Déjà fucking vu

It’s not ideal to start your day with a puncture. In fact it sucks. I broke the news to Becky by doing that thing when you shout “good news”, and for a second she thought I actually had good news. But I didn’t have good news. That was the joke… the unfunny joke.

As we weren’t blocking any roads this time, I decided to change the tyre myself. We still had the same shitty jack, but I thought I could make it work. The whole time Becky wanted to ask the other campers if we could borrow their stuff. But I said, “NO, I got this”. And I did, and it wasn’t that hard… I got the necessary experience to do this shit now. Some old fella did ask if we needed help, but I declined. It all went very smoothly. However, I did lose my temper packing up the tent, that stupid, fucking piece of shit tent.

With the tyre successfully changed, we started off on our journey south. We weren’t feeling particularly jovial, and the whole experience was beginning to wear us down. At this point you normally add how these things are character building, but I like to think I have enough character, and car troubles aren’t going to do shit to make me a better person. We’d originally planned to drive through the Flinders Ranges and stay a few nights there. As the exhaust was broken, again, and we had no spare tyre, again, we thought we’d head to Adelaide to get that shit fixed ASAP, and just do a quick drive through Finders without camping or hiking. For those who have kept up with our journey, this should be ringing bells. We were heading south into shitty, colder weather, to a state capitol, to fix a puncture and a broken exhaust just as the weekend was starting so everything was shut… At least this time we had the engine light on to show we were progressing.

The drive through Flinders was amazing. The scenery was beautiful and we saw loads of emu’s, kangaroos, wedge-tailed eagles, a snake, and loads of other reptiles. Did we appreciate the experience? Nope, we just whinged about how unlucky we are and how difficult our life driving around Australia on an extended holiday is.

Very much in need of a tea spoon of cement

Becky did a better job of covering her displeasure at our predicament for the pictures. But we both felt at the end of our tether, honest!

Just grin and bear it

After spending a couple of hours speeding through an area of natural beauty that you could easily spend a week in, we opted to spend the night in Snowtown. Nothing brings home the trivial nature of your problems than spending the night in a town infamous for being the place numerous murdered bodies were stored by a serial killer and his gang.

I think the sign makes it clear, there are no killers here

We arrived at the town quite late, and pulled into the camping spot run by the locals… It turned out to be nothing more than the car park of the local community centre. I was not impressed, and for the second time that day I lost my usual calm composure.

What camping is all about

As we sat in the car, the campground caretaker pulled up next to us and asked if we were staying. I didn’t have any more driving in me, so I reluctantly paid for a site. He mentioned that they were also serving food at the clubhouse that night, and we were welcome to eat there. We put the tent up, and as neither of us could face pasta stir-in or 3-mintue noodles, we wandered over to the clubhouse. What a fucking gem of a place! It was AWESOME, filled with locals eating the cheap, but surprisingly nice food. We had a lovely bit of grilled butterfish and chips for $10 each, washed down with cheap golds. Oh, how wrong I was about this place. We spent the rest of the evening watching the locals and feeling everything was right with the world.

Blending in

That night we slept well, except for the train that ran right passed the camp spot… I guess nothing’s perfect. As we packed up that morning, the birds were singing and we felt at peace. Once in the car, I started it up, the exhaust banged against the diff and the engine light came on… Fuck this holiday.

We drove into the town centre to have a look. While Becky took a look at the lovely town buildings, I messed about with the tie wire on the exhaust, as it was banging about a bit. While doing this I slammed my hand into the ground. Fuck this stupid fucking holiday.

A building from happier days

We’d booked a hotel room in central Adelaide, but as we couldn’t check in until 2pm, we drove to a beach just south of the city to have a picnic lunch. It was a lovely bit of coastline, and wasn’t too chilly either. Perhaps things were starting to look up again.

Happiness is being away from the car

The hotel we’d booked didn’t have free parking, but as it was a Sunday we had assumed there would be places to park nearby for free. WRONG! The hotel was on a street with very little parking, and all of it taken. We had to opt for the hotel’s paid parking area, but found out that this had a height restriction of 2m, and we were 2.4m with everything on the roof. Fucking stupid car and crappy holiday.

Not built for city living

It was Becky’s turn to melt down and my turn to be the level headed one. My plan was to empty as much of the inside of the car as possible in to the hotel room, and then unload the dirty stuff on the roof into the car. It worked and we edged through the underground parking gate, with only millimetres to spare. In busy towns, the cruiser feels like a tank… a shitty old tank.

