Highlights of our First Year as Grey Nomads

The Very Beginning
The First Adventure
Itchy Feet Again
Still Getting Ready
Our First Rally:- Townsville
Onwards
August 1999
December 1999
January 2000

The Very Beginning! - December 1998

There seems to come a time in most of our lives when, as Rumpole of the Bailey would say, "she who must be obeyed" must be obeyed.

Such a time has arrived for me. Although I must hasten to point out that my compliance is with the greatest of pleasure. "For years" she said, "we have talked about taking the time to really see Australia and if we don't do it now we will most probably be too decrepit."

This is true! Our children are all grown, married and raising their own families; we no longer have a mortgage; I have no job and we have sold our stressful little business and some disrespectful people say that I am now too old. Of course this last claim is mostly just "poppy cock". I always said that I will never retire because there is still too much to do.

However, I do find the "start again" syndrome more daunting than I had expected. Maybe nearly fifty years of work and effort does take a toll and generate a modified view of the future.

Apart from being a bit on the roly-poly side, we are both in good general health, but those sometimes stiff knees and joints are probably a warning of things to come.

Damn it! As usual, my dear wife is right. We should do "it" now, before fate decrees that we can't and we will then join the myriad of people who continually lament - "I wish I had".

So - the initial decision is made. Judy and I are going to take to the road and see Australia.

Four children, their spouses and a bevy of only just intelligent grandchildren all say "go for it", retirement is what you need. However, I know that only elderly people actually retire - so I think I will take long service leave. That decision makes me feel a whole lot better.

Now that we have made this momentous move, we have to consider some of the real issues - so let's start with the mode of travel.

If we are going to abandon kith, kin and home for one or two years, we should at least plan to travel at four star level. After all, home certainly is not uncomfortable and we are not pioneers or heroes.

For many years we traipsed around NSW dragging a huge caravan and our considerable brood. Lots of wonderful experiences, lots of great sight seeing, but also a fair amount of lifting and push-and-shove which I must admit was easier twenty odd years ago. I am more than a little uneasy about handling the size of rig which I am sure we would need to use to supply our customary creature comforts.

I toured the caravan yards, attended the shows and concluded that about twenty to twenty two feet will be our minimum. This plus the appropriate towing vehicle was adding up to a lot of dollars, as well as a lot of tonnes and started to smell of a lot of sweat and strain. I began to get nervous.

However, I also began to look at the motorhomes, although in our caravanning days we paid scant attention to these rather rare and odd machines. More and more I became aware of the features that they offered. The usual inclusion of onboard shower and toilet, 240 volt power from solar, inverter or generator, the capacity for water carriage, as well as the elimination of the hitching and unhitching process were all attractive to me - and certainly to that better half of mine.

So, we set out on the search for the "ideal" motorhome with the firm conviction that we could achieve everything we needed within the scope of a twenty to twenty five footer.

This process was going quite well - locating a unit, listening to a glowing description of its condition, facilities and abilities, then travelling to inspect and usually being disappointed at the product in the flesh. You know - sometimes too old, or too decrepit, or too knocked about, or sometimes just too far away.

Then success! A unit that was as clean as a whistle, low kilometres, beautifully fitted out and as Judy said "this one has been loved". Just a couple of snags though; we had not planned on being thirty three feet long or spending nearly so much money.

However, sanity prevailed - we negotiated a slightly lower price and bought it. Perhaps that was not sanity that prevailed, but we did it anyway. After all this was to be our new home and didn't we deserve the best?

I have nearly always been able to rationalise extraordinary things I have done and this time Judy was a willing party - that in itself augers well for a happy and successful adventure.

Along the way I met or spoke at length to numerous people working in the camperhome / motorhome industry who were refreshing in their attitudes and business approach. Executives who are keen to promote the industry for the benefit of all as well as to prove the superiority of the products of which they are justly proud. To sell your own product's advantages without lambasting the worthy opposition is the expression of a philosophy which will enlarge the popularity of motorhoming and the industry at large.

All this activity culminated in early December 98 and Judy and I felt that we would be advised to become familiar with our beautiful Classic before inflicting ourselves on too many club members at a formal rally.

Our First Adventure - Feb 99 (from The Wanderer May,1999)

Having taken delivery of our almost new and very beautiful, pre loved motorhome, it seemed prudent to have everything checked out. The Cummins motor at Pendle Hill, the Allison transmission at Moorebank, the gas installation at North Rocks and back to Winnebago for steering and alignment. All this interspersed with many conversations and several visits to Winnebago's maintenance manager. I discovered that what Sarda doesn't know, John Tynan does.

We had the extreme good fortune to have a Club executive put us in touch with a member, Roy Watson, an owner of a unit like ours and a retired motor engineer. He has a depth of analytical and mechanical knowledge that must be almost unique and a generous willingness to impart his knowhow and to help in many ways. We have since discovered that his reputation in the Sydney Wanderers is legendary and his help is sought and received by many members.

This new arena of motorhoming is made so much more pleasant by the "Roys", who are always ready to help and advise with the benefit of their experience. New members should not hesitate to ask - and they will surely receive.

Our first trip began with the vague notion of "going to Queensland", with the first stop at Umina, where I had read of an award winning C P.

We left home after lunch on a Sunday afternoon and blithely headed up the Pacific Highway towards the freeway north.

It was then I discovered the real extent of my eight foot width, the terror of height and the "lean over" factor, the closeness of signs, trees and telegraph poles, not to mention the narrowness of marked lanes, the apathy of motorists and the menace of occasional trucks.

By the time we turned onto the freeway at Wahroonga I was feeling stressed and sweaty - the mother of my children was pale and unusually quiet, her expression read " why are we doing this at our age?". We pulled off at Mt White for a cup of tea. All I could think was - "and this was supposed to be relaxation and fun". Mrs Supportive said, "you'll get used to it, you always do".

Then down the Old Woy Woy Road to Easts Ocean Beach Caravan Park. As we progressed down the narrow and winding road, I began to marvel at the effectiveness of power steering, airbag suspension and exhaust brakes. This beautifully balanced and controllable vehicle reminded me of my earlier truck owning days - it was all so different from the seven ton Morris truck that I had owned and driven when I was just a young whelp back in the mid fifties. Then we were pleased to have a diesel motor (sluggish as a damp squid ) and hydraulic brakes. I don't think that the heavy steering was sold as an extra feature, but you almost had to be Don Athaldo to handle the monster.

Now I am feeling more confident and I don't think I will let Judy put that "driver under instruction" sign on our rear bumper, even though she continues to keep me well appraised of every possible unpleasant circumstance which might befall us or be lurking around the next corner.

Ocean Beach C P is absolutely delightful. Our site was on a mown grassy patch not more than fifty yards from the beach and looking straight out Barrenjoey Heads. Just magical! The beach is clean and provides a brisk forty minute walk each way and the swimming is sheltered and warm.

The Park itself deserves a full accolade. The amenities are modern and spotless, the facilities and pool area are worthy of any five star resort and the grounds are landscaped, mown and scrupulously clean and tidy. We stayed four days and will return sometime later.

