Despite the sarcasm of yesterday's blog entry it was fairly accurate. I contemplated kidnapping Courtney (somehow I think she’d be entertaining on a road trip) and then drove from Brisbane, stopping only for breaks until I reached Glenn Innes where I stayed overnight. I had intended to stop at Armidale, but I had left Brisbane later than intended and didn’t want to drive in the dark.

Today was much the same, but with one crucial difference: I had no choice but to be back in Kingsgrove before five o’clock. There would be no 'eh, that’s enough’ about today’s driving schedule. I knew I had to be up and on the road by seven at the latest and that baring a few SRS stops, that I would be driving right through. For eight hours. *sigh*

My start was made all the harder by it being UNBELIEVABLY COLD. I was being completely honest when I said that I was perfectly comfortable the whole time I stayed in the van, but it was like the universe heard me and, knowing it was the last day, decided to hit me with all it had. There was nothing I wanted to do less than get out from under the covers and get dressed. In fact, I seriously considered driving home in my flannel pjs.

Last night when I pulled in to the caravan park I knew I was getting pretty low on petrol. I wasn’t too worried however – I mean I was on a main highway, it wasn’t exactly the middle of nowhere, I’d just fill up when I got going. You know when people say things like that in movies and the audience laughs and rolls their eyes? Well that was your cue to start "oh Becca’-ing me.

I pulled into the first petrol station and it was closed. Closed down, rather. Oh well, not to worry, I’ll just grab the next one. Closed. Huh. The next one - which, might I add, was a fair way down the road? Out of fuel. I’m sorry, you’re a petrol station, how can you be out of fuel? I mean... HOW? Alright, so I’m down to empty now and I’m starting to panic. I’ve never had my fuel guage on empty ever. I’m that annoying freak who turns up half an hour early to everything because they’re terrified they’re going to be late, and you’ve got me driving around in the middle of nowhere with no fuel and the world’s most pathetic petrol stations. Needless to say I was starting to get a little edgy.

Then, salvation. Just as the fuel light pops on (did you know there was a fuel light? I didn’t) I sign pops up: Petrol – 2km. I give Fish an encouraging pat. “You can do it! Only two kilometres!"

It. Was. Closed.

I may have cried a little. The situation is getting dire now, so I pop out of the car – surely the manager is inside and he just hasn’t opened yet. OH MY GOODNESS! Did I mention it was cold? I couldn’t feel my feet, I couldn’t feel my fingers. My face was tingling so much it actually hurt. I started pounding on the door as visions of the petrol guy arriving only to find a Becca shaped icicle on his doorstep fill my head. I thought I was going to freeze to death.

I run back to hide in Fish – what do I do? Do I sit here and wait, hoping someone turns up, using up precious driving time that I don’t have to waste today? Or do I head out, hoping I find another (open, stocked) petrol station before I run out and have to call the NRMA? Because we all know how that conversation would go.

“Hello? I’m out of petrol, can you please help me.”

“Certainly miss, where are you?”

“Oh ... somewhere between Glenn Innes and Armidale. There’s – there’s a cow. And a kind of squiggly tree.”

“Riight... and your name?”

“Rebecca.”

*looks up details*

“Oh yes, we know you, tell me, do you still have your keys on you?”

*headdesk*

Needless to say it wasn’t a conversation I was looking forward too. Knowing that the only person awake at that ungodly hour would be Lisa, I rang her for advice. Luckily for me (the field day she would have had with that one) she didn’t answer and I was left to venture forth on my own.

Inching forward I starting imagining that the car was driving funny – is that because it’s running only on fumes?? I dreaded each hill because I was sure I would get to the top and the engine would stop, leaving me to roll back down to my doom. You want me to drive near a cliff? ARE YOU INSANE?? Can’t you see that the fuel light is flashing?!

I have never seen anything more beautiful than the BP I finally came to. That beautiful green, shiny, open, fuel soaked BP. I ran inside to pay the man, ready to sing him songs of gratitude. But unfortunately for me, he wasn’t too impressed to hear about why he was my favourite Petrol Man ever*.

And that was basically the scary highlight of my trip home. That and standing at the sign on the state border and going, “Queensland, New South Wales, Queensland, New South Wales, Queensland...” Yeah. To all the people I rang and sang that too while I did the little dance, I’m sorry. Sorta.

I made it home safe and sound (though the twenty minutes I spent circling around in Canterbury were less than pleasant – did I mention I hate city driving) despite all predictions to the contrary. I saw many places I’d never been before, and revisited some I already knew I loved (Byron Bay anyone? I’m just saying). And best of all, I had a wonderful time. I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.

Thank you to everyone who read along with my blog, making comments. Thanks to everyone who rang every few days to make sure I was okay. Thanks to everyone who rang every few HOURS to make sure I was okay – really, I’m fine!

