Being Thankful

Dropping Johnny off at the airport was bittersweet – we were losing a valuable companion but gaining back some space. It was nice to have a quartet for a while; having company in the back of the van while the bros drove onwards was nice. We even started a band, “The 2 Beanie Crew,” and we performed our debut single Somewhere Over the Rainbow on the beach in Port Lincoln. Alas, all good things come to an end and we shipped J-Dawg back to Victoria.  Like all long road trips, we wanted to catch up some time after spending a few days in Port Lincoln. We jockeyed the camper Westward and made it to Drystone Walling to pack it in for the night. When we slid open the side door, we were immediately swarmed by flies – and that was the least of our troubles.

As the blanket of night curled around us, the biters came out to haunt us. Luckily, Tim had packed a mosquito net in his suitcase, so we were able to perform our routine shotgun without getting nibbled on. But things just kept getting worse. Winged devils of all shapes and species were pawing the windows for us to let them in. We realized we were in big trouble when we started to sweat inside the van, and only two of the windows had screens on them. While I made dinner, Tim and Steve went about cutting the mosquito net out in shapes of the defenseless windows and fitted them over top with electrical tape. 

We thought we would be safe, but we were still getting swarmed!! Horrified, Steve discovered that some bugs were so thirsty for our blood that they were squeezing through the screens! All hands on deck were called, and a mad double-screening and mass murder of anything that had infiltrated our defences ensued. After the massacre, we ate our dinner with beads of sweat rolling off our foreheads and set up the beds. We were hesitant to give ourselves to sleep that night, our imaginations running wild with what was wiggling through the netting and feasting on us while we lay unknowing. Go figure – kids can swim with Great Whites but we can’t handle bugs…In any case, we’ve now enforced our barricades so that they will keep us from our flying friends for the rest of the trip. The next day we rose early and left fast to escape them. Plus, we had ground to cover – all the way to WA!

The drive to Western Australia was long and outback-like. Many features of the landscape reminded me of the Riley/Kacy/Heather trip in July. The earth was red, the bushes were short and windswept, and the land was flat, flat, flat in all directions. We stopped along the way to see the Haystacks – a random outcropping of massive boulders that were dropped into the middle of nowhere. There wasn’t too much to see, so we continued forward, knowing the South-West held all the gems.

Crossing the border threw a monkey wrench into the plans. We rolled past many quarantine signs, warning that any fruit, vegetables, and honey products would be confiscated or ensue heavy fines. We were pretty nonchalant about the whole thing until we approached the barricades. Just like crossing from Niagara to Buffalo, there were booths with officers to man the stations. Our sensible side decided we’d better come clean. Easing up to the window, we started our declarations, and immediately the lady started the reaping. In the end, we only lost a bag of potatoes, a bag of apples, some bananas, and a jar of honey. The matron saint at the border tipped us off that a lot of “salads” go across – many people in WA apparently like their onions quartered and placed around the outskirts of their salads with only a small dribble of dressing in the corner – strange, hmm? We pulled over to a picnic table and massacred all our taboo vegetables into a makeshift salad in order to pass the border police. In the end, it worked and we were separating our veg as soon as you could say “WA.”  That night, we only continued a little passed the border to a free site and camped in the estranged outback, with unknown bones outlining our desolate campsite.

The next day we drove into the town of Esperance – the first actual city we’d come across in many miles. As soon as we drove in, we realized we were going to be S.O.L. for free-camping. “Welcome to Esperance,  Camping Permitted Only in Designated Areas,” read the intro sign. Hmmm. Taking a short tour around the place, we discovered that Esperance had been there, done that, given the ticket before. Free campers were fined up to $100 for posting up in a site that wasn’t a designated campground. The cheap-o’s that we are, we circled around, trying to justify random sleeping places – the most likely, parking directly in front of a campervan rental agency with the other display models, to fit in for the night. In the end, our judgment got the better of us and we ended up paying to $40 it was to camp at a real powered site with toilets and showers.  It was the right thing to do after all, and we had a great campsite to look forward to the next day – Lucky Bay.

Lucky Bay ended up staying true to its name – it was a seriously auspicious spot for us. Aside from us being so ‘lucky’ to camp on such a beautiful and untouched beach, it was also the site of our first major crisis on the road trip that we narrowly averted. The beautiful day was spent in the sunshine on the pristine white sands, frolicking in the icy surf and playing paddle-ball at a semi-competitive level. There was quite an irritating wind blowing through, but it could hardly ruin the spectacular scenery. Realizing that many 4 wheel drives stationed themselves on the beach, we enquired about the tide.  Even though our van wasn’t a 4 wheel drive, we had enough time to enjoy a beach dinner before advising her safely off onto dry land. (I’m sure you can all see where this is heading – pity, we didn’t.)

The afternoon was lovely.  Coffees and chats in the shelter of the van, with the best of views. Around dinnertime, we realized that every single soul was evacuating – probably  a sign that we should be on our way – and we did heed this tentative warning, that is, until we spotted a tourist’s dream; a kangaroo on the beach. Right at the exit from the beach to the mainland, Steve spotted her. Knowing how rare of a sight this was, the 3 of us jumped from the van, and breathlessly approached the wild animal. For a fleeting second I said, “I feel like we should move the van off of the sand...,” but the miracle sighting could be gone any second, so we had to be quick. Big White was left 100 metres from safety. 