Then we headed for Taree and now I am relaxed and comfortable. The road is tops and our new "weekend home" is purring along whilst the sun shines and the countryside is lush and green. The whole journey is just like driving through a botanical garden.

On the advice of a friendly ambulance driver, we overnight at the Rotary Park just north of Taree. This allows us to park in a shaded area, well off the highway and surrounded by trees which edge several green playing fields. There are ample well maintained toilet and picnic facilities.

At lunch we found a rest area just north of Nambucca Heads. On the right side of the highway, this area is up high and provides a panoramic view back over the landscape, the bay and the ocean.

We fell into conversation with an English couple who came to travel Australia, stayed and settled in Nambucca and like to drive up to this spot on fine days for a picnic. They have bought a caravan and will keep travelling regularly. Already we are meeting interesting and informative fellow travellers.

That night found us at Kempsey Bicentennial Park and in the company of three or four fellow motorhomers. The most intriguing of them is Derek, who travels alone with his blue cattle dog, Jesse.

As Roy Watson knows motorhomes and mechanics, Derek knows rest areas and free camps. His encyclopaedic knowledge of the subject is amazing. After ten years on the road and possessing an excellent memory, Derek can comment on where to stop, and where not to stop, across the length and breadth of the country - all states and territories. His dissertations could fill a book, and one day they may.

He also cooks with a camp oven over a pot bellied stove. The leg of lamb simmering while we talked was enough to make your mouth water. We guess that Derek is a modern day motorised "swaggie".

He is the first, and so far the only, club member we have encountered who has actually used the Club's insurance towing service. He broke down in the outback and found the service to be first rate.

This park is sign posted for twelve hour stopovers. The locals told us that our Club had been largely instrumental in achieving that status. Well done!

We drifted on to the Gold Coast and Southport, where we stayed in a fairly uninspiring C P. However, another Derek approached us as fellow club members. This personable "new friend" was from Perth and had been travelling for nine months as he made his way around the country with his wife and daughter.

As time has passed, we are more and more delighted to encounter many such charming and friendly people on the "motorhome trail".

Alas time ran out and we turned south for home and the end of our first adventure into the realm of our new lifestyle.

Itchy Feet Again- end March '99 (from The Wanderer - June, 1999)

Last Christmas Judy and I had thought and planned that it would take us at least two months to be able to leave home, kith and kin etc and travel off into the great blue yonder for our indefinite trip.

Three months later we seem to be only about one month off being ready. The intervening months have been furiously busy. Firstly, there are the "things" that have to be done to the motorhome. Secondly, there are the things that have to be done to our home so that it will be safe and loved while we are away. But thirdly, there has been the irresistible urge to travel.

Apart from our January jaunt to south east Queensland, we have been away on four more escapades taking up over six weeks - that's nearly eight weeks so far this year out of twelve. No wonder we are running behind our original "schedule".

What great travels we have had.

Our first CMCA Sydney Wanderers meeting at Swansea was an extraordinarily enjoyable experience and eye opener. Nearly seventy motorhomes, all crewed by people - mostly retired - intent on enjoying their time, their country's beauty, their "rigs" and one another's company. Games, chit-chat, but mostly good old fashioned companionship were the order of the day.

Retirees and elder statesmen ( sorry statespeople ) were the predominant group. Glancing around the assemblage in the tent for the Saturday nights entertainment, I could not help but think that this was a group who might well be described as making up the waiting room for decrepidation - but doing it with real enjoyment and verve. How different to those good folk who are just sitting at home with no objective outlook.

Even the most private and reclusive motorhomers should make it their business to experience the bon-vivant of their fellow travellers by attending a chapter meeting or two. Apart from the sheer enjoyment of the occasion, there is the wealth of knowledge which is shared with unstinting generosity.

By this time we are becoming imbued by the practical need for some form of radio communication, particularly when we eventually move out of civilisation into the proverbial "outback". The options range from regular CB radio to satellite phone - and from small money to very big money. The notion that the first expenditure in buying the motorhome was the last is fast being destroyed.

Our inquiries lead us to the HF Radio Club who just happen to be having a meeting at Paterson in February. Good! Another excuse - so off we go again.

This time we are in company with a more nomadic group. They are convinced of the validity and common sense of installing long range HF radio. Now we are too. The HF Club has a motto - Safety First and then Friendship - and they mean it. This was another great weekend in free and easy companionship and life is truly good. (see the Communications page)

By now our wanderlust is conquering our nagging practical selves and we don't want to come home to "get ready to go". So we just carry on.

Gloucester, Copeton, Stroud, Maitland and Morpeth all fall within the range of our drive home. Wonderful spots to stay everywhere, like Silo Hill at Stroud, the gold mine at Copeton, the boat ramp park at beautiful Morpeth, not to mention Elizabeth Beach near Forster.

Home for a week or so of furious and strenuous preparation - we will never get away.

Temptation again and Satan will not get behind, so off we go again.

This time we travel south to Shoalhaven Heads and overnight right on Seven Mile Beach, then a long run to Genoa, just in Victoria, and the Wallagaraugh River Retreat to rendezvous with two of our oldest and dearest friends and another couple who also have the retirees "grey nomad" bug. In fact their vehicle is affectionately called "The Grey Power". Not a bad name for a distinguished coaster conversion.

This is a real bush retreat on the banks of the river and even without the exceptional company it would have been idyllic.

After a couple of days of this paradise, we once again set off for home. That is, we pointed north. Well - west and north. Sort of!

Bega to Bombala to Nimmitabel to Cooma to Michelago to Goulbourn and Bowral. This is territory I have worked in and roamed for twenty five years, but now we are actually looking at it. Uninitiated people can ask "what do you do"? We can only answer "we need more time"!

Every town has its features; every town either has a "hill" or a "river park". The craft shops vary from area to area, the people are always helpful, friendly and have time for a chat. It's real easy to take five or six days to travel from Bega to Sydney and even easier to lose delightful time walking beaches and bush.

When we finally move further afield, we may be gone forever. I am fast understanding the likes of Ray and Peg, left home for a trip and haven't been back for ten years, or the couple in "Matilda", who have not yet stopped after two years on the road. Life is good and getting better!

After a few days back at "home", we need to shove off again. The Sydney Wanderers are having an Easter meeting at Wallacia. ( For the benefit of the out-of-Sydney-towners, that is only about seventy k's west. )

Another fine weekend, although the weather was more than a bit on the blink. The entertainment in the form of an Easter Parade and a "beauty" competition made for an hilarious evening. The days just fly by and the meetings seem to come to an end before you can turn around.

This time we go north west through Mudgee to the historic gold mining town of Gulgong. Here the "hill" is aptly called Flirtation Hill. Then we moved on to Sofala, another ex-gold town, but very quaint in its decaying but still existing state. From there to Hill End ( the hill is called Bald Hill ), which is controlled and maintained by the National Parks and Wildlife Service. That means that the government has spent some money and the town is becoming a living and breathing monument to the past.

After a delicious draught beer and a luscious steak in the village we head for the Hill to spend the night. The track is well maintained dirt and winds its way through quite dense eucalypt forest with the trees close to the track and the branches forming a shroud overhead.

As we reach the summit we disturb a large mob of kangaroos grazing in the light mist and with the moon casting a faint blue glow. They appeared to be dancing as we approached and Judy swears they were performing a scene from Swan Lake.