*You think I’m joking, I really did tell him this and explain why – he didn’t care. I was sad.

Kilometres travelled: 576 (2, 395)
Bridges crossed: 51 (235)
Number of times hitting head on campervan: 1 (12)
Number of road workers whom returned my wave: 2 (14)
Number of times James completely freaked out because he thought we were bush bashing: 2 (6)

Location: Brisbane, Queensland

I momentarily felt bad about kicking Courtney out of her bed (though brief it was a genuine feeling bad, I was prepared to stay in the van), but then I realised I was in a real bed and the guilt disappeared. Besides, it was Courtney's warmgloo (a warm igloo for the non twitter people) so it was pretty cool.

Most important thing I learnt about Courtney this morning – when she gets up she looks like a Sesame Street gangster, with her Elmo pjs sticking out from UNDER her tracksuit. Well... there were other things, I could tell you about how cute she is but she doesn’t like that and then threatens to hit me *ducks*. Courtney’s older sister is getting married soon and so she and the family went off on some family errands while I headed into the city. Though looking back now, knowing that Courtney had to try on HIGH HEELS to go with her DRESS, I clearly made the wrong decision. (Yes I’m openly taunting you now Courtney).

She walked me to the station (still as the Elmo gangster – score!) and I jumped on a train to go into the city. I wanted to visit the museum while I was in town – mainly because I’m a nerd and thought it would be fun, but also because I’ve never actually been to a museum and, as a nerd, isn’t that a little bit sad?

I did enjoy the museum quite a bit, with the highlight being a huge dinosaur skeleton – a Muttaburrasaurus, if you’re interested. I also enjoyed and was freaked out (in equal measure) by the large number of mounted animals on display. While the OCD part of my brain really liked how they were all aligned in order of their height, their glassy eyes were starting to get to me. I felt like I was being hypnotised by an army of zombie animals...

After the museum I explored the state library for a little while (yes, I did say a LITTLE while) and considered visiting the state gallery also, but by then it was well into the afternoon and, since I’m not overly familiar with the Sydney rail system let alone that in an entirely different state, I decided I’d better head off back to the station. I did stumble across a huge chalkboard on the side of a building on my way back however, to which of course I added.

And that’s sort of where my trouble started. You see, I asked the kind man at the gate which train I needed to be on to get back to Courtney’s place – I had a fair idea, but wanted to be sure. He directed me to the platform and told me the next train on that line would come in twenty-two minutes. Okay, no problem. Except there also came a train at twenty-minutes, and would you know it, that’s the one I got on. Luckily for me I managed to realise by the time it made it’s first stop and so fixed the problem pretty quickly. And if I hadn’t gotten on the wrong one I never would have seen the cattle train which was pretty cool.

Before I had left Courtney’s house, her sister had been kind enough to lend me her keys so that I could let myself back in if I bet them home. No problem. I sat there and read my book and was perfectly well behaved. Until mum rang.

"What you doing?" she asked.

“Oh nothing much, just sitting here all alone in Courtney’s house... it’s kind of weird actually.

“Oh really,” she said. “You should mess with her room.”

“But... okay, like what?”

“I don’t know, something mean. Oh! Steal her Amanda picture.”

See Courtney. I told you it was all mum’s idea!

I didn’t exactly steal her Amanda photo... but I did take it off the wall and hide it. Up high. Really really high so she couldn’t see and had to get her sister’s boyfriend to eventually retrieve.

Courtney is now yelling at me.

I regret nothing.

Kilometres travelled: none in Fish (1, 341)
Bridges crossed: 1 by train (149)
Number of times hitting head on campervan: 0 (11)
Number of road workers whom returned my wave: 0 (12)
Number of times James completely freaked out because he thought we were bush bashing: 0 (4)

Location: Brisbane, Queensland, New South Wales

So this is what happened: I met Courtney and blogging fell to the wayside. Can you blame me? Who can stop and take the time to write about your day when there's a tiny ninja sitting next to you? (And, might I mention, she really is very tiny!).

I did (obviously) manage to tear myself away from Byron Bay and headed in to Brisbane... my goodness how I hate city driving. I missed so many turn offs that James was not-so-quietly fuming over my head. "I SAID GO RIGHT!!!"

Before I tell you about my meeting of the infamous Courtney, however, a bit of back story. I met Courtney online about a year ago now – and for those of you not fortunate enough to know her, she’s adorably insane. When I told her about my road trip I very excitedly informed her that I was going to do all the things one sees in road moving, including stopping at a roadside vendor to buy strawberries. A perfectly innocent statement which, to be perfectly honest, I didn’t really have any intentions of doing in the first place – but oh man the reaction I got.