And oh, what a miraculous sight it was! The mama ‘roo was actually nursing her baby, and let us approach quite near to them.  The special moment was only heightened by the spotting of wild dolphins cruising in from off-shore. Tim ran willy-nilly down the beach to frolic with the porpoises, as Steve and I hugged and looked upon paradise. We turned around to the van and I queried, “Is it just the angle we’re on, or is our van sinking?” Nonchalantly we walked up to the white cubicle and quickly realized, that we were indeed sinking. And we didn’t have the keys. Moods changed instantly.

Suddenly I was running down the beach screaming “Tim, do you have the keys, the van is sinking!” He didn’t have them, I turned on my heel and sprinted back to the area with the kangaroos, remembering that my shallow pockets held the keys not too long ago.  I scoured the ground and spotted the blue tags fortunately sitting on the sand in plain view. Snatching them up, I relayed them back to Steve. By this time, Tim had made his way back to us and we spun our wheels frantically in hopes we would slip by this mishap. We all had a sinking feeling that we weren’t getting out of this one easily. Our eyes shot panic like lightning bolts between each other. Tim and I ran up to the campsites in hopes of finding saviors. Steve and a passing Asian tourist tried to think of how to approach the situation. I felt like I was in a novel or a bad daytime television series. I ran into the clearing, barefoot and beachy, breathlessly shouting at anyone who would listen “Does anyone have a 4 wheel drive? We’re stuck in the sand and we’re sinking!” Some people looked away. Some did not. I was driven back to the beach by a gentleman in his big 4 wheel drive, with him chuckling assurances that this rescue was routine - but even he grew serious when he realized we had nothing to hook the straps to. Our van kept sinking. In order to strap on to our van successfully without breaking anything, we needed a hook.

The boys and our new recruit, along with the Asian tourist started to dig under the wheels. I set out yet again to find a “D-shackle.” Again, I flew with anxiety through the campsite. I knocked on the doors of couples peacefully eating their dinners and interrupting them with our drama. Nearly everyone I came across went down to the beach to lend a helping hand. It never ceases to amaze me how, when you really need it, the human condition is recognized by all and people step up to the plate. With all the help of more than a dozen people, it was finally a Freemantle supporter with a “ball bag” who saved our bacon. We put the bag under the van, and hooked up the tube to the exhaust pipe. Slowly, our hopes began to rise, as the wheels rose from the sand. Seaweed was being shoved under the wheels along with the wooden boards that make our bed at night. When it was quite possible that we were going to get out of this unscathed, I managed to snap these 2 photos.  Hearts racing, the van rose from the swamp of the beach, and we literally jumped for joy. Everyone involved got stinky hugs from all of us, as we had nothing else to offer them in appreciation. The next two days, the three of us quietly reflected on how lucky we were and also how stupid we were, and how thankful we are to the people who helped us.  

In our daze of almost losing our live-in vehicle, we left Lucky Beach and ended up in the woods at Torbay Head. The moment we pulled up we were questioning our decision as there was a group of strange looking teenagers camping on the Saturday night. The sun was ripe to set though, so we decided they were probably harmless and went about our business. It wouldn’t have been so awkward except for the fact that the campsite was so small and we were basically beside the wayward youths. We definitely weren’t going to be hypocritical of their partying, but we wanted a quiet night. We stuck to ourselves and tucked in early – only to listen to the ranting and moaning of the adolescents all night long. When morning arrived, I exclaimed, “we made it!”

After two nights of (very unusual) stressful experiences, we exhaled a sigh of relief when arriving in Denmark and peeing in their exemplary public toilets at the i-site. After being saturated with information about things to do, we set off into the hills of the town, on a wine tour. *(Actually, before we even left Albany, our path fatefully crossed with Wignall’s winery! Unfortunately, no Wignalls were on site, but I went in and tasted their wares, and left with a bottle of Port, like any true Wiggy would.) 

 Tim and I mercilessly indulged in a full day of wine tasting while Steven took one for the team and chauffeured us around. At the end of the fun and games, we tottered into Shelly Beach campsite. The men strung up their fishing lines while I cooked up dinner and we ate it under the brilliance of the moon, watching the fluorescent glow stick bob with the aggressive waves. Nothing was biting, so we called it a night and had a serene sleep listening to the waves call in.

Our troupe woke up and started our day with fishing off of the Mcgreary rocks and phoning home to wish the fam a happy Thanksgiving. (Unfortunately, our dreams of having a Thanksgiving meal just like home was thrown to the dogs as we realized we had sausages to eat in the fridge, and had jambalaya instead.) Once again, no fish wanted anything to do with us so we moved on to something we knew we would enjoy. Denmark’s Elephant Rocks and Green Pools.

The scenery was spectacular and fortuitously the sun was shining. I spent the better part of the day reading some good old fashioned literature and making friends with crabs while the boys did boyish things like snorkel and swim and fish. That night, we rested our bones in the beautiful forests of the Mt. Burnside rest area; eating our jambalaya and doing shots of gin from seashells we collected from the beach.

Although it wasn’t a real Thanksgiving meal, I feel that all of us are fully aware of how thankful we are for our luck thus far on the trip, but also that we have lives and families that allow us to indulge in a massive responsibility-free journey. So although we don’t have turkey and we don’t have our families and friends close to us, we are fully aware of how much we have to be thankful for.