We’re in a shopping centre somewhere in Perth and Woody questions some poor stranger about the whereabouts of the nearest Dan Murphy liquor store. I keep insisting that Google is easier but Woody reckons it is much more fun scanning the crowds for a likely ‘drinker’ then having a bit of a chat. He doesn’t factor in the difficulty of deciphering the resulting instructions….”just go down there oh, about a kilometre, turn left at the service station, then right or is it left…..?” Continue reading Taking Directions…from locals
Woody decided to change the voice on our poor misguided Gabbi Garmin GPS. We no longer have a confused English woman travelling with us. Instead we jump in fright every time she speaks. Why? Well this one has a broad Aussie accent and it sounds like we’ve got a mate sitting in the back seat. I’m voting to bring back the Pommie sheila. Continue reading Turn left will ya darl?
Much too busy talking we blissfully follow Gabbi Garmin’s instructions without consideration to where we are going. We soon find ourselves in Rushworth and then passing the Waranga Basin on a rather poor and bumpy road. Who needs the Birdsville Track when you’ve got a GPS for the occasional spot of adventure. Continue reading Where the hell are we?
Bravely we decide to do the self drive tour of Kingaroy, we came undone doing this in Charters Towers when Woody threatened to fling the talking CD out the car window. Anyway we do our best to follow the weird instructions which are as cryptic as a car trial. Out past ex Queensland Premier Joe Bjelke Peterson’s Bethany property then back across town to the Mt Wooroolin lookout with its 360 degree view of the area. More intriguing than the view is the lookout structure itself. It is almost as though someone was trying to avoid building steps and instead … Continue reading It’s a matter of how you look at it
We’ve been on the road for some time now and travelled 4000 kilometres, yet for some time I have had the sneaking suspicion that no one else in our little group knows where we are actually going. As I walk out of the water after my swim the others sheepishly declare that they were pondering what they would do if I had drowned. The Indian Ocean thankfully isn’t all that rough. Their answer was to stay in Geraldton forever as they didn’t know where we were headed or how to get home! It’s nice to be needed isn’t it? Continue reading Where are we now Mal?
When we checked in at the Big4 caravan park on the beach at Port Denison in WA the receptionist told us that the sunsets have been good and that we should grab an empty box and watch the sunset with a glass of wine. To explain that: a box is a cabin and WA law prevents you from drinking in an outdoor public place. So we took her advice and toddled off with our drinks to the verandah of an empty cabin and happily drank legally while watching nature put on a stunning show. Continue reading Lost in Translation
We intend to spend the night at the Sebastian Recreation Reserve so we take the Marong Bypass to avoid Bendigo. It is still raining, steady soaking rain. Gabbi Garmin decides to send us down a shortcut and before we know it we are sliding along on a stretch of very wet clay road, hanging on and hoping that our new four wheel drive does what it is meant to do. By the time we reach Sebastian we look like we’ve been to the outback with red mud from top to tail. Needless to say Gabbi gets told once again. Sebastian … Continue reading Sebastian, Vic
With each trip we learn a little more and we decide that we need more in the way of maps than an outdated Atlas and two Camps Guides, oh and of course Google Maps on the iPhone. We now have our new Garmin GPS plugged in and it has been updated with the most recent maps as well as the Free Camps from the OZ Camps web site, which show as Points of Interest on the GPS. Wow there’s nothing stopping us now! She’s even directing us around our own suburb, this is a little disconcerting, “no, we are not … Continue reading GPS
We have stopped in Barcaldine, Qld and chat to a couple who tell us that we should stay the night in ‘Barky’ as there is little to see in Blackall apart from the wool scour and that the free camp would be too wet from all the rain. But we had been intrigued by the humorous brochure for Blackall so we turn south. Through 100kms of gidgee (or Gidyea) scrub to Blackall and what a charming little town it is. There are avenues of bottle trees and lots of green grass. We set up at the free camp on the … Continue reading Oh, There’s Nothing in Blackall