After a night of tranquil peace, the morning presented a three hundred and sixty degree vista. We could have been on top of the world,

What do we do? Just more of the same, please!

Our only complaint is that we needed more time at every stopover. The countryside is all lush and green and we are at peace with the world.

But we have to come home to keep some commitments. Damn!

So far during our period of preparation, we have travelled nearly seven thousand kilometres up and down NSW, mostly on the coast, seen picturesque sites, views and wildlife, spent time in compatible company and enjoyed ourselves immensely. We haven't yet felt the need to use CPs, just enjoyed hills, parks and beaches. What a country and what a way to see and appreciate it!

If all goes well and we can control our itchy feet, we will leave at the end of April to start making our way to Townsville. But then, there is another meeting of the HF Radio Club at Booral soon. Soooo!


Still Getting Ready - 5th May, 1999 (from The Wanderer - July, 1999)

The life of the motorhomer is not necessarily all "beer and skittles".

For instance, we had a puncture in the rain. Who needs to have their first puncture in the rain. Oh golly! How I wished I had gone to the trouble of using the jacks, testing the tyre removing lever, understanding the difficulty of the "too short" wheel wrench lever. This lack of forethought resulted in much cursing and frustration. I'd forgotten the boy scouts motto, "be prepared".

Then at Hill End we gouged the wall of another tyre and had to have it changed in Mudgee. A nice bloke at Beaurepaires, but I don't think he wants to see us again in a hurry. Although five bucks for a beer probably salved his wounds.

As for me - I am having the tyres "puncture proofed", practising using the hydraulics as a jack and having an extra bracket fitted to the spare wheel lowering mechanism.

I am also going to buy Judy a great "Mother's Day" present. An air hose and an impact wrench to fit the wheel nuts. She should be thrilled, just what she always wanted.

There are a few inherent problems too; some to do with the motorhome itself and some to do with ancillary affairs, such as security and communications, and auxiliary transport.

Firstly, the motorhome itself. Never have so many mechanical "experts" held themselves out as competent motorhome aficionados for the benefit of so few recipients! This is a field where idiots abound and "couldn't care less" is often the credo.

We do not ask much. Just some one who will competently service the engine, grease the chassis, check the air system and brakes, do a wheel alignment, or rectify a small oil leak in the power steering. None of this seems too much to ask.

Oh yeah! "To each his own" seems to be the mechanical industry motto when it comes to dealing with motorhomes. The resulting time and frustration we, as owners, must suffer leads me to conclude that we should establish a national directory of businesses who we know want and appreciate our business.

I am already sick of being told by the engine people that "we can't fix an oil leak in the power steering pump", or the auto electrician who "doesn't know anything about solar panels", or the manufacturer who "can't help with air conditioning". I don't know about the rest of you, but I would like a schedule of maintenance companies who want and respect my business.

I will start by nominating some around Sydney -

- DTM Engineering for general mechanical services (including brakes and steering etc.). Helpful, efficient and no-nonsense.

- I & D Industries for body repairs, extra cupboards or general alterations (they will even build total bodies or refits of older ones). Knows campers & motorhomes inside out and readily applies that knowledge. "A1".

- Truck Align, at Narellan, for competent wheel alignments, balancing and air bag adjustments etc. All roads & recommendations lead to here.

- Electrical, air conditioning or radio - no one yet.

- Formula, Off Road are terrific for bull bars, brackets, under vehicle protection, custom antennas etc. Just got to it and did the job.

- Hi Way Sun Visors are straight and true for visors and stone guards etc.


This "need for service" was undoubtedly one of the major factors which lead a group of "nomads" to form the HF Radio Club. (see the Communications page)

Judy and I were considering the ramifications of our plans to travel in the "outback". Without gilding the lily, we have to recognise that we are no longer spring chickens and we would both be incapable of lifting or carrying the other in the event of some horrible (or perhaps quite simple ) mishap. So we started to look at the advisability of reliable communication.

As I said in an earlier article, we decided after several sojourns at HF Radio Club gatherings that we would invest in an HF Radio.

Our reasons are simple -

- The HF Radio has a range of approximately 4,000 kms & comes with all the Royal Flying Doctor bases, Radio Telephone, ABC Radio, AM Radio and weather channels which broadcast throughout the day.

- The RFDS ( Flying Doctor ) provides a security blanket against mishap or medical emergency in all areas, when other channels or bases cannot be contacted.

- Radphone provides the ability to keep in touch - by phone - with family and friends at home.
You are in constant contact with other HF Radio users throughout the length and breadth of the country.

The decision is made and the equipment is ordered through the Club's preferred supplier and then duly arrives.

Then comes "the installation"!

Judy, "the decider", says, "you aren't going to put that big thing in front of my windscreen"; the best advice from the seasoned users is, "for a snub nosed vehicle like yours, it will perform much better if the antenna is mounted at the rear". The nominated installer says, "if you want it at the back - it's too hard and I can't do it".

The next installer says, as he strokes his chin gleefully, "the bracket at the rear will cost a fortune and the installation will take two days". My heart sinks after two more "I can'ts, except at a huge cost".

Then Bruce Binns, of Winnebago, recommended Formula Off Road, at St Marys. So I packed lunch and a thermos flask and off I went.

Success! John and Arthur look at the situation (not the problem) and say "it weighs five kilos and vibrates a lot. So we will come off the roof rack and let it take most of the weight, then brace it through the body frame below the rear window. OK?" "OK " says I, and three hours later I leave with a handsome bracket, which looks robust enough to be used to pull me out of a bog. A great job - they never once said "can't" and didn't charge more than a fair thing.

Now we have an HF Radio, with a call sign of ABX48 and a Selcall Number of 8146. Give us a call sometime!

Incidentally, Judy complained to Bruce Binns at the Camping and Motorhome show that the plush seat edge of the dinette kept "bruising her bum". He is a true gentleman and at the next opportunity had his workshop recut and recover the offending seat edge, thus saving Judy from the possibility of permanent damage. Thanks Bruce, every little bit more comfort for my beloved makes my life just that little bit better.

That brings me to the question of auxiliary transport.

On one of our earlier forays I decided that we should take bicycles. So I borrowed two beaut bikes from an adult child and a rack to carry them at the back. It looked great and very businesslike.

So on a beautiful Sunday morning at Paterson Sports Ground, I take down the "auxiliary transport" and prepare to have us take a nice healthy ride. Mum took one look and said "are you crazy? I'm more like sixty than sixteen and don't intend to cripple myself on one of those things".

Undeterred, I prepare to mount, but alas I have a totally flat tyre. No problem, I have a pump. Which, of course will not pump, but which does succeed in totally taking my wind.

Oh well! I really wanted a long walk in the fresh air anyway.

Next I looked at motorised bikes, but quickly discarded that thought on the basis of both cost and our physical impracticality. They look good, though!

Now we came to think of a car - and decided that the only answer was to sell mine and buy a small 4X4 for towing.

This raised two pertinent questions -

- Which car?
- Which towing gear?