“You can’t do that!” She yelled. “Strawberry vendors are axe murders!”

And so it went for several weeks. Needless to say there was much taunting about my stopping at vendors the whole way up, and I woke every morning to another txt’d reason as to why I couldn’t buy strawberries* that day. Anyways! I tell you all this so as to explain why, before I headed to her place, I simply had to make a stop in at the nearest grocers to purchase a punnet of strawberries.

So, strawberries in hand, I parked the van and made my way up to her house. In through the front gate – no Courtney waiting for me. I’ll confess, I was a little disappointed. Started walking down the drive – no Courtney waiting at the door. I may have pouted a little.

Then the nerf pellets hit the side of my head.

Courtney, charming person that she is – aided and abetted by Lisa on the phone – had hidden behind her mother’s car and was ambushing me with her nerf gun as I approached. I should have known better. I should have expected it. But she shocked me all the same.

Needless to say that pretty much set the tone for the entirety of my stay with Courtney. I’d tell you all we got up to, but quite frankly everyone reading this blog falls into one of two categories: those who know exactly what we were up to because they were egging us on via twitter, or those who don’t need to know just how insane I am. I will say, however, that the evening consisted mainly of nerf pellets, fake pirate moustaches, and me hacking into her twitter account (fun). I’m pretty sure the photos speak for themselves.

Oh, and Lisa? We had much fun sticking that nerf pellet to your skype face before you realised we were up to something. Mwuahahahaha.

Kilometres travelled: 89 (1, 341)
Bridges crossed: 26 (148)
Number of times hitting head on campervan: 2 (11)
Number of road workers whom returned my wave: 3 (12)
Number of times James completely freaked out because he thought we were bush bashing: 1 (4)

Allow me a bit of introspection, if you'd be so kind... actually forget kindness, what are you going to do, say no? Just skip below if you must. So yes. I like to think of myself as a pretty odd kind of person (and not just think, I’ve been told as much): I love science fiction and ideas of the future, but am just as fascinated with the past. I love the immediacy and bustle of the city – and yet would choose to live high in the mountains above all else. I’m obsessed with my gadgets and techy toys... and still am such a hippy at heart. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m pretty weird. And it all depends on what I’m exposed to as to which side of my personality comes to the forefront.

Yeah. I spent the day in Byron Bay. There’s a good chance I’m not coming home. I’m going to buy that Kombi van I always wanted, twist my hair into dreadlocks and weigh my wrists down with hemp bracelets. I’m going to learn to surf (yeah okay maybe not that one!) and live here happily ever after in Hippyville.

Did I mention that I love love love Byron Bay? People stop in the middle of the street to talk to you. There are dreadlocked guys here with hair longer than mine. There are juice stores on every street. The whole place smells like beach and every store sells bracelets. I saw ten Kombis!* I mean really, is there a better place on earth?

*sigh*

Fine. I’ll calm down now. But that was pretty much an accurate portrayal of my mood for most of the day.

My day started when I realised I’d slept in. Not drastically, mind, just enough to put me a good forty minutes behind schedule. But I was up and gone pretty soon and started in on my longest driving day so far (not that it was that long, but still). I pulled over at the Big Prawn, which is now closed down – can someone please explain the thing about "big" landmarks? – and then later at Ferry Park for a Stop Revive Survive (no excuse with the amount of SRS signage along the freeway).

Much closer to Byron Bay I pulled over at the Lennox Head Lookout. Driving up to it I say the headlead from the freeway and I thought to myself, 'Self, if the road starts swerving thatta way, I’ll follow it, I bet the view is amazing up there.’ Sometimes I hate it when I think stupid things like that. I parked the van and the view was lovely... but it wasn’t the headland, to that I had to walk up the hill. By the time I realised that the near vertical slope was NOT going to level out I’d already gone too far to chicken out and go back. I don’t know why I do this to myself, I mean I’m travelling alone! No one would know! ...but then I’d have to come back and blog about how I caved and went back to the van before I got to the top. I finally did make it, and you know what? The view was better from the bottom. Really.

Once in Byron Bay I got a big cheesy grin that lasted all day. I started my Kombi count and got increasingly hyper with each one. I parked the van at the first available spot (there weren’t a lot) and started exploring the shops – the first and only shopping I’ve done the whole trip... well... except for the Candy Kitchen at the Big Banana. I could spend hours shopping at Byron Bay, I mean the very first store I went into sold scarves, postcards, rainbow shiny things, wind chimes, handspun wool, jewellery and notebooks. I’m surprised I left.