Hurdle cleared and the car parked, we did what we always do in cities we’ve never been before; we sat in our room surfing the Internet. We also discussed if we still wanted to do this whole road-trip thing. It was all starting to feel like hard work, and we were boring ourselves with the amount of moaning we were doing. That evening it pissed down, but thankfully we were in a lovely room with solid walls and a roof. The room was great, with lovely views from the twelfth floor and the bed was very comfy. The only downside was we could hear the dumf dumf of young people music playing at a local club. As we were both so tired, it didn’t keep either of us awake for long. However, it did keep us awake between 5am-6am, when it was still going. I hate young people.

Up and almost refreshed, we set about our daily tasks. The first was to take the car to Bob Jane T-mart to fix the tyre under warranty. They told us a small nail had caused the puncture, but at least the work on the tyres cost us nothing, so that was good. We then took the car to an exhaust place, and left it with them for the day. It was a 3km walk back to the hotel, which gave us plenty of time to moan about our situation and how unlucky we’ve been. We walked through the centre of Adelaide; well, what we assumed was the centre, as we didn’t really check.   

Nice big balls

Even through our grumpy glasses, it seemed a nice place. We did see quite a few people who looked the worse for wear, which we put down to the ice epidemic gripping SA, a conclusion we came to based on a half-watched news program we saw years earlier... so definitely 100% true then.

Looks nicer than pasta stir-in

Later that afternoon we went and picked up the car from the exhaust guy. He’d welded the metal bracket and changed the rubber bracket. He mentioned that the rubber bracket looked very old and worn. This was strange, as it has been replaced twice on this journey, so either we have been conned for a very cheap part, or the roads we’ve been on have just been that rough. It was only $90, which sounds like a lot but isn’t in the big scheme of our cars problems and fixes.

We enjoyed a final night in our lovely hotel, watching YouTube videos and discussing what we should do next. It was then we decided that, as we'd holidayed in Victoria and NSW before and really couldn’t face another period in the cold south, we should head to warmer climes, and the familiar humidity of QLD. Once there, we could decide if we would just jack it in or drive north again, and maybe end the holiday amongst the cassowaries we failed to see all those months ago.

A little place by the lakeside

The last “big” thing on our list of things we wanted to see was Lake Eyre. It’s a huge lake, which most of the time is just an empty salt bed and has only been filled with water four times in the last 150 years. On the way, we thought that we’d check out Coober Pedy first, the largest opal mining town in the universe. The blurb mentions how apocalyptic it looks, and has been used in such films as Mad Max 3 and some other unknown shit. They also all live underground, like hobbits, to hide from the high summer temps, which can reach 50 degrees. When we got there we were a little disappointed, as it just looked like every other shitty outback town.  

We popped into the information centre, and the lady behind the counter made the Kalgoorlie information centre look like a fountain of useful facts. Dejected we went to explore the town. We headed for the big winch, which was a large winch.

Say what you see

The whole town was quite run down and there weren't many people. We couldn’t work out if this was because its glory days were behind it, or it was just off-season. There were a few opal trucks, which looked a little like a Mad Max prop, but not much else.

Looks similar to our car

We stayed at a place just out of town that had the novelty of camping underground for a few extra dollars. The owner turned out to be a bit of a douche, dropping daddy jokes with a dickhead edge. Having seen the place, camping underground seemed to be like camping in a basement, so after he had given his salesman pitch to us we took the cheaper outside plot. The rest of the hot afternoon we spent in the campsites TV basement, and the whole basement thing made sense as it was a lovely temperature down there. Becky entertained herself with podcasts and puzzles while I wrote a blog. Just before we left the basement, I swigged on the last remaining dregs of a coke, and my sunglasses that were resting on top of my head, fell off and the lens cracked on the hard floor. I was pretty pissed, but luckily I had brought a second pair with me… It had seemed silly to have two pairs, but in the end having a spare pair paid off. That night we had three-minute noodles under the stars.

The next day, after stocking up on supplies and fuel we headed towards Lake Eyre. The dusty, unsealed road was in lovely shape, and things were all going very well when we pulled up to the William Creek hotel, the last place before the turn off to Lake Eyre. They had an interesting area filled with junk and graves of locals and some woman who’d died in 1998 aged 28. Sad.

Where next?

We asked a lady working at the hotel what the 4wd track in to Lake Eyre was like, and she grumpily replied it was "just a track". Brilliant, that was the kind of inside information we were looking for, and it felt good to tap into local knowledge rather than rely on a tourist book. After a burger and chips at the hotel, we began the 60km drive to Lake Eyre. Turns out it's not "just a track", and nor is it really 4wd; it’s just a badly managed shitty road that is really, really corrugated… It was almost as bad as Mitchell Falls! After 20kms we started talking about whether we should turn around, as it was very slow going and the flashbacks of the dramas we'd had were haunting us. I decided we should push on as the road started to get better. For the next 20kms things seemed okay, and the scenery was amazing.