Which car?
I did the first reconnoitre of the smallest, which covered Suzuki Jimny, Daihatsu Terios, Kia Sportage. Judy specified that it had to be automatic, I insisted that it have a low range gear box.

Only Jimny measured up in both departments. But I am a big fellow and felt that rather than "get into" such a small car, I was "putting it on like a glove". Not a comfortable feeling for me.

So to the next generation.
Toyota Rav4, Subaru Forrester, Honda HRV, Land Rover Freelander, Jeep Wrangler and Suzuki Grand Vitara.

Only the Vitara comes in auto with a transfer case to a lower range and is still a reasonable weight, so it won - hands down. It also offers a V6 engine, is quite pretty and we have now discovered it handles rough dirt roads with competence and comfort. We are well satisfied. For a bloke who always has had a big car, it's a good compromise.

Now, the "how to tow" saga is well under way but not yet resolved. I imagine that it will be before we leave for Townsville and I will keep you advised next month.

We hope to see lots of travelling comrades on the way up north. We will leave Sydney on 15th (after Judy has her Mother's Day presents) and will look for "the newlyweds', for Derek & Jesse and lots of others. Our phone (0418 221 023) will probably work most of the way, our HF will be scanning 51 through 55 and we will always join a free camp.

We might even find ourselves in a CP one night. You never can tell.

Our First Rally:- Townsville - end June 99. (from The Wanderer - August, 1999)

The birth of a baby can be an unpredictable event and the arrival of our ninth grand child was no exception.

Our plan to leave for Townsville and the north was delayed until the blessed event was over. After a plethora of boy babies, Judy has been desperate for a "pink" one - and it was, so the delay was more than worth it. Excited happy grandmothers make delightful wives and travelling companions.

We had resolved the towing dilemma by deciding to use an approved "A" Frame. At least approved in most states and in the process in the others. Winnebago have retained a Consulting Engineer to usher the process through each state authority. When the overall approvals are in place, the whole motorhome industry will owe them a debt.

So we eventually leave with a comfortable ten days to reach Townsville. The way we have learned to travel, that is almost an impossibility. Not because of the distances involved, but rather because of the interruptions and wayside stops that now are an everyday feature of our travelling. We have just about forgotten that we used to travel from point to point as quickly as possible.

We cancelled four or five planned overnight stops and set out. Driving north I am amazed at the almost negligible effect of my beaut little Vitara sitting behind our vehicle. Once I learned to allow for it on sharp bends and mastered the occasional "backing up", it is no trouble. The answer to backing up is to have Judy sit in the car and hold the steering wheel steady.

Our first "master stop" on the way up was outside Ballina, where we were delighted to again come across our old and knowledgeable mate, Derek, still on the road after ten years with his faithful dog, Jesse. He is still the font of all diesel price and "freebie" rest stop information. He is pretty accurate, too!

We visited an old young friend in Surfers and an old old friend in Brisbane. Then on to Noosa, where I took a wrong turn in the dark and wound up at the beginning of Hastings Street in the dark - that gave rise to some interesting manoeuvring. ( A tip to beginners - make sure your vehicle has a darned good lock like the Classic.)

After Judy had cased all the shops in Noosa, we moved on to the next delight, and that was Yeppoon. Not only is the whole atmosphere exciting, the waterfront runs for miles around Kepple Bay and Yeppoon. We spent the night on the breathtaking promenade and in the morning we were approached by several local CMCA members who treated us to some good old fashioned hospitality at their home. A brief look at the resort, which is certainly up to any world standard and we were delighted to find it in full swing when we recalled the terrible and traumatic start it had had.

Gladstone had appeared to us to be just another industrial city, Rockhampton struck us with its beauty, cleanliness, well tended public gardens and general feeling of prosperity. Of course, all the countryside was green, lush and lovely.

Next stop Mackay. A proud feeling city with great natural features and an obvious degree of civic pride. It strikes us that the area we have traversed in Queensland so far is so much more cared for than we are used to. Every town and city has lush gardens and well mown lawns and nature strips, clean streets and painted facades. An overall feeling of caring pervades. Queenslanders are "mowing mad".

Mackay to Townsville is lush and green all the way. We had stopped over at Airlie Beach, again on the waterfront. We had a fabulous cup of coffee (literally) in one of the town's best restaurants with a delightful couple from NZ and, after only a very short time, we are sure that we have formed a life long friendship. That night we were confronted at about eleven o'clock and told to move. That was our first experience and we talked our way out of it with having to tell only the smallest of little white lies.

We arrived at Townsville on the Tuesday before the Rally actually began, barged into the showground, were ushered to our site and settled in. To our amazement ( and, I suspect, to the amazement of the Rally organisers ) there were already some three hundred motorhomes on site and there was generally a feeling of excitement pervading the whole group. Before the official start, the number had grown to over 750 campers and motorhomes.

During this week I decided that I should cook an evening meal, after all I am a passable cook. I was totally chagrined when I asked Judy how she enjoyed it. "I thought the fish was a bit dry and tough" she said. Imagine how I felt - I had cooked chicken breast schnitzels.

We found this, our first rally, to be absolutely incredible. Many of the people we had so far met in our travels were there and there were many very pleasant reunions. But the new people nearly all just pretended that everyone knew everyone else and there were no obvious strangers, just friends.

There was every shape and kind of vehicle one could imagine; Coaster conversions by the score, Nissan, Hino and Mazda buses of different models and dimensions. There were many Winnebagos and a sprinkling of Swagmans while restyled large buses and "built-ups" added a great dimension of interest and intrigue.

I found myself sticky beaking at many of the more interesting units - for instance there were ten Classics and two Australian Dreams plus heaps of less bulky vehicles from both manufacturers.


I began to grade the others and this is what I came up with --
The most absolutely fabulous -- "Aussie Eagle" -- Alan and Robyn centre stage and deserved it! Began life as a Pioneer cruiser.
The most commodious "Spirit" -- Doug and Lyn - two storeys of comfort and class! Perfect rebuild of a double deck tourist coach.
The most character "Formerly" -- Helen and Robert - centre of attention! Used to be Fire Wagon No3 at Caboolture.
Runners up "Gunnadoo" -- Charlie and Dawn - a spectacular combination of custom built motorhome and matching trailer cum garage cum workshop.
"Detroit" -- Ron and Heather - an immaculate rebuilt mobile library.
Un named pop top - Carol & Adrian - engineered on a 4 wheel drive, 3 axle chassis.

While the interest in the campervans and motorhomes was intense, the line up of entertainment was nothing short of incredible. It could almost be said that the weakest acts were the professionals.

Every afternoon and every night we were subjected to a veritable feast of talent. Some of it from within Townsville, but predominantly from within the ranks of the attendees. For instance, the amateur night produced almost twenty acts and nearly all of them could have carried a full concert on their own.

Then there was the jazz group. They assembled for a jam session and then were coerced to play at every opportunity. Never have so many been so beautifully entertained by so few.

One night after the entertainment was over, Judy decided to take an impromptu and unrehearsed ride on Angela Gnapp's motorised bicycle. As we all watched horrified, she wobbled and shook from side to side as she negotiated among the throng of pedestrians walking the street, scattering them in all directions. The inevitable result was a near crash into a group who had the presence of mind to grab both bike and rider and hold them until her panting pursuers (us) arrived on the scene. Explanation - "I just felt like it!" What do you do with a sixty something year old kid?