It was lunch time by then so I stopped and had sushi on the main drag – which seemed appropriate. After my wanderings I stopped by the beach, which was far windier than any of the other beaches I’d been to this week, and listened to Random Hippie Dude #4 play a guitar. From there I headed up to the lighthouse, at the most easterly point of Australia, and stood waving at New Zealand. I just stood there waving hoping Amanda or CJ would wave back but, alas, I waited in vain.

And now I’m back in my cosy little van again, in a caravan park with, oddly enough, a couple of small turkeys running around. I don’t know why but I’m going with it.

 
*okay, I was kind of disappointed about this, I expected more.

 
Kilometres travelled: 302 (1, 252)
Bridges crossed: 20 (122)
Number of times hitting head on campervan: 2 (9)
Number of road workers whom returned my wave:  6 (9)
Number of times James completely freaked out because he thought we were bush bashing: 1 (3)

Location: Ulmarra, New South Wales

Okay, so apparently if I don't blog in a timely manner, you all think I’m dead. What’s more, you ring/text/facebook/email/tweet me to tell me as much. Good to know I’m loved in a weird way. So on that note, I apologise for not blogging, I was tired and pretty much went straight to bed when I got back. Am I forgiven now?

I had decided to stay on two days in Coffs Harbour because, as I had said, there were a few things I wanted to see and do. Turns out I didn’t do any of them and could have moved on, but not to worry. I had planned to go to the Porpoise Pool and see the dolphins and the marine show (okay okay, I really just wanted to see more penguins), but decided that, even with a student concession, it was a bit pricey. Instead I spent the morning at Park Beach.

I was just roaming around and found they had a walking track leading off the sand and over the hill. It appeared to be getting a bit of attention from the other beachgoers, so I figured I’d go see what was up there. It was pretty steep but well worth the climb once I got up there. I did a bit of quick googling and saw that the path continued on the meet up with the beach I went to yesterday. I didn’t go all along the path, partly because I’m lazy (okay this was a lot of it), but also because I loved the view from the cliff/inlet(?) half way along.

I found a great spot looking out over a huge rock and probably sat there for an hour or so watching the waves crash over it. Every once and a while there’d be a really big wave and the water would spray up high, the mist reaching all the way back where I was. I must admit, I was getting a little crazy hyper watching the waves, trying to guess just how big the wave would break. I talked to some people from this point so they can vouch for my level of craziness and excitement over the waves (it was really cool!).

After finally tearing myself away from the waves, I headed off to investigate a cafe and craft store in Ulmara. I was all up for the side track – James, however, was not. For starters he sent me down the longest road in the middle of nowhere. I’m not kidding, I think I was on it for about forty minutes. Paddock, paddock, paddock, farm house, cow, paddock, paddock, OH MY GOODNESS! LOOK AT THE CUTE LITTLE LAMB!!!!! paddock, paddock... I had no choice but to follow it along as it was pretty narrow and had no streets to turn off on. I just had to hope it would get me where I wanted be be, albeit via the longest route possible. Best of all, when I DID finally turn off the street, landing me exactly in the middle of town, it was right back onto the Pacific Highway that I turned. What are you doing to me, James? I think he’s getting his revenge on me dropping him yesterday.

So! As I said, finally in Ulmara, a good hour and half away from Coffs... and the store is closed! I had a bit of a laugh to myself – of course it would be closed. Not to worry, I puttered around the town anyways and had lunch at the pub before heading back – where again James decided to throw a tantrum and lead me to a tip. This however was a bit of fault on both sides: he took me an alternate way and I chose to ignore him. Once I figured out what he was trying to get me to do, it all became clear.

Once I got back to Coffs Harbour I was pretty much exhausted so I cheated and bought Maccas for dinner. I wasn't awake for much longer after that!

Kilometres travelled: 231 (951)
Bridges crossed: 26 (102)
Number of times hitting head on campervan: 1 (7)
Number of road workers whom returned my wave: 0 (3)
Number of times James completely freaked out because he thought we were bush bashing: 0 (2)

Location: Coffs Harbour

I feel like I'm actually starting to get into a bit of a routine now. I timed myself this morning (cause you know, I’m a nerd) and it took me seven minutes to get up, get dressed and rearrange the van from sleeping mode to driving mode. Even better, when I set up camp this evening I did it equally as fast – park, plug in, arrange curtains and arrange dinner. I was even able to set up my lighting system to read outside while I was waiting for dinner to be cooked. Okay, so they’re all basic things anyone could do, but still, I’m loving it. I do so love this cosy little van!

So! With my new speedy routine I was on the road by seven – of course, this was greatly aided by a lack of early morning fauna (they must have read the blog). I had decided to stay two nights in Coffs Harbour as there were a couple places that I wanted to see while I was here. First up: the Butterfly House.

