Time for a Holiday

I have always said the best aid to navigation is lots and lots of fuel.  This principle has placed me in good stead throughout my military career whilst manoeuvring armoured vehicles around the countryside and has also proven to be effective on this OZ trip, particularly in the last few days.  Not exactly because we have been geographically embarrassed but more so that we have made a few dodgy decisions about destinations and how to get there.  The ten litre jerry-can of diesel I attached to the drawbar of the caravan, almost as an afterthought, has been a blessing on a few occasions.  The latest episode occurred on Saturday when we decided to go to the Victorian seaside inlet of Marlo with a view to setting up for a few days free-camping only to realise that it was not exactly in the direction we wanted to go and that none of the campsites within cooee were even close to being free. Indeed, camping was $38 per night with no power, water or sullage. So, it was time to get the heck outa dodge. 



Fletcher was not impressed with the camping fees.

Despite being a bit low on juice we decided to once again put the fuel efficiency of the Santa Fe to the test.  We have two fuel cards for the Santy, Caltex and BP, but I am no fan of BP and will bypass them at every turn unless absolutely necessary.  Which leaves us with Caltex as the single preferred supplier, and they are not on every street corner unfortunately.  Suffice to say that the Santy came up trumps once again and we made it through to Lakes Entrance with at least 5ml of diesel to spare.....

Don't you just love modern cars when they give you every type of warning that you are running out of fuel but you just keep going, testing fate with every push of the accelerator.  Fuel gauge showing below E, low fuel warning light lights flashing RED, Distance to Empty computer refusing to display a positive digit.  But we keep driving.

It would be funny if the thing actually ran out of fuel and the computer display comes up with the declaration 'Buffoon. I told you so.'  Because there are no real excuses for running out of fuel, certainly not in Victoria anyway.  Maybe in the desert or somewhere acutely remote but not in one of the most populated states in Australia.  I can just imagine the roadside assistance mechanic having to reset the Buffoon mode from the computer after he has refuelled and primed the thing.  Of course there would be the mandatory 'Buffoon callout fee' he would charge too. Yep. Lots of fuel for me.

Now this has almost nothing to do with what we have been up to lately nor, I suspect, what you would be likely interested in reading about out trip.  So I'll cut to the chase.

We landed in a place called Log Crossing, a tranquil little bush camp which feels very remote, but is actually not far from Lakes Entrance.  We played a lot of cards, enjoyed a good book and saw some great wildlife (including a VERY big black snake!)

 



Last night we enjoyed damper and a few songs around the campfire with another traveller,

Tom the Pom.

 

 



 

We made some good friends, Tessa and Mia from Denmark, who shared some pancakes with us for breakfast.  We tried out our new Beechworth vanilla-infused honey!  Yum!

 

 Jarrah demonstrated the new spaghetti eating technique by sucking

 each strand up between his two front teeth. 

 

Do not try this at home.

He is a trained professional and the patent is pending.

Today we packed up and moved camp to a place called Reeves Beach, which is a free campsite on the southern Victorian coast east of Wilsons Promontory, west of where we almost ran out of fuel and somewhat north of Tasmania. 

We pulled in here in the pouring rain among five or six other caravans all sheltering from the weather.  So after we quickly set up we snuggled up inside the van to keep warm and played some games.

But it was a good day nonetheless.  We bought a new mountain bike for Jack from a fella who refurbishes them.  The bike we bought looks quite new and hadn't actually needed refurbishing so it was an easy purchase.  It happens to be exactly the same as the bike Jack has at home so we should be sweet with spare parts for a couple of years. 

Jack with said bike.

The boys still have a good amount of lollies from the show-bags Aunty Barb bought them from the Royal Show.  One lolly per day, per child, perhaps is the rule and it seems to be stretching out the allocation just nicely. Still, it is not without a struggle every day where Andrea or I have to adjudicate over some form of controversy concerning the apparent imbalanced allocation of biscuits, lollies, fruit, soft drink and food in general.  Apparently, all food sources must be allocated in exactly equal proportions.  Wouldn't want to be unfair or show any form of favouritism would we?
 



Jarrah, after finding out that Jack got more Milo than him.

 

 Andrea cooked up another terrific dish of curried sausages and mashed potato for dinner, which is becoming a bit of a favourite I must say.   We watched the second instalment of "The Last Outlaw" on DVD, which is the four-part mini-series of Ned Kelly we bought in Glenrowan.  The infamous gunfight at Stringybark Creek was the last scene of this episode and so the boys were all fired-up and we struggled to settle them down and get them into bed without having to threaten the use of the whacking spoon again...  Bloody bushrangers.

 

 

Today, Tuesday, was a heck of a holiday day.  Walking along the Ninety Mile Beach, or in current terms the 144.9 Kilometre Beach, was as close as having a holiday as it can get, I reckon.  The wind was howling and the seas were a bit rough but it was very therapeutic with the sand underfoot and enormous Kestrels overhead. 

 

 Which way, Hal?

 

Chariots of Fire.

Fletcher William in full stride.



We walked for over an hour to find the Woodside Beach Surf Club to get a nice feed for lunch, but they were closed.  But not so much as closed as deserted.  We found the local caravan park but it too was deserted, except for one guy in the kiosk, Steve.  Nice guy to chat to but thoroughly bored with no-one to talk to other than his pet dog, King, and any tourist that happens to take a wrong turn, such as us.  Apparently we are here a few days before all hell breaks loose and an overwhelming stream of Melbournians flood the 'Lakes' area for the Melbourne Cup long weekend and wreak havoc on the beach. 

 



Thought we would get a little fishing in before the hoards descend

on the place and deplete the local stocks....

 

Steve was a really nice dude who has all but sold us on visiting Sovereign Hill in Ballarat.  Didn't sell being in Woodside Beach for long though.   He gave the boys a complimentary lolly-pop and we were back off down the beach to the van for happy hour and homework :)

 

 Mrs Drysdale won't know what hit her when he gets to kindy next year.

 

Tomorrow our intention is to head off toward Wilsons Promontory to find out exactly who the Wilsons are.  And why they have a promontory.  But all these questions and more will be answered in the next blog.  I can't wait!