There were also many technical presentations and each that I attended was pertinent to the subject and of great interest.

Everyone should be congratulated; organisers, entertainers, presenters and attendees.

We will all need a rest after this Rally.

Onwards - 22nd July,1999.(from The Wanderer - September, 1999)

Anniversaries are always times to be remarked and remembered. Last week we passed the first two months of our life on the road and this is the sixth episode of our "tale". It scarcely seems any time at all since the work-a-day life style slid into the past.

The several trips we made from Sydney in the first part of the year, whilst amounting to over twelve thousand kilometres, did not keep us on the road for more than a fortnight at a time. They provided great training for the "real" thing. This trip has begun to help us to understand how so many of our new acquaintances are able to adopt "motorhoming" as a permanent lifestyle.

We are not yet prepared to enter into total commitment, but we have developed a general plan which goes forward as far as the end of next year. If we follow the pattern of many of the genuine Highway Wanderers we may find that our, as yet still un-named, motorhome may truly become our permanent address.

On the subject of names, one encounters a huge breadth of imagination in the naming of campers and motorhomes - like "Vamoose", "Me-and-er", "Gunnadoo", etc. I think the cleverest play on words could well be "Winnegogo", owned by young Kevin and Cath Gould, from up Gosford way.

After the excitement of Townsville, we broke with logic and frogged hopped to Port Douglas and stayed for a while in the family owned Glengarry Caravan Park. We were not alone, as several southern chapter groups came and went while we were there. It is highly recommended.

The drive to Port D is absolutely the most spectacular coastal drive I have ever been on, with breathtaking vistas of coastal cliffs and beaches. This drive could easily be the subject of a documentary in its own right.

The district of P D is surely unique in Australia, with its myriad resort and tourist attractions, particularly the chain of golf courses. Sadly, we felt that there was a very real dearth of tourists and it is hard to conceive how the area can replace the marked absence of the Japanese tourists, for which it has been largely developed.

However, we had no difficulty in being enthralled by the natural attractions, such as The Daintree River (complete with lounging crocodiles ) and the wonderful rain forests.

On the return journey, which we made in congenial company, we free camped, as we usually do, on a beach. Whilst this is a magnificent natural spectacle, we were invited to "happy hour" at the local surf club. This event turned out to be a "buck's party" for one of the local lads and was climaxed by the extraordinarily athletic and imaginative performance of a quite good looking strip tease dancer. Geoff Gnapp and I hope that his Angela and my Judy were paying attention, although I suspect they kept looking the other way, until they could coax us away.

We were part of the migratory group who moved to the Cairns Showground for a week or so, but first we spent some time in the magnificent Coconut Resort Caravan Park south of Cairns. This became the fourth C P we have stopped at since our adventures began and three of the four have been excellent.

The Cairns contingent seemed to be about a hundred and seventy five sites and was a free flowing gathering with no apparent objective other than companionship and good fellowship. It worked!

Now became a period of quiet travel and beautiful places. The most outstanding for us was Fong On Bay on Lake Tineroo. If there is a bit of the Garden of Eden left, this has to be it. Surrounded by natural forest and timber plantations, one could be anywhere in the world - the Alps in Europe or maybe Canadian Rockies. Just spectacular scenery and waterfront camping.

Judy managed to endear herself to an elderly (even compared to us) couple who were ensconced on the foreshores with all the necessary equipment for fishing etc. and so we were able to relish the delights of freshly caught "red claw", a yabby like shell fish about eight inches long with a flavour not unlike Moreton Bay or Balmain bugs.

One fine morning we were joined by Ron Warden, of Australian Motorhomes in Bennett's Green NSW, and his delightful family. They were picnicking across the water and jet ski-ing on the placid lake, saw our motorhomes and came to investigate. Ron was pleased to see one of his customers (us) getting so much enjoyment out of his vehicle. Before you could say "Jack Robinson", Judy was on the back of a ski with Ron and burning around like a two year old. Geoff and Angela were still with us and they also got into the spirit of things, even though they own a Swagman and Ron sells Winnebagos by the cart load. I hope the Wardens enjoyed the day as much as we did. It was just one of those unexpected impromptu things that sometimes happen.

Ron says that sales of new and used vehicles are so strong as to indicate a fast expansion in the motorhome industry. This is, of course, also borne out by the continuing monthly increase in CMCA membership.

Christmas in July, at Mareeba, became another delightful weekend experience. The people of the town made us feel welcome and the actual night at the local Leagues Club was just huge fun, helped in no small part by our own illustrious jazz group from Townsville which had now grown to six members, but still revolving around Lance MacGuire, on the banjo, with Barrie and his talented wife Deb ( I think ) providing tremendous brass. I just love it!

If I write these notes as a travelogue, I will need the whole mag each month, because there is so much to see and experience. But then, Judy and I are only beginners and many of you have discovered the joys, experienced the occasional difficulty and seen many of the sights over many years. We'll catch up in time!

Mareeba Rodeo Club made the rodeo grounds available for those who wanted to stay around and once again a migratory force moved there. After a few days we left to thoroughly explore the Atherton Tablelands and then to return for the rodeo, which is the second largest in Queensland and probably therefore in Australia.

The Atherton Tablelands is magic. Lush and picturesque hills and dales with quaint and thriving little towns, numerous waterfalls, rainforest features, extraordinary old timber, markets galore and generally good roads. The naturally warm people are interesting and interested in encouraging the "motorhome phenomenon" to pay more attention to their area and to add to their local economy.

During this time there was an unfortunate incident in which a group of motorhomers was stoned one night at Tolga. A nasty occurrence which did no credit to the village and resulted in alleged blame being sheeted onto the nearby caravan park. The way the news spread, you can be assured that Tolga suffered a severe loss of attention from the CMCA members who were, and are still, prowling the Atherton area. Our Club is now strong enough to be recognised as a beneficial force wherever we congregate, as evidenced by this cartoon from the Townsville paper.

There is an apparent and continuing gripe from some CP proprietors that CMCA members like to be "free" spirits. It is a pity that the CP owners don't concentrate on providing the facilities that we need at a reasonable price - such as security, water and maybe power - instead of whingeing and whining that we don't use the facilities that they provide, which most of us don't need.

I was always taught that the way to succeed in business was to firstly identify a "need for a potential customer" and then to offer a better service than the bloke next door, just like the proverbial "butcher, baker and candlestick maker".

I also don't understand how authorities can insist that self contained and independent travellers can be expected to book into caravan parks or motels, that they don't need, any more than vegetarians can be forced to deal with butchers or atheists forced to go to church. A free country, or the avariciousness of another minority group.

We have encountered many instances of CP owners going out of their way to promote their business and, in the main, they don't seem to either be empty or complaining.

On the way back to the Mareeba Rodeo, we were in the company of a delightful couple we shall call Victoria and Albert when they mentioned that their uncle Aldo was always with them. We had never seen or met Uncle Aldo and were greatly intrigued that he could be kept so closely under wraps, after all they had a small dog, appropriately named "threepenny bit", and every one knew it, sometimes only too well. ( He one day piddled on my stockinged foot .)