It’s kind of hard to describe how excited I was about going to the Butterfly House. Do you remember the scene (I’m pretending you’re all dorky and have seen this movie) in The Librarian when Flynn throws the rock at the tree and all the butterflies fly around Nicole and it’s beautiful? Well that’s the image I had in my head. Realistically I knew that was never going to happen, and I gave myself a firm talking to the whole way there.

'You don’t live in a movie,’ I told myself.

‘But I want to!’ Brain me replied.

‘Well tough!’ I said. ‘Just be happy if you see any butterflies at all!’

Brain me sulked for quite some time while other, soul-crushing me continued on her merry way, singing to showtunes and counting bridges.

When I got there I bought my ticket ($14 for students, which I thought a little expensive actually) and listened carefully to the ladies spiel – I didn’t want to get in trouble at the butterfly house! Be careful where you step, they sometimes rest on the ground; don’t go into the gardens; if one lands on you, don’t touch it’s wings; it’s hot in there so come in and out as you need – just be careful!

After nodding attentively I walked (okay I may have skipped a little) over to the entrance. To get into the butterfly house you had to enter a kind of antechamber with three doors. It was obviously just to keep all the butterflies in their housing area, but I felt very excited about the whole thing. I kept waiting to hear the hiss of the doors being hermetically sealed and for guys in bright red hazmat suits to start running around all over the place.

Stepping inside I walked up to a little information station (sadly the only one) where a staff member explained the breeding and metamorphosis process. She explained how only moths entered cacoons, whereas the butterfly, or more accurately the caterpillar, sheds it’s skin and forms a pupa or chrysalis* wherein their body liquefies and their cells realign to form a butterfly. See edumacational!

I was hovering back a little, listening to this lady explain the process and show us the pupa in their incubation chambers when she asked if I was with the older couple standing in front of me. I tried to explain that I wasn’t, but by this stage the lady was already smiling at me and the gentleman was suddenly at my side pulling me forward to join them. There was a brief moment of, ‘um, who are you? Why are you touching me? STRANGER DANGER!!!" but by then he had gone back to listening to the talk on butterfly babies and so I figured the threat was over.

Well... there wasn’t so much a threat, but they had apparently decided that I was one of them for good. The man was taking photos of the butterflies and when he saw me doing the same he kept calling me over to ‘see this here pretty one’ or the one that ‘looked like it would hold still for a good while’. Everywhere I turned there they were. Now Mum, Wendy, Lisa – anyone who’s about to start screaming stranger danger right on back to me – they were harmless enough, just a little too friendly. I heard all about their grandson – he’s fifteen and playing football for three days at Coffs Harbour so they drove him down – and was invited to join them for tea and scones. Actually that’s not entirely true: I tried to sneak out ahead of them but they were too wiley for me. The man was going past me to have a smoke outside when he pointed out the table they were sitting at and told me to ‘go on and order’. I hope they weren’t offended when I declined.

Fellow visitors aside, the butterfly house was lovely (though not quite up to my imagination) and I spent most of my time taking photos and trying to chase the seemingly lone Ulysses butterfly, which are my favourite. I also had one butterfly land on me very early on (the staff said they were attracted to colour and I was wearing a very bright red jacket) and refused to move the whole time. At one point I shook him off and he just came right on back. I don’t know what was on my wrist, but apparently it tastes good to butterflies.

After the butterfly house, Courtney and I tackled the maze they have on the property – I walked, she directed over the phone.

From there I visited the Big Banana, which was a little disappointing. I wanted to learn about bananas, or banana farming, or SOMETHING bananaery, but all I learnt was that kids like toboggan rides and that they can justify selling anything so long as they stamp a banana on it. I did venture up to the lookout however. While there I tried to count the streets to get to the beach, which of course I promptly forgot and so just drive in the general direction till I hit sand.

Park Beach was nice and beachy – though I was surprised by the huge amount of stones the waves bought in. Deciding to do a small ripples photo (what is it about beaches Lisa? I don’t know) I gathered a HUGE amount of pebbles... which promptly ran out about three letters in. Sigh. By the time I had formed all the letters I had amassed something of an audience.

Anyways that was my day today. Looking forward to a relative sleep in tomorrow as I don’t have to be up and driving early.

*Yes Lauren, I thought it.

Kilometres travelled: 196 (720)
Bridges crossed: 41 (76)
Number of times hitting head on campervan: 0 (6)
Number of road workers whom returned my wave: 0 (3)
Number of times James completely freaked out because he thought we were bush bashing: 2 (2)

Location: Port Macquarie

It is quickly becoming a pattern of my road trip that I start my day in the presence of some kind of wildlife very close to my van. I would be concerned, but so far they’ve all been rather benign and far more concerned about acquiring their own breakfast than in me – I am, however, rather worried about what I will find when I get to Courtney’s place. She is rather wild, after all. This morning it was the Kookaburra’s from last night all sitting about to wish me a good morning.

