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Some views of our van:    NRMA Darlington Beach camping site:  |
Sydney to Coffs Harbour (Darlington Beach)
A sunny day greeted us. By 7.00 a.m. we were perched high in the seats and ready to go. Bruce jerked the van into life, it shuddered resentfully and slowly moved away from the kerb. A passing neighbour walking his dog waved cheerfully. ‘Have a great holiday!’ he called.
Carefully, Bruce negotiated the Pacific Highway with only one or two sudden conk-outs. At last we were on the F3, rolling along. We didn’t [couldn’t] talk much and suddenly it occurred to Bruce to try some music he’d carefully recorded on to MP 3 discs. We might be able to hear that ... But of course, it was soon evident that unless we turned the sound volume up to blast level, we couldn’t. Another rueful shrug and another adjustment to life in our old van, and we kept on going ...
We reached Heatherbrae beyond Newcastle and made our first stop. Bruce had realised more clearly than I that we couldn’t park our ‘monster’ just anywhere but would have to look for spots that were long enough not to cause inconvenience. Fortunately, MacDonald’s parking was adequate. We could relax for a while, but I knew, with some anxiety, that my first real turn at the wheel was about to begin.
Nervously, I edged the campervan onto the Pacific Highway, glad to follow Bruce’s advice to move to the slow lane while I became used to the gears. It would take some days before I felt ready to move into overdrive and even longer before I was ready to wrestle with the reverse gear shift. On the way, we were beginning to realise we had other problems with the van. Every time we had to brake hard, several of the cupboard doors would swing open, depositing our clothes, cooking implements and much else all over the floor. The person not driving would work their way carefully to the centre of the van and restore order, only to have it happen again at the net abrupt stop. Then we realised it was the sliding side door of the van rattling, the shower box door rattling and cutlery drawer rattling as well as the van itself. It was a true cacophony.
We stopped in a familiar park at Kempsey for a sandwich lunch of leftovers that I’d made before we left home. Then Bruce took the wheel for the last leg for the day. Thankfully, by late afternoon, we arrived at Darlington Beach caravan park just beyond Coffs Harbour. When Bruce had parked the van carefully on our spot, I hurried to inspect our private en suite toilet and shower just a few metres away. It was pristine, completely prepared with soaps, shampoos and tissues and had a fan and a heater. My spirits soared and I began to relax for the first time that day.
Shortly afterwards, after checking the park shop, buying milk, bread and chocolate-coated ice creams, we took a walk around the well-kept park which adjoined the nearby beach and had its own golf course. Wallabies bounded past, ignoring us, and birds swooped and dived among the high gum trees. I was surprised at the number of obviously permanent cabins in the park and even one or two houses, though I could well understand wanting to live here. We were to see many more such permanent dwellings in caravan parks as we travelled around the state.
Feeling much refreshed, we returned to our van, noticing groups of campers gathered round the barbecues and clearly enjoying themselves. I fixed a simple meal while Bruce applied himself to making a string loop to wrap around the handle of one cupboard door to ensure it would stay closed from then on. I moved my soft clothing into it so the door would not have too much internal pressure on it. We put spare linen around the cutlery to stop the rattling and made other adjustments to cut back the noise as much as possible.
We had already found how important it was to keep everything in its place as space was so limited and we were already developing routines to help us live so closely without getting on each other’s nerves. For a while that first evening, we watched TV on Bruce’s lap-top and felt quite at home in its familiar company but were now also feeling very tired. Lastly, we made up our separate bunks, as I knew I’d be getting up during the night and didn’t want to disturb Bruce. Lying on my bunk, gazing out the sliding window above my head, I delighted in the peace of the place as I tried to count the twinkling stars among the leaves of the eucalyptus towering above the van. I felt relaxed and optimistic. If this was a foretaste of the rest, then the risk we had taken in having our campervan holiday would pay off handsomely.