I was just getting comfortable at my little truck stop layover when the wind started to pick up dramatically and my awning pull chain started banging on the caravan wall. “Damn, better tie that up again”, I said as I lurched out of the caravan door and headed to the back. Now, I had never really experienced true discombobulation before this moment. I grabbed the chain and went to secure it to the back support arm of the awning. My rote brain was looking for a place to tie off and my eyes registered a blank caravan wall. For at least two seconds, I did some kind of mental double-take. And then…..oh shit. The arm was not attached to the van. Nothing to say it had EVER been there, except for empty screw holes and a nasty gash towards the rear bumper bar.
Clearly a drop bear had….no, the insurance company is not going to buy that. I can only assume that somewhere on that days adventure, the van had strayed ever so slightly somewhere on those winding, narrow roads and scraped something. There wasn’t a sound or a jolt. The awning itself remained in situ, supported by the other two arms. “This can’t be good”, I thought ruefully. But then, lady luck returned to comfort me. I found a Jayco dealership in Bairnsdale, only 100klm further on. A quick call to NRMA (they are absolute legends) and my claim was done in 10 minutes. Jayco had the paperwork within the hour. I DO have to wait until the 8th of December before repairs commence, but since I was going to be on the east coast anyway, I’m going to circle lazily till then. After all that drama and mental gymnastics, a couple of generous scotches were self-proscribed as I pondered my next move. Unfortunately, after those scotches, the pondering was put on hold till the next morning.
Now, in a truck stop, your bedfellows can arrive at any time, with a variety of payloads. During the night, not one, but two double decker cattle trucks inserted themselves in the two spaces next to me. Nothing inspires you more to make an early start, than a wafting of cow dung across your tea and toast. I had sent Jayco the evidence of my misfortune the previous day, but he thought it wise to have a look himself. I had suggested late that morning, but now olfactorily ‘incentivized’, I arrived on his doorstep just after 9am. What need to be replaced would only take a day, but the fibreglassing at least a week. Where to now? The plan WAS to hit the coast at Golden Beach, but being short of the readies due to replacing one van tyre, settled on a less ambitious destination – Metung.
But first, a movie review. Killers of the Flower Moon had been on my bucket list for months. It’s a long, long epic. Bad news is there’s no intermission. Good news is, it moves so slowly that if you have to duck out, you won’t miss anything. In summary, the acting is great, especially Robert de Niro. Based on a true story makes it enthralling. It’s slow moving but compelling. But for such a long movie, the ending did not justify the means. More turgid than triumphant. A little more license wouldn’t have hurt. I left the cinema appreciating the movie but vaguely dissatisfied.
Metung is only 20 minutes from Bairnsdale, a bayside resort/marina village for the well heeled Toorak crowd. The free camping area was a bitumen cul-de-sac with facilities, but you’d be hard pressed to get a game of volley ball going , it was that tiny. The road snaked it’s way along the shoreline past millions of dollars worth of boat, eventually spilling into the trendy village of Metung.
Luckily I had spied a promising dirt road about 3klm’s back running parallel with the Tambo River. So I left all that money on the other side of the hill to check it out. The hunch was justified with a riverside parking bay on a dead end road. It would be home for the next few days.
I’ve noticed a subtle difference between travelling on the road and living on the road. Spending a few months in a smallish geographic area creates a lot more free time to do not very much. I even started to do the breakfast fire thing and a bit of fishing. The trick is to not spend too much in your own head and have a few things to do every day.
Well, this was great but I haven’t seen the ocean for nearly four months. I’m looking forward to feel the sand between my toes again and the sound of crashing surf. Who knows, pasty boy might have a tan by Christmas.