Between stalking the kookaburras and getting the van back in order I left a little later than I would have liked but oh well. I hit the road and headed Port Macquarie way with the intentions of calling in on Renae and co. as they too where holidaying in the area.

After a quick tour of their hotel and rooms, I in turn gave a tour of my accommodation. Basically I just pointed at the van. The kids and I piled into the back, and I think for a while there Kaitlyn had the idea of moving in to her very own van-shaped cubby house. Finally convincing her that sitting on the mattress in the back while I drove was not a great idea, she and I followed Renae, Grant and Jordan to Tacking Point Lighthouse. And might I add, four year olds are the best at playing ‘I Spy’..., though after a while it was kind of hard to keep coming up with different answers for “I spy something beginning with the colour of white” as we drove along behind her parent’s white car.

At the lighthouse (always love a lighthouse!) Jordan tried to start up a who-can-through-a-pebble the furthest contest, of which he proudly declared himself the winner. The highlight, however, was looking out over the sea and spotting a pod of seven or so dolphins (again, the animals are really out in play for me this trip).

From there we headed out to Flynn Beach for fish and chips and some fun on the beach. Kaitlyn and I built a rather spiffy sandcastle, if I do say so myself. I was all prepared to come up with a story about some beautiful princess who lived there, but Kaitlyn, with all her usual forthrightness declared that it belonged to the wicked witch because she liked her best.

With Jordan in his shoes and Kaitlyn with her jeans barely rolled up, we all promised faithfully not to get our clothes wet. And I think we all know just how faithfully this promise was kept as we walked directly over to the rock pools. Still it was worth it to see the urchins and the sea snails – and at one point, a nice couple gave Jordan a ghost crab they had found a little further up the shore. The poor crab was carried all the way back to our seat to show Grant (waylaid with a sprained ankle) and was, unfortunately dropped many times. I think Jordan liked being the possessor of the crab, but didn’t particularly enjoy the feel of its scurrying claws. Kaitlyn declared it too ticklish to carry. It did eventually find its way back to the beach, a little battered but no worse off in the long run.

It was here we parted ways, with the Paynes going back to their hotel and me off to find my caravan park. Edgewater Holiday Park is a lot more crowded that where I stayed last night, with my actually having several close neighbours all around. I’ve noticed that most caravan park holidays fall largely into two categories: families with young kids (they’re the ones riding around and around... and around... on their bicycles) and older retired couples making their way around Australia. Luckily for me I was assigned a space right in the middle of retirement country. As usual, my fascination to sixty year olds continued (I don’t know what it is, I think they all sense I’m a bit of a grandma at heart) and they all wandered over at one point or another to say hi and see how I was. The kindly couple directly next door told me all about their trip and how they were faring. They even asked me to join them for dinner, but since I promised my mother I’d behave myself and not take food from strangers, even little old lady strangers, I politely declined.

And that’s the end of another day for me, as I sit here tucked all cosy in my little Fish.

Kilometres travelled: 353 (524)
Bridges crossed: 21 (35)
Number of times hitting head on campervan: 1 (6)
Number of road workers whom returned my wave: 3 (3)

ETA: I forgot to mention the bunnies! I was exploring the caravan park and found bunnies! What’s with all the animals out and about?

Location: Port Stephens, New South Wales

One of the things I love best about camping is waking up in the morning with the light filtering through the fabric of the tent. It’s such a lovely diffused light and goes a long way in making up for the fact that you can no longer feel your feet from the cold. Now I didn’t expect the same kind of light to come through my curtains this morning, but I was waiting for something similar to convince me to leave my warm blanket.

When I finally did decide that the sun was just not going to appear (and it was seven o’clock by this point), I got up, had what I can already see is going to be my morning struggle with the door*, and was completely floored by what I saw. Instead of the warm morning light, the entire camp grounds, right in the middle of Glenwood Valley, was filled with a thick mist. And walking in that mist, were several beautiful horses. I guess the paddocks connect up or something, but either way it was absolutely amazing watching these shadows move closer and form into horses.

I grabbed my camera pretty quickly but there was no need as that mist wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. The horses didn’t seem to keen on playing with me, being much more focused on their breakfast, but they were happy to have their photo taken and one horse (there’s always one) was curious and stuck their nose right into my camera for a sniff and scratch on the head. (See how I’m back to loving the horses now that I’m safely on the ground?)

It had been my intention to get an early start today to take advantage of the morning sunlight to take some photos on the property – which was such a scenic place, but the mist apparently had other ideas. The entire valley was filled with it, and I do mean the entire valley as I had to drive up and through it to get back on the freeway. Made for quite the daunting drive weaving around the mountain but slow and steady wins the race – even if they’re a little damper for their efforts.

