 Click for a larger view |
Brisbane to Mundubbera
via Brisbane Valley
I took the wheel for the first driving shift. We diverged from the
coastal route and by mid-morning, had reached the
small town of Kilcoy where I pulled into a roadside park so we could take a
break. A nearby and unprepossessing take-away looked like the most
convenient place and while we waited in the busy shop to be served, I
noticed a group of leather-clad bikies pulling in to the kerb out front,
take off their helmets and join us and the rest of the customers inside. I
was intrigued at how ordinary they looked minus jackets and helmets. None of
them was exactly youthful. Later, as we sat in a shelter in the park sipping
our coffee, we saw more bikies on the road. We wondered if Saturday was the
day for the ‘lads’ to be out having fun and on each of our following
Saturdays in different locations, we saw bikie groups out on the road.
Bruce took the wheel for the next leg. A couple of hours passed and we were
hungry and a little fatigued by the time we entered Kingaroy, the heart of
peanut country. We did a brief tour of the town centre after which I
suggested we stop for lunch. Bruce was dubious about taking our large
vehicle into the shopping mall parking area. It was now very hot, we were
both becoming touchy and I didn’t want to drive any further before having
something to eat. Finally, not satisfied with the spot I suggested we park,
and after driving around the block once more, Bruce finally agreed to my
first suggestion. There we made a light snack and while we ate, I saw the
familiar golden arches signifying MacDonalds not far away and a shaded
parking spot near it. I suggested we could do a U-turn to get there and
have a coffee at Maccers. Somewhat tersely, Bruce agreed, but making the
somewhat tight U-turn with the big van proved trickier than we’d
anticipated. It took Bruce a lot of muscle and patience to get the old van
into reverse gear to complete the turn, and by that time, a taxi was waiting
patiently for him to finish. That didn’t make Bruce any happier though we
were grateful for the courtesy shown to us. At last, and with relief, we
parked in the shady spot and almost ran along to MacDonalds, only to find it
jam-packed with Saturday family diners. Bruce, now fed up, waited while I
made use of the available facilities and we hurried away to the shopping
mall. There we found a coffee shop and sat hopefully waiting. Alas, when the
coffee arrived it was not very hot, much to coffee gourmet Bruce’s
distaste. But at least we were no longer dry and were inspired to explore
the near-by huge discount store where we were rewarded with the discovery of
tea pots. The one we chose was utilitarian to say the least, but suited our
purposes and quickly became part of our daily routine.
Bruce took the wheel for the last leg of our day’s journey and eventually we
reached the small and dusty town of Mundubbera. Bruce, relying on the GPS
for direction to the caravan park, was soon in his increasingly regular
quandary. The GPS did not seem to be following what he had seen on the map.
Muttering darkly to himself, he followed his intuition and to my great
relief, we found our destination. This caravan park had nothing of the
sophistication of our previous two stops. We had no private en suite and
though the surrounding grounds were tidy, the general feeling was of dryness
and things done on a limited budget. I hurried away to find the amenities
block and to make plans for my inevitable foray to it in the middle of the
night. I anticipated that somewhat apprehensively.
The light was fading fast and if we were to use our new skillet, cooking and
eating outdoors, we would have to be quick. Hastily, Bruce attached the
electricity, I set up the table and cooked the meat and eggs and we ate.
Fortunately, the food was satisfactory, but it was almost dark and difficult
to see. Bruce remembered he’d packed a small light. We plugged it in but
it wouldn’t work. Next he remembered he had a torch, but when he switched
it on, it wouldn’t work either and needed recharging. With great effort, I
restrained myself from speech, knowing we were both tired and the last thing
we needed was a fight. I cleared the table, washed up and as quickly as
possible, prepared for an early night, having already noticed mozzies were
out in force.
As we had no company, Bruce tried to set up the TV on his lap-top but again
without success. We were out of range. Then the internal van lights dimmed
and went out as they had in Brisbane. There, we had assumed the caravan park
must have had problems with its power supply, but now we began to grasp that
it was the van that had the problem. Bruce became very frustrated, again
muttering unkind words, when suddenly, the lights came on again. It would
take us til almost the end of our trip to work out what was going on. It
seemed that the internal van lights worked off the van battery power, the
battery would run down and the lights would go off until local power
recharged the battery again. Then the lights would come on once more.
Not in the best of moods, Bruce decided to retire. Though I was more
sanguine about sitting in the dark and meditating til the lights came on
again, I decided not to laugh or to argue with him, but to accompany him to
bed. After all, I had another more pressing issue to think about. Knowing I
would have to get up and go to the amenities block in the middle of the
night, I couldn’t sleep until nature’s signals told me I’d better get going.
Quietly, slowly and with great trepidation, I donned my gown and thongs,
seized the torch – thankfully now operating – and set off. It was by now
freezing cold – about 1 deg. Centigrade, but such was my fear of unknown
attackers that I did not consider that and hurried on to reach my
destination.
On the return trip, at least now more comfortable, I again hurried towards
the safely of the van. Something I hadn’t noticed before retiring, the
presence of another campervan so similar to ours that in the night shadows I
could not distinguish the difference, had parked right next to ours. In my
semi-awake state I began to open the door of the other van and was shocked
into full wakefulness by a different voice asking assertively, ‘Who’s that?’
Hurriedly, I apologised, muttering ‘Wrong van!’ and made a quick getaway to
the comfort of the correct van. Unfortunately, I repeated this whole
procedure for a second time in the early hours of the morning. I would be
relieved to get away!