At Hay, NSW, we plop ourselves in the warm morning sun and have a cuppa. Then Woody tells us that the fridge won’t start (on gas). We drive into town, buy a new bottle of gas and have a delicious … Continue reading Frigid!
Autumn 2017 In the Murray Valley we head out of town to a camp at Tallangatta Creek which happens to be closed, on our return to town we are tooted by a passing car and realise that our caravan lights aren’t working and the plug is hanging on the road shredded. The local servo tells us that a plug should be in tomorrow. Tomorrow never comes. The auto electrician in Corryong is a wizard and does a great job of replacing the plug and giving us tourism tips. He suggests that we use Corryong as a base and drive up … Continue reading Shredding our electricals
A few kilometres from Streaky Bay, Elle & El Prado blow or should I say shred a caravan tyre. They ring the RAA and prepare lunch in the van, help promptly arrives before they can barely take a bite. Another reason why all vanners should join their state’s version of RACV Total Care! Continue reading Well blow me down
Leaving the Eyre Peninsula coast we follow the Flinders Highway north to pick up the Eyre Highway and turn east towards home. We beat into a South easterly wind that alternates from being on the nose to being slightly angled which gives the van a bit of a rolling feel. Woody is grumbling and complaining that he cut himself shucking an oyster and now can’t open beer bottles. Shucks. Continue reading Aw Shucks!
In Streaky Bay, El Prado and his missus Elle were doing a few chores and found themselves locked out of their van… again. This takes the tally to 3 times now (both locked in SA 2015, Elle locked in Qld 2016, both locked out SA 2018). Not a bad track record guys. Whilst ringing the RAA for assistance their neighbour comes over and with a grunt lifts the whole door up and voila it opens. The cause of the problem was a magnetic curtain strip that had caught in the door frame jamming it. The neighbour’s words of wisdom were … Continue reading Locking Up
All fueled up (with even less in the tank than last time, I might add) we drive to Port Pirie for what turns out to be a delicious lunch but now our indicators have stopped working. While Woody pops into an auto electrician a woman pulls up behind El Prado’s van and pulls out her camera. Instantly on the alert El Prado asks her what she is photographing “not you darl, the lovely old Cadillac over there” she says. Whoops, we city folk always think the worst of people. Continue reading Any Indication?
It’s a cool autumn morning and we have a dream run east from Kimba across to Port Augusta except for the fact that Woody said that he would fuel up in Iron Knob and guess what? There are no servos in Iron Knob, so once more we crawl along the Eyre Highway checking the DTE (Distance to Empty) versus Garmin and Google maps. With little more outside the car than saltbush to say that it’s nail biting is an understatement. To happen twice on one trip is ridiculous. Continue reading Running on empty 2
On our trip down the Eyre Peninsula we were planning on visiting Tumby Bay until Woody suddenly realises that we are low on fuel and this being Sunday it isn’t worth the risk leaving the highway (it’s sometimes easy to forget that not everyone has 24 hour trading). We press on grimly, calculating the car’s DTE, Distance To Empty versus the Kms to Arrival on the GPS. Of course, we’re punching into a head wind with the caravan on the back. I’m trying to keep our mates The Prado’s informed of our situation but can’t reach them on the CB … Continue reading Running on empty
Blogger mate Miriam over at Out n’About in her beautiful Valentine’s Day post suggested that we should lie in bed each morning and contemplate and be grateful for what we have. Sorry Miriam I disagree, I lie in bed and wonder which body part will fail today. When my shoulders ache too much from blog reading on the phone I tentatively drop both feet to the floor (my wise old aunt told me once that we should always put both feet to the floor in case one has stopped working in the night). All is well, both feet work. I … Continue reading Grateful
2015, somewhere near Cocklebiddy on the Nullarbor Plain Last night we had to operate on our toilet. It appears that the rough Fowlers Bay road dislodged the seal slightly causing it to smell like a urinal at the MCG, on Grand Final Day. Continue reading Mastering Chemical Toilets