You wouldn’t know it, but these photos were taken from the lookout at Glenwood Valley. I really regret not stopping on my way in because you could see just how deep the valley went. It was as though you would never get to the bottom and now it’s entirely filled with mist.

The drive from Glenworth Valley to One Mile Beach, Port Stephens was rather uneventful, and apart from a quick stop in at McDonald’s to upload some photos and yesterday’s post I drove right through. There may have been much loud singing going on but since there was no one to complain I figured I was rather safe. Not the best road trip singing I’ve experienced (for that I need Lisa) but fun all the same. I also took to counting out all the bridges I crossed, getting louder and louder each time. By the time I crossed my eighth bridge of the day I swear the next car over looked a little concerned. I’ve decided that if anyone wants to do a study on the psychological effects of solo travel, then I’d make an excellent case study – two days and I’m already a little nutty... though I imagine it’s more likely that it’s just my natural tendencies towards insanity going ungoverned.

I’d booked in at Middle Rock Hotel Park for the night and thought it best to figure out where that was before I went a-wandering. Thankfully for me it was easy to find and in the middle of it’s low season, so the attendant was quite helpful in showing me the park and making suggestions as to where I should go. She also made a point of clarifying some of the confusing one-way streets that I would apparently encounter. One in particular was known to trip people up and was said to be quite complex. I took no small delight in hearing that it was called Magnus Street, though I do believe I managed to cover it nicely.

One of the places she recommended I stop in at on my way towards Nelson’s Bay was the look out on Gan Gan Hill, which was in fact only a few minutes away. I am so glad that she took the time to mention it because it was well worth the short detour. From this point you could see out across the entirely of Port Stephens. It was also quiet popular (I guess that attendant told everyone!) as in the twenty minutes or so I was there I saw another five groups come and go.

From there I headed down to the marina at Nelson’s Bay thinking I’d get some chips for lunch and sit on the beach. The marina was quite a bit fancier than I had anticipated but I managed to find a fish and chips shop within my budget and it was the nicest fish I think I’ve ever had. It was attached to a fishing company however, so it’s freshness no doubt played a large part. The marina was rather busy owing to the ‘Sculptures on the Shore’ exhibit they had on, but I just grabbed a few postcards and headed down along the wharf to enjoy the sun.

Half way through writing my first postcard (wait for it Lisa, you’ll see!) I looked up and there, not fifteen metres away from me, was a dolphin! I’ve never seen a dolphin this close up in the sea before, and there it was! What’s more, it had the gall to showboat around, ducking and weaving among the waves in front of where I and another small group were sitting. It went back and forth for a good ten minutes or so before an incoming boat (ironically, a dolphin watching cruise) scared it away.

Knowing nothing could top that excitement, I dashed back to the van before my parking expired and spent the rest of the afternoon puttering around looking at the some of the other beaches in the area – for example, Duchman’s Beach which was only just around the corner from the marina and had next to no people there, much more peaceful (again, thanks to a local’s tip).

Back at the park I decided to jump in early and use the amenities. There’s nothing worse than jumping in the shower after someone else has just been in there. I don’t like it at home and at least then I know who it was who was there. I don’t want someone else’s hot shower air! Anyways, I think it shows great forethought, right? Jumping in early like that. Shame that good thinking didn’t extend to other practical matters – you know, like remembering to pick up your towel. Thankfully I had remembered my change of clothes, and my day’s pants (already a little worse for wear with mud on the knees and a decent collection of sand) became my makeshift towel. I’m choosing to believe that I was being efficient and simply MacGuyvering myself a campsite exfoliate and I don’t want to hear anything to the contrary. You hear that, Courtney?

Thankfully the rest of the evening went off without a hitch. I didn’t particularly feel like cooking so I had picked up some fruit at Coles on my way hole. I cut myself up a bowl of fruit salad and tried to share some pineapple with one of the four Kookaburra’s who had taken up residence on the nearby tree, but he was rather disdainful of my offerings. Oh well.

Kilometres travelled: 171 (251 total)

Bridges crossed: 8 (14 total)

Number of times hitting head on campervan: 3 (5 total)

Location: Glenworth Valley, New South Wales

Once upon a time, a long time ago, a girl went horse riding on a school camp. She had a great time and promptly repressed the (quickly returning) memory of the horse galloping off away from the group with her still astride. As with most young girls, the idea was already firmly entrenched, and no near accident could sway it. Horses = magic.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. I'm also sitting alone in the cold waiting for a tiny little flame to boil a relatively huge kettle of water so you'll excuse my rambling in my attempt to keep some feeling in my fingers. I considered cooking my dinner within my nice warm van. But quickly decided that gas cookers and confined spaces did not mix.