As the topic developed, it was revealed that Uncle travelled in the front electrical junction box - or at least his ashes did. Our friends felt an obligation to the dear departed fellow who had been Albert's only relative and had been somewhat of a recluse, so he had been carting his remains around the country with him for the last five years as a sort of posthumous gesture of family feeling and companionship. One might call it "a very prolonged wake". "One day" he said, "I'll distribute him in a nice valley. But in the meantime, he is seeing more of the country than when he was alive and I sought of feel good about it."

Judy and I hope that Uncle Aldo enjoyed the Rodeo. We did, but I doubt that we will become camp followers or anything like that.

As I write this, the Rodeo is well and truly over and the majority of our colleagues have gone.

We would be too, but we have managed to totally flatten all our seven batteries, due directly to the inept donkey who messed up the wiring back in Sydney. As I have said before, there is always knowledgeable help at hand and in this instance it was Ray and Jan, from "Vamoose". Now we are re-wired and sorted out and just have to sit for a couple of days while power is transferred from the rodeo grounds to our batteries.

In the continually congenial company we are keeping, I don't really care how long it takes. Life is good and you can't help laughing!

August 1999

What a month this has been. One which has demonstrated the huge contrasts which Australia presents to the traveller. After finally leaving the lush environs or the Atherton Tablelands and the surrounding districts, which are primarily dairying country, we headed west to the Gulf of Carpentaria and Kurumba.

We could not help but wonder at the constantly changing landscape as we travelled. For a stretch we would be traversing flat desolate country, then the scene would change to coarse scrub, then through stunted timber hills and change again to almost desert plains. It is no wonder that the itinerate travellers keep going back over and over again without ever being bored.

The best I can say for Kurumba is that some people catch a lot of barramundi. We just caught wind and dust , but we did have several feeds of terrific fish and watched the fantastic sunset, but we can now say that we have been to "the Gulf".

It is both surprising and annoying that we are not able to go to many of the real attractions because they are booked out by coach groups; for instance, I would have loved to have toured the mine at Mt Isa, but the mine tours were booked out for three weeks in advance. We found the Isa interesting, but not enough to wait nearly three weeks for the tour.

From Mt Isa we have moved along through Cloncurry, Julia Creek, Richmond and Hughenden to Charters Towers.

Casting back to one night on that leg, we were parked in a so called "Rest Area", half way between Cloncurry and Julia Creek. Whilst there were half a dozen caravans there as well, the facilities were minimal - no water or shade.

This is real "outback", flat desolate country with hardly any feed of any kind except a few scattered gorse bushes. Flat as a tack as far as the eye can see in any direction. A mild evening with no clouds and stars galore. You just can't imagine the stars of a clear outback sky. It is enough to make one wax lyrical.

However, for the first time since we left home, there was no TV and not even any radio. But there were road trains thundering past every little while, even as late as nine o'clock.

They are terrifying things on the roads. Huge semi trailers with three trailers and are fifty meters long. They don't slow down, but mostly move over to share the single lane of bitumen. Of course, stone and dust go flying everywhere from both vehicles. The last one of a convoy of six forced me off one evening and I took two great rocks on the windscreen, with two sizeable chips. Mum gave him "what for" on the UHF, but he just called her a "silly bitch" and screamed on into the distance.

More "welcome" signs, like that outside the hotel at Prairie and the reception we received in the bar of that august establishment would make all our lives a little bit cheerier. The pub at Prairie (between Hughenden and Torrens Creek) is just about the whole "town" except for a wheat silo and on the night we were there was playing host to huge truck carrying a portable motel. The characters of the drivers and the escorts would make a whole story on its own.

The recent highlights for us have been stopping in wonderful bush camps in this arid land,the surprise of driving into Richmond with its wonderful public and private gardens, with the dominance of brilliant bouganvilia ( I called into the Council just to congratulate them ), the varying nature of the country as we drive through it ( I am always amazed at the people who say "Australia is boring" ) and the friendly hospitality of the towns and councils who have decided that the "motorhome tourists" are worth having.

In the last context, Mareeba was tops and then Charters Towers was exemplary.

We went to Townsville for the weekend and to spend a few days and nights along some of the beaches to the north, but then hurried back to "The Towers" before going on. The town is so delightful and interesting and the district has so much to offer that we needed a lot more time there, and still do. Besides, the Council had invited the Motorhome Club to stay at the Showground as their guests. We were pleased to accept the invitation.

The wagon has run well and is excellent on the good roads and fair on dirt, although I tend to avoid dirt as much as possible and save that for the little car.

On one such excursion out of Charters Towers to "The Red Falls", a side trip both of us would thoroughly recommend, we became lost at dusk and spent several uncomfortable hours before we regained our bearings. Here is a moral - keep a full fuel tank, take water and biscuits or such, let someone know where you are going and for how long and have good directions. A blanket should also be part of the car equipment and a radio, if possible. The telephone is useless when out of range.

We met one old codger who directed us. "Go on another five miles or so and you'll see a angled turn to the right in the high grass. If youse come to a creek with a bunch of willows, you've gone six or seven miles too fer." Thanks a lot!

This is a timely reminder of the value of HF radio. We weren't in any real danger on that occasion, but it drove home the reality of the need for proper and reliable communications. Just ask the HF Club member who blew a tyre and had a puncture at the same time last week while he was at Carnarvon Gorge. A quick call to Peg-ray ( Ray Lawson for the uninitiated ) and the RACQ were at the scene next morning with the necessary tyres and the will to do the work. Intending new members could do no better than to contact Ray Lawson. He founded the Club and carries it forward with great enthusiasm and a wealth of knowledge.

From Charters Towers we headed for Emerald and the gem fields around Sapphire, Rubyvale, Anakie etc. where we have discovered a small covey of resident CMCA members and drop-ins who have made us very welcome with just plain good old fashioned hospitality. That is where we are now as we close our tale and concentrate, ever hopeful of even a little success, as we probe and fossick to our hearts content.

December 1999

There is just so much to recount as we finish our year of "new life", that we would need to have a whole copy of the Wanderer to ourselves.

Back home in Sydney, after spending the best part of four months in New South Wales and five months in Queensland, we have settled down until at least after Christmas. The wanderlust is only just controllable, but the interest of the brood and the advancing intelligence of the nine grandchildren will surely keep us on our toes for a little while.

We were just recollecting some of the places we have been and the talented people one comes across.

As we headed for Karumba, on the Gulf of Carpentaria out through Normanton, we were full of anticipation for beautiful barramundi and spectacular sunsets.Despite the glowing reports of other travellers we know, we found that the wind blew relentlessly, carrying half the dust of the north with it. The fishing was "off" and the dusty caravan parks were at capacity and certainly didn't want to know about the needs of big rigs like ours.

Not the best impression, I can assure you.

However, for three days we ate the best fish we could ever remember, saw the most magnificent sunsets one could imagine and generally made the best of the horrible wind and dust.

Fellow travellers kept telling us that they came back year after year and just how unlucky we were this time. So perhaps we will have better luck next time. It's just that it isn't just around the corner from anywhere and isn't on the way to anywhere either, so "next time" is probably a long way off.

