Here We Go Again - Chapter 4 - Lennox Head to Maroochydore

Three days in and because of the catching up, running around and generally getting into the swing of life on the road, it feels like we are not yet on holiday. 

Today is no different. The alarm is set for 6.00am (yes alarm and holiday in the same thought) as we need to be in Maroochydore before the Caravan Fix Factory closes for the weekend. They do a 38 hour week and without lunch on a Friday close at 1.00pm. Makes sense for the staff but not for us poor nomads. 

On the road by 7.00am, according to the GPS its a nearly 4 hour drive, the majority of which is motorway. There is the obligatory road works but all in all, even though we traverse peak hour, our trip at least is at a reasonably constant speed close to the limits. Thats 98kph for us regardless of 100 or 110 limits. 

There is very little to notice in the way of scenery, as the great swathes of destruction the motorway has created are replaced by cuttings, tunnels or suburbs. Even the vista of the Glass House Mountains, once a highlight of this drive is now blocked by a pine forest. Robyn gets a glimpse, reaches for the camera but all hope of a shot is dashed very quickly.

I am reminded by the 5 Man Electric Band song Signs – “Signs, signs everywhere there are signs” but now they are not blocking out the scenery they are simply reminding us of what scenery that was, is now blocked by development and the all consuming progress of man. In the name of progress and being able to reduce time the great swathes of “tar and cement” cut through the countryside. No longer do you tack along beside a river in this area. The road travels wherever it wants, delving into tunnels here and there, giving mere glimpses of far away hills relentlessly blue and grey, rather than moving with the land. Everyone is too focussed on the destination, nothing about the journey any more. 

I manage to slot in behind a northbound rig for much of the trip. He was taking “no prisoners”, not driving recklessly by any imagination but ensuring his trip was important. At one stage a vehicle passed us both, merged into the lane ahead of the truck and slowed. Not sure why, but the truckie did little to arrest his speed, as I suspect as was I, he was governed by the cruise control. The car soon merged back into the outside lane and we both took him on the left. A finable offence for the car in New South Wales. 

You see this all too often when cruising on the cruise control. Someone will pass you (especially if you are dragging a boat or caravan) and then simply slow down. 

The cruise control does not lie. Its the “I must be in front” mentality, where everything is self centred. People need to remember the trucks on the road are moving stuff for us, its their job. I like to assist them where I can, getting out of their way, flashing them as they clear the cruiser to

let them know they can merge back etc and will even pull over in towns if I have accumulated one behind. 

They are working – I am not as I was recently happy to discuss with a truckie who jumped on the UHF to thank me for letting him past not just do the indicator light thing. 

The stop at the Caravan Fix Factory is very fruitful. Marlin immediately drops everything, thanks us for making the effort to get there as early as we could and immediately gets his top auto electrician on to the job. His strategy is to go to the unit and work outwards. He refits the unit, dismantled in Coffs Harbour, and emerges with news. 

When refitting the unit he noticed 2 pins in the coupling had worked themselves loose. He had refastened them and now was wanting us to take a quick test drive back to the highway and back to ensure the screaming alarm did not engage. We did, the alarm didn’t and all was very happy. 

The auto electrician was more than happy to do it all again with me watching, just in case it were to happen again. He also explained in great detail the vagaries of the unit, only from the fact that they are moulded and if something did actually go wrong with it, it requires a removal and return to the factory to fix. His experience suggested the units were quite robust and the only issues he had ever encountered was this jiggling of the pins – normal wear and tear so to speak. 

The entire visit took about an hour, and when we went to sort out the bill we were sent on our way. They (both Marlin, Steve in Coffs Harbour and the auto electrician here) talked about ideals around how the business should be and “practiced what they preached”. Caravan Fix has centres in many locations and most certainly get our recommendation as a preferred repairer should we need it. I wrote them the glowing testimonial they all deserved and left it on their website. 

Settling down for the first time (supposedly the third time) there are business chores to attend to. The others will be here in due course and I suspect it will soon be cheese and dip time. 

The chores out of the way its time to head across to the Silver Leader van for chips and dips “on the weather deck”. When he booked this park the Silver Leader was assured we would all be together, but we are not. Good help is hard to find and the reception girl is aghast at the size of our vans. They are not as huge as some we have seen in our travels but she is wondering how we are going to “fit in”. 