Anyways! My day started with a mad dash to the shops, as I had forgotten to get cash out yesterday. And if only I could convince myself to be up and out of bed at 6.30am every Saturday I would have a new favourite shopping time - everything I needed was open, and yet there were NO customers! Best parking spot? Mine. First in the queue at the ATM? Mine. First still warm Danish for breakfast from Bakers Delight? Oh yes, that would be mine.

Back home, I had just enough time to throw the last few items I needed in my bag (hate packing) and finish off the last few chapters of my book before Nenie, DD, Uncle Glen and Hannah arrived to ferry me off to pick up the campervan.

The van, aptly named Fish, was running a little behind as it was still enjoying it's start-of-trip bath, but was worth the wait. Painted up both sides I was very happy to be one step closer to driving around in the painted up Kombi Van I always wanted. (And yes Brett, Filmore is accompanying me quite nicely).

My road trip was put on hold for half an hour or so as I was oh-so-close to Denise's house and there was no way I was going to pass that up. I drove the eleven minutes to her house and had to make a circle of her street before I saw her waving out the front. The fact that I had difficulty over an eleven minute trip WITH the aid of James the GPS does not bode well...

After a quick stop in visit - where I met parents and had amazing cake (I was only half joking about stealing your mum, Denise, I could use an on-the-road chef to handle this gas cooker) - headed off in earnest.

First and foremost - I love this van. Really. It drives so smoothly and I love being up so high (a sentiment I would later regret)! And it didn't even take long to get used to the size or the mirrors. In fact the only awkward moment of today's driving was yelling out "I spy water, I WIN!" to the empty passenger seat!

(Okay enough is enough, the water will just have to make do with it's current temperature. Two minute noodles, instant coffee and some diced peaches. Yum! I have a new found respect for the guys making pesto while we were camping - their fire building skills wouldn't go astray either.)

So where was I? Oh yes, loving the van. Quick bathroom break (amid fifty thousand other caravanners) at Moony Moony boat ramp but other than that, straight on to today's destination: Glenwood Valley Park.

And what do they do here? Well, among other things they have horse riding.

And oh look, we're back to one full, stupid circle.

I'll confess: I thought myself something of a secret horse whisperer. I mean horses are shiny, I love shiny things! And they always come and talk to me at the fence and let me rub their soft fuzzy noses. What more to it was there than that? I was set!

Did you know horses are bigger on the other side of the fence?

They walked me over to a pretty little horseling named Suede (which personally I thought a little mean - but I named my cow Stroganoff, so who am I to talk?) I gulped and thought, yup, okay, I can handle this.

Yeah, well then the horse guy (handler? Stable hand?) took another look at me and realised that I was a little bigger than most of the other riders today and wisely decided that a larger horse would probably be best. I'm okay with that, makes perfect sense - better for me, safer for the horse... Except he didn't bring back a horse. He bought back a monster of a creature! I actually checked his hoofs to see if it was a Clydesdale.

Perhaps you're thinking I'm exaggerating. I'll give you that, even I thought I was working myself up a bit. However, no less than four people (two of whom worked there) looked up at me dubiously and mentioned what a big horse he was. Now I ensured that I was under the weight limit before booking so I have to believe that this giant horse was not only to cater for me, and was in fact the universe's way of paying me back for my ill-founded confidence. Either way, message received.

The ride was a guided one with about seven of the ten people being first time riders - so no worries there, but I quickly (QUICKLY) began to regret the two hour time frame. What are these people thinking making their beginner rides go for two hours?? The scenery was beautiful, but I didn't get a chance to truly enjoy it as I was desperately counting down minutes in my head.

Handsome, my radioactive gigantor horse, and I actually got on fairly well. I think he was a bit of a lazy old guy who thought his size granted him right of way everywhere he went - much to the annoyance of the horses he insisted on cutting off. The only issues we had was his apparent dislike of the tiny dappled pony (being ridden by the group's only child) and his tendency to rub his chin on the toe of my shoe, threatening to dislodge me from the saddle. We quickly became a grand team - every time the guide told us to "up, Up, UP!" into a trot, we both gave her matching glares, trotted (him trotting, me holding on to the saddle with white knuckles) until we were in the thick of the group and then slowed off to a more civilised speed. Good ol' Handsome.

After dismounting with a quick hug and a severe case of jelly legs I maneuvered my van into my designated space (so unbelievably glad I was camping here) and went about settling in for the night.

So now that I have rambled through my meal and have but a mouthful of my coffee remaining, I will bid you all goodnight. Or day rather, as I will be holding this post until I find a hotspot tomorrow.

KMs traveled: 80
Bridges crossed: 6 (3 by car, 3 on horseback)
Times I bashed my head on caravan: 2