Come on Girls, Give it a Go!

Words & Pictures by Fern & Steve Harding-Vertigan, T46321
August 2009

Caravan around Oz? You’ve got to be joking! “No, absolutely no way! Forget it! This girl does NOT caravan!”

That was my first horrified response to my husband’s suggestion. A clammy shudder ran down my back as I remembered childhood years spent on tedious, boring and crampedschool holiday trips in our old caravan. Weeks on end in isolated trout fishing locations, where the most exciting thing that ever happened was a six hour return trip to the nearest corner shop. Dearly though I love my husband Steve, no way was I doing that again!

Well girls, you all know how they look when they’re deprived of a treat…so we began researching the options. I was reluctant and unsure about the whole idea. We gradually worked out the priorities we needed in a vehicle. It’s different for each person. For us it looked like this:

• Definitely nothing small. I wanted space to storm off in a huff when we had a difference of opinion, and NO reminders of that cramped ‘van from hell’ I endured in my childhood. Also, I’m a big woman, and we luscious babes need a little room to breathe.

• Something easy to tow. Unfortunately, for health reasons, Steve had to stop driving some years ago, so I would be the only driver for this trip. This meant easier, safe towing was a priority.

• A separate vehicle for sightseeing, shopping etc. We wanted to be able to unhitch and drive away, so for us, the bus or motorhome idea wasn’t suitable.

• Something comfortable. Room to swing the proverbial cat (or at least a mouse), that we could settle into for a longish period of time.

• Space for our hobbies. Given the length of the trip we were planning, and the complete lack of anything decent to watch on TV most nights, we wanted to take the basics of our hobbies with us – photography and card making for Steve, jewellery making for me.

• Room for Stuff. You know what I mean - Stuff with a capital ‘S’. Things like the five foot metal bird who decided to adopt us early on, and has lived under our bed for the entire trip. Also, the abandoned toy wombat we found sobbing on the roadside near Wilson’s Promontory. Then there were all the shells, fossils, rocks, artworks and paintings we found it absolutely necessary to buy along the way. As I said, Stuff.

• Comfortable seating. Given the decrepit state of our backs, I couldn’t see us managing long term with just a dining setting.

• Our own shower and loo – need I say more?

We looked at all the usual options – caravans, buses, motorhomes, slide ons etc, but the fifth wheeler concept was by far the best for our needs. We loved the idea of the more stable towing hitch, the additional space of a larger vehicle, and the extra space provided by the slideout.

I won’t bore you with the purchase process, the nightmare of packing up our lives and house in Tassie (in just seven weeks!), and the stress of actually saying goodbye to our family and getting away. Nor will I say anything about the many, many times I wondered where that girl who does NOT caravan had gone.

We finally flew into Sydney with our suitcases, heading for our new (and totally empty) fifth wheeler, still lacking the minor technicality of a tow vehicle. That was finally resolved and Bluebelle, our F250, joined the team. My son still hasn’t forgiven us for giving her such a sweet girly name, and having a pink steering wheel cover (my choice!) It was sacrilege!

Then came the crunch. As the potential driver, I had looked at the size of the fifth wheeler with a wary eye before we bought it. My experience of towing anything, let alone a 31 foot van, was almost non-existent. Strangely, I remember being more worried about the height than the length. It was all a bit surreal, but if we were to do this trip at all, I just had to learn to do it. Well, now the moment had arrived, and Steve, Bluebelle, the fifth wheeler and I were about to embark on our trip.

Getting the hang of hitching up and unhitching, levelling the van and towing were skills we both acquired. Reversing took me a bit longer to learn, but we have been greatly impressed with how manoeuvrable fifth wheelers are. I can now turn and reverse our rig in an amazingly small area considering its size.

Driving a vehicle of this height and length has certainly changed my perspective on several things.

For a start, trees. As a pedestrian, I am a dyed in the wool tree hugger, and they have been a major part of our enjoyment during the whole trip. However, when I’m behind the wheel, they become the enemy! How dare they be growing where I need to reverse, or innocently think they will get away with low hanging branches. I’m definitely not hugging them then!

And truck drivers. Early on a discussion/altercation with a truck driver gave me valuable insight into what it’s like driving a REALLY big rig. In general, we found the interstate and trans-Australia drivers to be a great bunch, and we didn’t have many problems sharing the road with them. In fact we’ve had a few great encounters. Once, on the west coast, we were stuck for over a hundred kilometres behind a group of slow and very oversized escorted trucks. Chatting on the two-way, they tried to convince us they were towing starter gates for zebra races! Turned out to be machinery parts for the mines, but they did look as though they’d fit right in at Flemington Racecourse!