One of the major delights of "motorhoming" is the continual unfolding of new experiences, acquaintances and characters which one finds along the way.

In Karumba is a little shop that no one should miss. Called "The Bush Wookatook", it is run by Graham and Louise Dean and offers a unique blend of Australiana in the form of verse, sketches, memorabilia and items of interest. It only takes a small prompt and Graham will launch into a melliferous recitation of one of his poems, delivered in an intense and resonant voice that adds colour and demands interest. I think he was probably pleased when Judy and I completed our meagre purchases and left him in peace.

As we had meandered in a generally southern direction from far north Queensland we set our cap for Emerald and the gem fields around Sapphire, Rubyvale, Anakie etc.

Emerald is a fine town with all the modern cons, including a Woolworths which offered up to 6c per litre off fuel. The Council even provides a sewage "dump point" for the ever present "black water" which we must disgorge from our holding tank every now and then.

The only problem is that it has been designed by a non-motorhomer and can't be reached from the road. The receptical has a most attractive metre high wall on three sides. The open side is inwards towards the park, so unless one has a very long waste hose or the ability to push "muck' uphill, one cannot use it. Good idea - bad execution.

More congratulations! The town Council has designated an area for overnight stopovers in the Botanical Gardens carpark, which is under a railway viaduct.

We had just settled down, in company with three or four other travellers, when a train rattled and clanged over the viaduct with a truly deafening din, easily enough to wake the dead. I rang the railways to ask about the frequency of such events. The answer was, "you aren't parked in the gardens carpark are you?" "Yes", I said.

"Well", came the reply, "we have another seven trains scheduled before dawn. Do you have a scrubbing brush?" "Yes, why?" "Because three of them are cattle trains!"

Enough said, we decamped and found a nice quiet spot next to the (closed) BMX bike track.

A terrific thing about Emerald we should all note is that nearly every major motor company is there, like Cummins, Kenworth, Isuzu, Mazda, and of course Ford and Toyota. Next stop west is Mt Isa for most of them.

Sapphire, Rubyvale and Anakie are three small towns with about 350 people between them. They are all only relics of days past when sapphire mining was prolific and profitable. But they hang on and are populated by generous, down to earth people who relish the life and have generated a spirit of incredible harmony and community well being.

We chose to stay at Rubyvale. Its most redeeming features being a new, but not offensively modern, pub, one of the best gem and jewellery galleries one would ever see outside of a major city and a good atmosphere.

W were very fortunate in being able to accept the hospitality of fellow Club members, George and Sandra, for over ten days. It was ten days of exploring and gemstone fossicking. We also attended the annual "Gemfest" at Anakie. Gems and gemstones galore, particularly sapphires from around the district. There were a couple of beauties, one for $45,000, one for $93,000 and one for $400,000. I am afraid we didn't buy any of them. The day was a lot of fun, with stalls and buskers and gems from all over the world.

As Rubyvale only has a population of less than one hundred, it was the social event of the month and once again a lot of fun was had by all. Isn't it amazing just how much fun we all have as we travel about the country.

We fossicked to our hearts content and some days to the limit of our physical endurance, but our best results came from "wash" which we bought for $5 a wheel barrow load.

We came away with a little bottle of interesting pieces of sapphire and two stones which we had cut for our grand daughters. Not big, mind you, .4 carrot each, but all our own work.

Later on we learned that at the very spot where Judy was convinced there was to be a real find, someone came along and dug up a sapphire which was expected to cut to some twenty carrots. That's the story of our life - we can't win the lottery either.

At Quilpie Judy and I had spent a pleasant few days poking about for opal, or at least some potch with colour. There we came across a gentleman who, although seemly semi-retired, was dealing in opal. He was also restoring and renovating the old defunct hotel and converting it into a first class restaurant, a b&b and some offices. He, in fact, had established his own office on the ground floor of the building and had a cutting and polishing establishment set up at the rear.

Whilst we did nothing to increase our meagre worldly possessions in Quilpie, we must commend any travellers there to visit the Catholic Church - the roof won't fall in. There you will see an incredible altar and side furniture, all built and crafted from opal. We are sure that it must be unique in the world and should not be missed.

After we bought some colourful chips from our friend, we headed down the track towards Eulo, past the Toompine pub and into the wilderness.

In the middle of the trek, we heard the most god-awful clattering from underneath the front of the wagon. I could not see what was causing the commotion. It sounded like a spring shackle, but they looked OK. I was bemused by the problem when the only vehicle we had seen for hours came along in the other direction. I naturally flagged it down. It was a scruffy looking twin cab ute towing a trailer and out piled four equally scruffy looking characters, all clutching stubbies in well worn stubby holders.

The highlight of this little charade was the contents of the trailer, a camel; yep - a camel. The spokesman announced that they were on their way to the Birdsville races and were driving the back roads for protection from the RBT. Imagine the scene - me agitated, Judy, for once dead quiet, and our rescuers were four affable drunks and a camel. All in the dusty outback where no man or beast should really venture.

We quickly established that I had broken the nearside front spring hanger; so with a "she'll be right mate!" our heroes departed the scene and left us to own devices. It was now coming on dusk and turning cold and I can truthfully say that I was not happy.I recalled having paid a courtesy call on the RFDS office in Cairns and being told to call them for any help or advice.

So I cranked up the Charleville RFDS frequency on the trusty old HF and hit the emergency button. Almost straight away, Cairns was on the blower, established that we didn't need a doctor and listened to the problem and my request that they tell me where the nearest RACQ office was.

Within minutes they were back to me with the info that the nearest RACQ was at Cunnamulla, 120 ks away, that there was a competent mechanic at Eulo, 80 ks away and that at Yowah, 50 ks, there was a mechanic with a workshop and a tow truck. They gave me his name and phone number and offered to ring him.

Now that we knew where to head, we unhooked the car and Judy set off to Yowah. Within the hour, the mechanic, Kim by name, was on the UHF and when we determined that the inside half of the hanger was still intact he logically suggested that I keep "driving slowly up and down the corrugations and you'll be here in a couple of hours" or if the other half breaks "ring me and I'll come out and get you".

"Fine" I said, "but please don't let Judy drive back. It's now nearly dark and there are Kangaroos and emus everywhere". He echoed that sentiment and took her around to the caravan park, settled her in with some other travellers and I carried on.

A couple of hours later, when I had driven very quietly along in first gear, sipped a few drams of cold wine as I went and listened to the Three Tenors, and other music of my choice, at full blast, I arrived at beautiful downtown Yowah, ( population maybe 40 souls ) where we spent several very pleasant days while Kim did a temporary welding job and we continued our unsuccessful search for opal.

As I close this tale, let me assure you that I will never be "off the beaten track" without the HF radio. That communication with the RFDS immediately removed all the alarm and tension. Our situation obviously wasn't dangerous, but it was most uncomfortable and unnerving at the time.

And, by the way, I left a trail of musically educated wildlife along the road to Yowah that evening. If you are down that way and the kangaroos and emus keep running with you, all they want is to hear Pavaroti at full volume.