Moon landing in a beaten up cruiser

But then the corrugations started again, and the car was getting thrown about once more. As we approached the campsite, we could hear a familiar clanging sound from under the car. After we picked a spot in the empty campsite, I took a look under the car to find our brand new exhaust, just installed in Perth, had broken off the bracket by the muffler. I couldn’t fucking believe it. It seemed we were jinxed to have the same issues with the same parts of the car. To calm ourselves after all this stress, we went for a walk on the lake. The expanse was mind-blowing. What do you do in such places? Bit of badly done yoga, obviously.

It almost works

As we walked further out onto the lake, Becky started sinking, getting her flip-flops and feet covered in the dark muddy ooze that resides below the thin salty upper layer. She was not a happy bunny! 

Grubby feet

Back at camp, we used some of the 85litres of water we’d carried in to clean her feet. This just added to the worries Becky was having. She wasn't worried about the thousands of flies or the heat, but didn't feel very comfortable with the isolation at the end of a road that leads nowhere. Her biggest worry was if the car broke down, and we were stranded, how much water could she use for her daily shower? The exhaust issues (again) had not eased her fears, and she started discussing escape routes and how long we should wait until we tried to walk out. I just spent my time under the car trying to stop the exhaust clanging against the diff using tie wire. Still, it was an amazing place.

Lighter on foot than Becky

By sunset Becky was still worried about dying trying to get out, but it didn't stop us enjoying the fact we were all alone and getting this part of Lake Eyre to ourselves. The sunset over the expanse of the salt flat was breathe-taking.

Taking in the beauty, and forgetting the risk for a moment

Although the flies were out in force and I had to enjoy it through a green mesh.

I haven't really got the hang of how fly nets work

That night, under the stars of the outback, I slept well, Becky not so much. We got up at sunrise, firstly to enjoy the colours of the morning over the lake, but also because Becky wanted to get out of there asap. 

Ow big is it?

Sunrise was as enjoyable as sunset, but it was quickly over.

Sunrise enjoyed, so let's get the fuck out of here.

Once the sun was up, we packed up quickly and started the slow drive out. We crawled the first 20km over the shitty bit, which took around an hour. We then tried to make some progress over the middle “good” bit, pausing only to take a photo of a plaque remembering the 28 yr old we saw mentioned at William Creek.

A sad story

We later googled her name, and Becky was pleased we didn’t read about it before as it would just have fuelled her worries further. It is a scary reminder of what can happen in these places, with a succession of fuck ups leading to the tragedy. However, our story ended well, taking a little under 3hrs to make it back to the main dirt road.

At this point we weren’t really sure what we should do. We were both a little tired of camping, and the exhaust issue, in conjunction with the engine light and multiple small leaks had pushed us to the limit of fucks to give. We stopped to take in some of the sights while discussing our plans. The first place was a spring with water bubbling up from the Great Artesian Basin, meaning some of the water could be millions of years old. It was an interesting place but so windy that you could only pee safely in one direction. At least the wind stopped the flies bothering us.

Some old water

As we continued our journey, enjoying the multiple abandoned homesteads on route, we whinged about our bad luck on this road trip. Sure, we were lucky enough to do it and had seen sights that we’d remember forever, but we’d had exhaust problems three times… that has to be worthy of some pity! 

We stopped for the night, after driving 7hrs but not getting that far, at an abandoned town called Farina. It has become a restoration project over the past few years, and was a very cool place. The campsite was really nice, and the wildlife put us both in a better mood. 

Daddy and his kiddies.

Wandering around the site, reading about the fascinating history behind the town and the tragic stories of the townsfolk who fought in the two World Wars was just the thing we needed to pull us out of our self-pity slump. That night we both went to bed happy.

A "restored" building... someone should tell them it's missing the roof.

The next morning as I was checking the car I noticed something all too familiar… We had another fucking puncture on one of our new tyres. C’MON, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.

New day, similar problems

Living next door to Alice. Alice? Who the fuck is Alice?

The West McDonnell Ranges is famous for having a number of beautiful gorges and swimming holes. The first we drove past, Redbank Gorge, has a 45min walk to the swimming hole... can you guess if we went to that one? Answer: did we fuck.

The next two, Glen Helen Gorge and Ormiston Gorge, were very close to each other and both only had a two-minute walk to the swimming hole. We opted for Ormiston Gorge as it had a National Park campground and sounded a bit nicer. As we are out of season the campsite was quite empty, just the way we like it. There was also a kiosk that served lunch and cakes. At the start of this journey I would have balked at a national park with a fucking kiosk in it. I mean, how sell out is that? Jeez, we go to these places to be at one with nature and to get away from the concrete jungle. After four months on the road I loved that I could get a flat white coffee and homemade carrot cake here. We also had a lovely spinifex pigeon wandering around our table.

