Here We Go Again - Chapter 94 - Barn Hill Station Day 2

It’s time for some campsite lottery again. Much like Mataranka where like vultures we waited for campers to leave to pilfer their powered spots, we today are at the mercy of movement. This time, however, unlike Mataranka where it was a free for all, we are somewhat assisted by management.

Two sites should be becoming available adjacent to each other, numbers 92 and 93 according to the allocator and recorder of residents. That is of course relying on those residents to actually leave. Even though their books have expired, here at Barn Hill possession is 9/10th of the law, and if they wish to extend we have no come back. We do though have the ability to scour the sites for anyone else bugging out.

Site 92 is on the move like us. They are definitely going. As for the adjacent site, movement is a paradox to what appears to be occurring. There is washing hanging out and the kids are playing, with gay abandon and readying themselves for breakfast. There appears no attempt to collate the proliferation of “stuff” from around the site – they are obviously extending.

Over to the office, we allow Silver Leader and Rose because of their “need” for air conditioning to have the vacant site. Even though the power here is such that the use of air conditioners and other large amperage appliances like kettles is effectively banned because their use will trip circuit breakers across networks within the park. It won’t stop them of course, their wants will far exceed the requirement to adhere to the rules. I suspect a few tripping events will occur during their stay.

Nearby a couple of sites become available and we are able to grab one with the assistance of management.

Back to the van, we need to bug out here and bug into the other side, a distance of about 400 metres through and around the park. 

Much of the bug out is, as normal. Some things are left in place rather than packed. Our reef shoes from our adventures last night are still drying on the bonnet of the Cruiser. Given we will only be creeping along between here and the new spot, they can continue to dry in that position.

My sunglasses are placed on the dashboard and they fall onto the speedometer. I will retrieve them after I have coupled up. The glare and the polarisation of the lenses make it impossible to see the rearview camera with the sun in its present position. I need my normal glasses to be able to get close enough to engage the coupling as Robyn is still in the van getting ready for the move.

With much equipment which would have been stowed still in place, we creep to our new digs and set up. The power here may not be enough to build levels in the van batteries so I immediately set up the solar panel to ensure the Cruiser will have backup power. We are not in a particularly shady spot so the sun will be able to do its thing with the solar panels on the roof of the van. The night saw a more than 40% loss of power in them and for now, the localised power supply appears not to be coping.

High tide is in the middle of the day. Fishing here is supposedly legendary. I select a couple of the large beach rods from my stash and set up with reels and gear ready for the attack. Bait is my only issue but the kiosk has plenty and I purchase some there before heading to the beach. I have not been able to find my sunglasses and will have to fish without them as the tide will wait for no one.

On the way, I walk with a young family, the Woodleys. Their van and Cruiser have been adorned with signwriting advertising their tour around Oz. 

They are novices when it comes to fishing. In fact, this is their first foray into the fishing festivities. There is one line, some bait and a whole heap of enthusiasm, what else could you need?

At the beach, I select a spot I sussed out the night before. The reef is no longer visible and my memory is tested as to find a spot where the fish might lurk but be not too easily snagged. The Woodleys, not far away. Silver Leader is not with me yet. He spends, in my opinion, far too much time readying himself. To me its a “progress rather than perfection” thing coupled with the “early bird catches the worm”.

This time though, his lateness has had no detrimental effect. I have been unable to achieve even the slightest of bites. All the baits I have in the ocean are as pristine as they were when first propelled waterward. Looking around, the others fishing are having the same luck.

Suddenly the Woodleys are creating a commotion. The novice fishers are yelling and screaming with glee. The dad is in a fight with a fish. Wishing him along I watch with interest. Finally, he has the fish on the beach and from my distance, I can see it is big. 

The novices have no idea what to do now. My rods are in their stands (not that there has been any reason to worry about them) so I can go and offer some help. He has beached golden trevally of at least 3 kilograms. A huge fish, especially for the first-timers. They are unable to release the hook, the fish is trying to digest it, so far down did it get.

I get my long-nosed pliers from my bag and begin to operate. This will not work. Effectively I have to gut the fish to retain the hook. Ok hook out, what next do they do with it.

Silver leader has now joined my fishing spot and I beckon him over for a quick filleting session of the fish. The entire family watch on as he skillfully turns the fish into dinner plate morsels, albeit with my horrible blunt knives. He remonstrates ruefully at me at the state of the knives in my fishing bag.

As soon as the filletting is done, Mr. Woodley races the fillets to his van and the fridge for dinner. His wife re-baits the hook and propels it back into the ocean hoping for an encore event.

In all the commotion Robyn and Rose have reached the beach. With my attention on assisting the Woodley’s I do not see them. Worse Robyn does not see me and heads off down the beach looking. She gets quite a distance before realising her error, turning around, and coming back. Of course the culprit of here the extended walk is me and I cop the usual brunt of ire, all in jest of course.

It’s getting towards that time of the day when the midday repast might be consumed, and unlike the fish I am hungry. The baits I commenced with are still as pristine as they were when I first sent them oceanward. The seagulls enjoy their lunch.

Back at the van, I can’t find my sunglasses. I am worried I have left them at the previous site and after lunch, I walk back over there for investigation. No joy, the site is as pristine as it was when we first set foot on it.

The afternoon is all about a beach walk to a structure known as the Pinnacles. The walk along the beach, much of which Robyn did earlier, brings us to these rocks full of caves, creices, nooks, and crannies, all begging to be photographed. The sun setting away from the structures lights them up. The shadows behind extend as the rotation of the earth changes the angle of attack.

We cut across the headland back to the end of the park where we originally parked for one last look for the sunglasses. Of course, they are not there. It’s not that they are easily replaced being prescription glasses. They are of no use to anyone without my eyes. We walk back to our van via the offices just to check if anyone may have handed them in.

The power cells are all at levels that should see us through the night with no worries. The Cruiser auxiliary battery can handle the fridge for the night again, and with the van at 100% thanks to the input of the sun and the local power, we will have no problems.