January 2000

Our "Twosome Tales" in The Wanderer began just on one year ago! The initial intention had just been to write about the traumas and joys of beginning a "motorhoming experience". However, as the time passed we have rambled on in print and tried to relay some of the many thrills and experiences which have befallen us. We have just received confirmation of our passage on "The Spirit of Tasmania" and I thought that before we set off again, I would relate some of the highlights of our first year of "grey nomading".

New chums, like us, as opposed to veterans like so many of our fellow motorhomers, will find that the new "lease of life" which they are about to embrace will change their outlook for ever. It will become different and hugely for the better.

Compared to many of our CMCA fellows, the scope of our travels is still only minuscule. However, we have never before enjoyed a year like this one just completed.

Trying to pick the highlights is extremely difficult, but here are some of them:--

· Making the decision to "go" was the first, and perhaps the most important, action of the whole process.

Then came the choice of vehicle, which resulted in us overspending on maybe too big a unit, while we tried to preserve the illusion that we were not really going roughing it "on the road". At this stage, I would have to say that we chose well and we are happy with our unit, despite its occasional warts.

It amazes me that after one year we have travelled so far in just such a small part of Australia, seen so much and also missed so much that I know we could spent at least that much time again just picking up on things which are still to be seen.

Veterans of the lifestyle, like Ray and Peg Lawson and Charlie and Valda Dawson, keep asking, "what's the hurry? There's plenty of time, so why go rushing madly all over the place?" "Stop and look, smell and feel, then cast a line or something, there's plenty of time".

I am glad we didn't go charging "around Australia". With twenty five thousand kms chalked up in only part of NSW and Queensland, it should take us a good decade to "get around". That is, of course, if we don't dawdle too much.

· Then there is the wonderful experience of the Club Chapters.
When I felt that I was a reasonably competent driver, we ventured forth to a meeting of the Sydney Wanderers. The welcoming warmth and genre of hospitality were beyond all the expectations of a chap who had just recently come from the realms of the city "rat race".

It just takes you by surprise and wraps you up in the comfort of camaraderie. All manner of interests prevail; mechanics galore, crafts of many varieties, solar systems, places of interest, roads to travel (or not to travel) social activities and the indomitable disk bowls.

Our one regret, at this stage, is that our travels have kept us away from most of the meetings. But, we are Sydney Wanderers, with a base and a proud membership and are always pleased to see other members along the way. However, wander into any club chapter meeting and the reception is much the same.

New chums - don't pass up these opportunities, the aftermath will stay with you for ever. So will the friends and acquaintances.


· Next highlight has been the rallies.

We have attended the major rallies at Townsville and Forbes; while smaller ones at Cairns, Mareeba and Charters Towers have also provided unique and pleasurable gatherings of motorhomers en masse.

The first major rally, at Townsville, was such a "culture shock" that we will never forget it. Seven hundred and fifty motorhomes gathered in the one place at the same time. Prior to our Club days, I could not have imagined anything worse. Now, we look back at one of the outstanding weeks of our lives. Apart from all the other pleasures, where else does one find the likes of Lance McGuire, with his banjo; the jamming with Barrie and Deb; or the fun of "Mr Magic", Kevin Robinson, hamming it up to everyone's delight.

The follow-ups at the other venues were just as pleasant. I could become a "rally junky" without too much trouble. About five weeks out of the year have provided so much enjoyment that one will always relish in the memory bank.

Again I suggest to new chums, "be in it, you can't lose - only win!" (If you must "borrow" a motorised bike, don't prang it - Judy did!) And don't pass up camps and stays "in company", they will augment your wonderful private times.

· Next on the highlight list are lakes.

Now, here there is real variety. Lakes, dams, weirs and even "tanks" provide an endless source of beauty and tranquillity. As my friend, Ray Collings, says, "wherever there is a sign to a dam or weir, there will be a beautiful picnic and camping spot". I haven't proved him wrong yet.

Our very favourite so far is Lake Tineroo, on the Atherton Tablelands. Surrounded by lush bush, some fertile farmland and featuring a number of excellent campsites, the lake is a picturesque masterpiece (and abounds in the delicious "redclaw").

Next on the list would be Carcoar Dam, near Blayney, in NSW. This dam is maintained by the rangers of the Dept of Water Resources and is an absolute credit to their efforts. The speciality here is "red fin", a bountiful and fine eating fish.

Third on my list is Lake Burrendong, out of Wellington (also in NSW). This is a slightly different kettle of fish. It is administered by a trust on behalf of the Wellington Shire. It offers full facilities at a reasonable price and judging by the nature of the other visitors when I was there, the fishing must be excellent.

Adjacent to the Lake, the Trust has created an Arboretum that must be seen to be believed. In the middle of NSW mid west is a virtual rain forest of extraordinary beauty; a recreated north Queensland gem, married to a diversity of flora and trees. It bears mute testimony to the Trust's efforts to present as much as possible of Australia's native plant life in an incredibly interesting environment.

Third tip to beginners - "Look for dams and weirs!" There are dozens of them.
(If you have the chance to go jet ski-ing at Tineroo, don't think your ski is amphibious. Geoff Gnapp did!)

· Next are beaches.

So many to choose! --- Our picks would be Seven Mile Beach on the NSW South Coast; Umina, on the NSW Central Coast; Elizabeth Beach, near Forster; Ellis Beach, between Cairns and Port Douglas; and the beach at Cape Tribulation.

· Now rivers.
Our pick --- The Wallagareagh at Genoa, on the NSW / Vic border; the Hawkesbury, at Wiseman's Ferry, NSW. So many more, everywhere.

Tip - "You can't go wrong with a river".
(Watch out for snakes. They don't object to being in motorhomes!)

· Friendly towns -

In Queensland, the outstanding ones for us were Charters Towers, Mareeba and the whole of the Atherton Tablelands.

In NSW they were Millthorpe, Stroud and Bombala.

Tip - "These are just the tip of the iceberg".
(If you must break down. Do it near a friendly town - like Yawoh or Rubyvale!)

· Look outs for overnight stops.

Once again there are so many. As we recall them, outstanding for us were- Millaa Millaa look out, near Millaa Millaa; Silo Hill, above Stroud; Bald Hill, above Hill End.

Tip - "You will never wake up to anything better than the view of a town or valley from its 'hill'".
(Sometimes you can have company. The hill at Gulgong is called "Flirtation Hill". Wonder why!")

· Sights!!

Just too many to pick any stand outs.

Starting from the Blue Mountains and finishing with Cape Tribulation and the Chillagoe Caves, across to Mt Isa and the Gulf, down through Longreach, inland NSW and the whole of the coast. Day after day of this wonderful country.

Tip to the beginners - "Don't go past anything, don't be in a hurry!" (e.g. How can we have not seen the Undarra Tubes or Carnarvon Gorge etc. Looks like it needs another trip sometime soon. )

Final tips- plan your rig and its equipment; be sure to address safety and medical requirements; enjoy the fellowship of the road; plan a general direction - and then just go where the whim and the will dictate, but always be sure that someone knows where you are (generally speaking, of course). If you have a dog, keep it on a leash. Otherwise you might have a "two dog" story to tell! Like -----, well never mind. Watch out for camels, kangaroos, emus, drunks, champion disc bowlers and us!

Vincent Moran N14036