeing in the morning and then off to Warialda early tomorrow evening as I deliver a Black Dog Institute program.

TODAY'S PHOTOS

Only after that do we reluctantly go back to Morisset! Busily re-planning our trip. Joys of being on the road.

The Gwydir River was lovely in the golden glow of the dying day.

Missing The Road

Beach at Bonny Hills

Last October, we purchased an Avan ... a Cruiser to be precise. It seemed the suitable tow vehicle for us to make the transition to a more comfortable existence on the road.

We started out as car campers in our long-haired student, no responsibility days and then onto box trailer camping when the kids were out of nappies and we needed to pass on our love of the bush. When they left, we stayed with the box trailer, towing it around WA and sleeping in the car sometimes ... even though it was a foot short of a good stretch out. I'll always remember slipping off to sleep while watching the stars through an open sunroof on the Nullabor Plain.

The wife's back forced a concession so we moved into a camper trailer and it saw some happy tours, including north Queensland but eventually, the need for a proper mattress (Sue) and being sick of the work needed to set up and break down (Peter), moved us into the Avan, with a new Forester as our tow vehicle.

Sounds good but the stumbling block has been getting it out of the yard. Illness and other circumstance has stymied us over and over.

The school holidays not long finished in NSW prove the perfect example. Sue had organised long service leave so we could be away for four weeks, touring through Canberra, Victoria and into South Australia before coming back the outback route through Broken Hill. We never left. Frustrated by illness from myself and family members, we amended our plans at one stage and headed for a shortened eleven days up the NSW north coast. We got as far as the first night at Apsley Gorge and had to turn back.

Finally, late last week and with her leave almost exhausted, we left the Avan at home and took a cabin at Bonny Hills, just north of Laurieton on the NSW lower north coast. Sue hasn't towed the van yet and coming up through the hills on the Oxley Highway in the event of me being indisposed,  didn't seem the right place to start.

Lunch at Wauchope

On the first day, we stopped at Wauchope for what turned out to be a delicious lunch at Modishe Cafe. A creation of vegetables, just right for a couple who have gone gluten free, hit the spot and the service was provided by the happiest person I have ever met. I left wanting to hug everyone just by way of paying it forward.

We got to Bonny Hills pretty quickly after that and our small amount of unpacking was dismissed and out of the way. We had sand between our toes soon after. The beach at Bonny Hills is a long one, with a gentle run into the sea. As a result, long walks are all the go and we did several over the three days. Plenty of colourful rocks to pick up and admire and the best trained dog owners in Australia. Didn't see one dog poo but lots of happy people carrying plastic bags in one hand and rover's lead in the other.

On Saturday we went to Ricardo's Tomatoes, just outside of Port Macquarie off the Pacific Highway as you head north. Once you cross the Hastings River, you are almost there. Sheds of strawberries, mostly growing in companion with lettuces and all poking out of poly pipe arranged in deep V's. You simply take a bucket and pick your own, paying by weight when you check in. A big shed of tomatoes is beside the cafe and shop. The tomato plants grow straight out of the bag of potting mix and are held up to the light by strings suspended from the roof.

With lunch approaching, we drove into the heart of Port Macquarie but didn't stay long. The place

Lighthouse Point

was full of beautiful people in town for the ironman race the next day. We headed out to the ocean drive along the beaches to the south and stopped at Lighthouse Beach for lunch at the surf life saving club. After lunch we walked up onto the northern headland and took in the views around the lighthouse ... which included divers around the rocky foot of the headland and a replica of a Chinese junk which was sailing by. Lovely views to the south were savored and recorded.

Going south, we stopped at Lake Cathie, down by the creek and the spot where our youngest, Sam almost drowned before being saved by his older brother Chris, who was maybe seven at the time. It was a feat he would repeat with his sister Sarah, when he held her face above water in a small pool at the back of the pub in Tambar Springs until an adult could help.

The afternoon was more beach walking and taking in the last hour of sunlight as it played on the breaking waves and the surfers riding them.

On the Sunday, it was more beach strolls and a walk to the south past a very tidy looking caravan park up on the southern headland. Here a promenade has been created with lookouts and seating which directs the walker to the view to the north. A perfect place to watch wales I would imagine.

We left about midday, briefly becoming part of the ironman event as we were escorted along a kilometre of road the cyclists were forced to share with us. We stopped at Wauchope for sandwiches made on the fridge in the back of the car and a coffee at a nearby cafe and again at Gingers Creek for a very cold cuppa. The tea was hot but the atmosphere was a bracing 6 degrees. Further on at Walcha, it was raining and even worse at 5 degC. We felt like we had driven out of late summer into the dead of winter.

It wasn't anywhere near being long enough and without the van, it wasn't our future, but we weren't completely defeated. At least Sue returns to work with something other than memories of home.

Christmas 2013

On the basis that life is a journey, this relatively small twelve months of it has been a busy one.

As with other years, family have made up a large part of what occupied our time: whether through thought, words or action. We have raised three interesting children and now, as adults, they continue to surprise and delight us. This year has seen them all settle into relationships and not that it matters, but we are happy with their choices. Its their lives they are creating now but it's easier for us if we like who they are with.

In order of official relationship status, Sarah married David in July, Sam and Jacqui were engaged in October and Chris and Carly (and the delightfully inquisitive and witty Cameron) have been an item for more than twelve months. The partners all have their strengths, their commonalities and their differences. As time progresses, perhaps the differences will become less important as our sense of family grows. With all the creativity, intelligence and verve that David, Jacqui and Carly bring to the table, we will have our work cut out for us when the grandparenting officially starts.

Sue and I had our travelling curtailed in April when Sue's back and my growing distaste for the work of camping led us to sell our camper trailer and leave canvas for good. It was an easy decision in the end. Our last trip - the Great Ocean Road - ended up in cabins and a long, slow drive home nursing Sue's back. We contented ourselves with weekend day trips mostly, seeing some of the rougher and more remote places within a few hundred kilometres of home. Of course, there was always Yamba in July.

We have fixed our travel problem by purchasing an Avan Cruiser late in the year and look forward to being on the road for at least part of January.

Unfortunately, we lost a friend when Jenny Gibbens died in the early part of the year but it must be said that her funeral was truly a celebration of her life. Each of the speakers coloured parts of the picture that was Jenny in glorious colours.

Sue's year has been one of constantly maintaining the fitness of her back, changes at work which have made her much more comfortable with what she does and the adjustment to not being able to pot (that's ceramic not plant). She has completed several art courses and her portraiture work is outstanding. She is as reliable as ever and the friend everyone wants and needs.

My poetry has gone very well this year, having been made a Cafe Poet by Poetry Australia in February. The poetry group I established at Cafe 2340 - the Postcode Poets - have gone from strength to strength and other associated projects with the library and art gallery have been successful. I've done gigs all over the place. I also became a community presenter for the Black Dog Institute and an interview about my life I recorded with Richard Fidler will air on Conversations (ABC radio) in January. A third book of poetry is on the way, probably mid 2014.

Enjoy the photos at the Photo tab . Merry Christmas and more travels in 2014.