The Joys of Caravanning

Some time ago, we bought a caravan when we were back in Australia – mainly as an accommodation base when visiting family – but we were also curious to find out if travelling by van to explore more of Australia could be an option for us in the future. So, this year on our 3-month trip back to see family and friends we decided to give it a whirl. “”Let’s go caravanning” we said, “It’ll be fun” we said…..

We planned to do a 4-6 week trip from Cairns to Uluru and back. Before leaving the island, I spent many hours planning an itinerary, booking caravan parks ahead of time and generally trying to be as prepared and organised as possible.  But nothing, of course, could prepare us for the Donald Trump shitshow and his disastrous war on Iran.  Suddenly, because of soaring diesel prices and uncertainty of supply, it looked like our plan was too ambitious.  OK, move to Plan B – a shorter trip around the Atherton Tablelands for 3 weeks or so – not so much to spend on diesel and a better guarantee of supply.  

Bruce installed more solar panels on the roof and a lithium battery and invertor so we could spend time off-grid. We purchased essential first aid items and van accessories like towing mirrors (more on those later), chocks, and levellers.  We were set! 

We just needed to help Nick and Sally move up to Dimbulah on the Tablelands, where Nick had taken a job as manager on one of the largest citrus farms in the country, and then we’d be off.  

The move went well – we’d towed the van up the steep and winding Kuranda range to the farm and were checking everything was working when we discovered our 3-way absorption fridge that works on mains power, gas, or 12v wasn’t working on gas.  Dammit! Back down the Kuranda range we went to Cairns to get it fixed. The jet burner was apparently clogged, so Andy cleaned it up and assured us the fridge and freezer were now performing well on gas. Hurray! Up the range we went again, ready to give this caravanning lark a red-hot go.

Our first stop in Atherton was only an hour’s drive away, so a nice easy start to our trip.  We’d heard there was a great IGA supermarket there, so after parking the van we headed into town and loaded up with fresh supplies.  Only now the fridge didn’t seem to be working on gas OR power and of course we had a fridge-full of food that was getting warmer instead of colder. Nooo!!!  It was the weekend so no point heading back to Cairns. We decided to press on to our next stop, stuffing the fridge and freezer with as much ice as we could.  

By the time we got to the pretty, historic town of Herberton, the ice had started to melt and leak out of the fridge so there was a river of icy water across the floor to mop up.  I’d just finished the cleanup when Bruce opened the overhead cupboard above the stove.  I should have known better having lived on a boat for all those years, but for some reason I’d stored the metal Yeti water bottles in there, and of course the largest one rolled right out and smashed the glass cover on the stove below.  Tiny, tiny shards of safety glass everywhere, and I mean EVERYWHERE.  Back to cleanup mode, only we couldn’t find the dustpan and brush anywhere and we had no vacuum cleaner. In desperation, the only brush I could put my hands on was the toilet brush (thankfully clean) – so there I am on my hands and knees cleaning the floor with a toilet brush…. did I also mention it was cold and raining?  Are we having fun yet? Not exactly an auspicious start to our adventure.

Nevertheless, we enjoyed our stay in Herberton – especially the unique Spy & Camera Museum established by an ex-CIA operative who’d settled in the area.  Bizarre, but a fantastic collection of all types of cameras, including some real James Bond-type ones. If you ever get to Herberton, don’t miss it!  

We met some lovely locals and learned about the mining history of the town.  Alas, it was impossible to continue our journey without a functioning fridge, so back down the range to Cairns we went. This time Andy replaced the whole gas burner jet, and the 240v miraculously also started working so we were back in business.  It was nearly my birthday, so we decided to head back to the farm to celebrate with the family.

So now we’re onto Plan C – an even shorter itinerary due to the time we’d lost. Wiser people might have seen the writing on the wall and given up, but no, not us – “surely it’s going to get better? “we said to each other.

Mt Surprise lived up to its name – we stopped at a caravan park that was really just a big paddock with several power poles dotted around.  We were so busy trying to choose a spot to park that somehow we completely missed how close we were to the power pole with the metal donation box hanging off the side of it. The end result was a cracked window cover and a couple of dings in the cladding on the van, and one very upset driver.  A recurring image of a wonderful Gary Larson cartoon kept popping into my head –

In fairness to Bruce, it was a momentary, but costly, loss of concentration as he generally did a great job of towing the van and getting us in and out of tight parking spots. We saw some beautiful places along the way, including numerous waterfalls.

The furthest we ventured was Cobbold Gorge, situated 40 km down a dirt road. The road had recently been graded, so it wasn’t too rough but there were lots of steep gullies with causeways which required careful and slow navigation.  We were starting to congratulate ourselves on getting the hang of things, not realising the coup de grâce was about to be delivered. On our way back from the Gorge, we successfully navigated the dirt road again and stopped in Forsayth for a cup of coffee at the Goldfields Hotel. On our way out of Forsayth we crossed the same gully and causeway that we’d successfully crossed on the way in, but this time there was an almighty bouncing and shaking and the sound of metal grinding on tarmac.  Turns out the van had bounced off the towball because it hadn’t been locked in place when we left Cobbold Gorge 40 km back. Good grief! Now we were really in a pickle.   We were both so shocked we stood there like two deer in the headlights.  I mean, we’re competent people, right?  Right??? At that point we felt anything but competent and more like complete numpties.  Luckily for us, some good samaritans turned up in the form of other caravanners and a local guy, and they quickly got the van jacked up and back on the towbar with no real damage done except to our pride.   We added another item to the already extensive checklist on leaving – “Ensure towball is locked on!”

With our confidence now in tatters, we viewed each day with trepidation, wondering what else could possibly go wrong.  We found that out on the trip from Georgetown to Undara Lava tubes. Undara is a fascinating place, and the lava tubes are quite spectacular. Usually they’re dry but with all the rain in recent months the largest one was still flooded, so we waded through the water to the end, where hundreds of bat roosted in the crevices.

The road to Undara is sealed but only single-lane with wide dirt shoulders on either side, requiring you to pull over onto the dirt when oncoming traffic approaches.  And the traffic in these parts mostly consists of other caravans and ‘road trains’ – massive trucks hauling several trailers behind them, often barrelling along at 100km/h.  One passed us loaded with hay, and soon after we realised something was missing – the air vacuum created by the road train had sucked our towing mirror right off the wing mirror where it’d been clamped on. Towing mirrors are legally required when towing a van, but they can be eye-wateringly expensive. We’d decided to get a set of clamp-on mirrors that were more affordable, but clearly not so durable… we moved the remaining mirror to the driver’s side where it remained securely clamped…until it too got sucked off just outside Atherton on our way back to the farm.  No point stopping to try and retrieve it, it would have been smashed to smithereens.

And so ended our ignominious foray into caravanning.  The van is now safely parked in a shed on the farm, where I suspect it might stay for quite some time. Anyone interested in a secondhand caravan with only a few dents and scratches?!

I’d like to think that having made all the rookie mistakes, the next van adventure might go much, much better. But I also remember the immortal words of our dear friend Marce when Bruce was trying to teach her to snorkel and scuba dive when we were cruising together in the Pacific. After a particularly frustrating session she ripped off her mask and yelled “It’s just not my f#@king sport!”. I guess we feel the same way about caravanning…give us an ocean, a boat, or a scuba tank anyday!

So now we’re back on Pulau Dayan, doing our best to de-stress and looking forward to more adventures of an island kind that hopefully will be less eventful…