The short haul truckies sometimes seem to be a slightly different breed of pony, and we’ve had some ‘interesting’ moments sharing their roads. The whole experience has given us a greater understanding of the gigantic spider web that is Australian transport, the sheer size of the task of provisioning a country as vast as ours, and the magnificent job our truckies do in keeping the country supplied.

I have to include a word here about the attitude some people have towards a woman driver towing a large vehicle. It’s been, at times, humbling, frustrating, and often hilarious! Most people have been wonderful, supportive and only too willing to be an extra pair of eyes if needed for a tight reverse or turn. At times, we’ve had our van, Hilly (‘Over the Hill…and Loving It’ is written across the front), in some spots where we could have used a shoe horn to winkle us in and out.

Now, a bit of girl power here please ladies. There have however, been times when there have been gentlemen (?) who have had slightly different attitudes. It works like this… you creep into a roadside camp or caravan park and it’s pretty quiet, just one or two blokes cleaning their cars or setting up the fishing rods. Within moments, the antennas in the other vans twitch and that sixth sense all travellers have when there’s something new to see comes into play. Inside thirty seconds we have an audience of thousands (feels like it anyway). My palms begin to sweat, my mouth feels like the bottom of a cocky’s cage, and I mutter to Steve, “Let’s get it right FIRST time honey.”

Then they see I’m a woman. The audience triples in seconds. The women tend to congregate in groups, waiting and watching to see how we go. The blokes mostly react in two ways. The first mob stands back and mutters to each other, “She’ll never get it in THERE.” (Little do they know what a good lip reader I am!) The others, the helpful ones, also can’t believe we can do it ourselves, but instead of sniggering in the background, they rush forward, each intent on giving us instructions on how to do it.

Meanwhile, Steve and I have our game plan sorted out, and try to get on with the job at hand. Have you ever tried to get your rig parked while six men surround the car, ALL trying to tell you how to do it, and each with a different idea? “Right hand down”, “No, LEFT hand down”, “Right lock”, “Left lock”, “Steady as she goes”, “Watch that post”. On and on it goes. Poor Steve doesn’t stand a chance trying to direct me on the walkie talkie over that!

There are different rules for women too. If you’re a bloke, and you don’t get it in first try you’re just having a bad day, or it’s a rotten site to get into. “Never mind mate, have another go.” If you’re a woman driving or reversing a rig, and you don’t get it in first go, well, it’s just because you’re a woman driver.

Somehow we survived all their good intentions and had a wonderful three years wandering our way around Oz, enjoying all the benefits of our fifth wheeler. We’ve met wonderful folk, and generally had a ball. I’ve made it a bit of a mission to encourage more women to drive their vehicles. I’m shocked at how few do. Not only is there the safety angle to consider, should your partner become sick or injured, but the blokes would see so much more of this amazing country if the driving were shared. So come on girls, give it a go!

We’re often asked where our favourite place is. How do you choose one place over another? It’s impossible. A kaleidoscope of images flash through my mind whenever someone asks. The people, the places, the landscapes. The glorious palette of the outback.

We’ve experienced such diversity. How to choose between the magnificent scenery, the trees, the flowers and scents? The colours and texture of the red bulldust. Sunsets at Uluru. Rivers, cliffs, billabongs and oceans. Shells, fossils, Aboriginal art and beaches. The unbelievably abundant richness of the rainforests and coral reefs.

We’ve been entranced by our encounters with the fauna of this amazing land. Whales, dolphins, geckos, bats, manta rays and wild horses. Roos, brolgas, koalas, wombats, turtles, cassowaries, emus, and so many more.

We’ve met people from every continent on the planet, and local Aussies living in areas ranging from tropical rainforests, to tiny country villages and vast outback stations. We’ve relished home-grown music, incredible local artwork, fossicking, and great times with new friends.

And over, around and under it all, the ancient presence of the Australian landscape, infinitely varying, always awe inspiring. How could we choose a favourite?

I know Steve and I have been fundamentally changed by the experiences of the past three years.

Throughout it all, our rig has been home. Bluebelle has driven us faithfully through the ever-changing scenery, over roads that varied from super highways to goat tracks, and Hilly has been a constant, comfortable, spacious, welcoming and (usually!) peaceful base for our adventures. The fifth wheeler type of van has been fantastic for us. We’re sold on the more stable towing and manoeuvrability, and the additional space has been wonderful.

So, for a girl who doesn’t caravan, I haven’t done too badly. We’ve been away three years, with several flights home to greet new grandchildren and spend time with family and friends.

Sadly, it’s time now to sell the rig, hang up our thongs and head home to the cooler, pristine beauty of Tasmania. I wonder how we will feel waking up in the same place each day? I don’t know. But one thing I’m sure of - our next RV will definitely be another fifth wheeler!