No cake for you

Oh, how life on the road has changed me.

After the cake, we went for a short walk to the swim hole. Over the past few months the lack of training and poor diet choice is starting to show. I am looking more and more like the contestants from fattest loser after they lost the weight… lots of loose skin. I have a feeling that I have already made that joke, but can’t be fucked to check.

Make a splash, fat boy.

That night, Becky cooked up some of her famous pasta stir-in sauce. Or it might have been her 3-minute noodle dish, I can’t really remember as it was a while ago, but it was definitely one of those, ‘cos that’s all we fucking eat these days.

The next morning we set off on the 4km walk around the gorge. The hardest bit was walking to the lookout, but even that was quite easy.

Pretty place

We were alone for most of the walk and had a lovely dip in a swimming hole deeper into the gorge. 

Trying a new version of solo synchronised swimming

We strolled back very content with our morning ramble. I even tried some rock hopping, but added a bit of parkour by spinning mid air. I really have peeled back the years on this holiday.

Street gymnastics

We visited the kiosk again to have lunch, both of us were looking forward to their homemade lasagne. Unfortunately, they only had one lasagne left, and as it was my birthday a few days ago Becky had it. I had to settle for some honey glazed beef thing with rice, which was ok. Becky said the lasagne was absolutely delicious. We both enjoyed a orange, spongy cake thing for pudding. We liked it here and I now think all national parks should have a kiosk that serves homemade food.

The rest of the day we sat around the campsite in the sweltering heat. We watched lots of different birds around the site, and had a lovely day. The only real drama came late in the day, when we suddenly noticed the 2^nd battery had drained. It had been a hot couple of days and nights, working the fridge a lot harder than normal, and we hadn’t been using the solar panels. We had a bit of panic and fluttered about, before deciding to drive to Glen Helen Gorge to recharge the battery a bit. We hoped that’d be enough keep the fridge running over night.

Another fucking gorge

Luckily this proved enough, and the next morning we headed off for new adventures, fridge running at full tilt keeping the opened jar of pasta stir-in sauce cold… phew! We stopped at Ellery Creek Big Hole for a morning swim. It had cooled significantly over the night and it was a bit fresh in the water. However, I was feeling brave, so jumped in and swam out. What a tough little boy I am.

Wade in the water

Feeling a little gorged out, we headed for our camping spot just outside Alice Springs. We had a hotel booked in Alice Springs for the next day, and didn’t want to waste our precious hotel time doing mundane jobs, so after setting up camp headed into Alice to wash the car, refuel and buy some tasty snacks and beers. Back at the site, we enjoyed the rest of the day drinking in nature.

After a boozy nights sleep, and multiple visits to the toilet to pee, we had one last place to tick off the list before leaving the West MacDonnell Ranges; Simpsons Gap. The gorge has a colony of rare black-footed wallabies, and we were lucky enough to spot one on the rocks.

What makes you so special?

And with that we bid farewell to nature for a few days, and headed for the hotel for a few nights away from the canvas and sleeping on the floor. That night we decided to go all the way and ordered room service, we both had barramundi and chips.

Because I'm worth it

We spent the rest of the night surfing the internet and relaxing… well, Becky did, as I slaved away on the blog.

The next morning I took the car to the mechanic to see what we could do about the engine light. The mechanic used his reader to tell me there were a few sensor problems, and it probably wasn’t worth doing anything now, as it could take a few days and wasn't a big issue. He also told me that the opal fuel they use here is utter shit and should be avoided. He dropped a few other car advice gems, and then charged me $40 for the scan… and he didn’t even give me a print out of the sensor codes I wanted. Admittedly I didn't ask for them, but he should have known.

Feeling upbeat about the car not being quite ready for the scrap yard yet, we spent the rest of the morning doing very little. In the arvo we went into the “city”, but it didn't impress us much apart from a giant picture of a thorny,

Two little cuties

That was enough outside, and we went back to just sit in the room watching bachelorette reruns. It was a brilliant day!

After a tearful goodbye to the room the next morning, we fuelled up, stocked up on pasta stir-in, ate lunch, dropped stuff off to a charity shop (but we don’t want to talk about that) and shipped out towards the NT/SA border.

We spent the night at the last roadhouse on the NT side. Here we discovered that we weren’t allowed to take any of the fruits and vegetables we’d just bought in Alice across the border into SA, because NT pests take all the jobs from the SA pests and just don't get the culture. We had a lot of lettuce and tomato in our sandwiches for dinner that night.

Before or after shot?

The next morning we crossed over into SA, without any fruit or vegetables in the car, honestly officer, because I promise we ate the last of it this morning.

New day, new state.

Becky was there too.