Unlike Coffs Harbour and Lennox Head, spaces are a little limited although the park is by no means full. We have had plenty of park owners tell us we will have to book to secure spots given the gross migration of the Grey Nomads as an alternative to the non-existence of overseas travel in the Covid era. Because we were here first we allowed ourselves the luxury of

the largest site, but could quite easily have parked in the sites offered to Silver Leader and Forbsy. 

The park is not one of the huge ones we have encountered before but it is still a walk to the other sites from ours. I make two trips, one with the fold up chairs and one with our contribution to the repast. Settling down, it finally feels like we are on holiday. 

Robyn, with a little more “chores” than I to do, joins us momentarily. The afternoon sun slowly setting behind the hi-rise apartments is warm. The awning is not required for shade as the sun is already too low for it to be effective. As the sun disappears the need for clothes changes becomes evident. Today has been magnificent and we have been reduced to shorts, tee shorts and thongs for most of it but now alternately someone will sneak off and return with more clothes that they left. 

Now the “manic” driving to get underway is done, its time to “plan” the next few days. As the Silver Leader plan would have it (and he got his days mucked up) we need to be in Hervey Bay on Tuesday for one of those bookings which simpoly had to be made. This means we they will have tomorrow here at Maroochydore, we will head to Woodford for an exploratory venture onto our friends Wallie and Suzie’s farm, Silvery Leader, Rose and Forbsy will join us Sunday for two days and we will all head to Hervey Bay on Tuesday. 

Silver Leader and I are mad keen fishermen, Forbsy not so much but is more than happy to tag along. We still sledge him mercilessly about the trevally inhaling cod he encountered on our last trip which has the effect of him curling up in the fetal position at the thought of that encounter. He was merrily fighting a reasonable trevally in about 7 metres of water when what was silver and fighting on his line became a grey/brown flash, an almost drag over the side, a scream of the reel, then nothing. 

The conversation quickly changes to the Bundaberg Rum distillery tour he is going to “drag” us on when we get there. Silver Leader talks of long jetties where you catch nice whiting at the beach end and all manner of pelagics at the open end. He recounts with vigour a time when (as a professional tournament fisherman) he thought he would show the locals a thing or two. 

Having caught the obligatory live bait at one end of the pier he had proceeded to launch said bait out at the other under a balloon to keep it close to the top of the water and to see rather than feel the strike. The direction of the conversation changed to the vagaries of this form of fishing when birds like garnets are around and how a fisherman was injured badly trying to do the right thing and remove a hook from the beak of one, which mistakenly taken the live bait. The laceration down his arms from the “hook” of the garnets beak put the poor fisherman in hospital. 

Back to the story at hand, the live bait was duly taken and the fight was on. For an inordinate amount of time, embellished by its teller, the story of the fight goes on. Then the punch line, as he gets the quarry to the top of the water he notices he has caught a turtle. So much for

showing the locals how to fish. The release of the turtle was the prompter for the garnet story of course. 

Rose and Robyn are prattling on about their quest for the ultimate mango smoothie, which will be their version of our fishing exploits to some degree. Sometimes they will have Forbsy with them, others they will be on their own as Forbsy’s passion for fishing is far less than ours. I suspect one of these foray’s, especially in Broome, will have them end up in places like Matso’s Brewery sipping alcoholic bitter lemon drinks or something similar. 

After Hervey Bay we have 12 days to wander before we need to be in the next park we “had to book”. The adventure that will be Wallie and Suzy’s farm will be a prelude to free camping – whether or not we actually feel we can. Rose for one is not ridiculously keen on the idea but give her, her due she is willing to have the go. 

Free camping in the past has only ever been a day here or there, never an “extended time”. The farm stay will put pressure on water usage and power consumption for the first time for any of us Nomads. We will need to park where the solar panels can do their thing at optimum and watch the water usage like a hawk. At least at the farm, although they are on the same restrictions, albeit at a much larger level, we can be self-sufficient with back up. 

But mastered, free camping takes us away from having to find a park that will have us, not to mention the cost. The downside are the amenities or the lack thereof. We all have self contained vans but like us I dont think we have all contemplated what living “rough” as far as vanning is concerned means. My thoughts turn to Johnno and Kim, recently retired friends of our who are on tour and they love free camping. We went “past” them on the Murray recently and other than dropping in for provisions and water top up, remained in the wilderness the entire time they tripped the majestic Murray. 

If you want to experience the real bush rather than the people polluted tourist spots, then this is a skill we are needing to develop. 

Friday night and the footy is on and its a close one. I retire to the van to watch the last 10 minutes of what turned out to be a golden point win for the Cowboys over the Warriors. Well and truly asleep before the final game got into full swing.