The Re-imagining comes to an end

When staying at the Hilton a good day is usually completed with a fine meal prepared by a Chef chosen to uphold the reputation of the establishment – how could you re-imagine the Hilton without re-imagining dinner? – We sneak off to the Iluka Bowls Club – the meals could not be inferior to those of Sedges Pub! – in the fashion of clubs of this ilk the menu consists of Chinese fare – based on our limited experience of club fare the expectations which we bring with us would make a very poor attempt indeed if they tried to access the stratosphere – a stunning surprise! – a meal of extraordinary quality! -  perhaps re-imagining the Hilton is possible after all! – This chef goes beyond simply upholding the reputation of the establishment – he creates it!

The guardian of the Caravalutian Church continues to watch over us – the weather is clement – the rain is absent – the chattering neighbour has lost his chatter – the stars are shining – all is good!

We awake – there has been a little rain earlier in the night but the canvass no longer bears any trace of it – we pack up slowly – things proceed slowly and surely – we are starting to think this caravanning thing might not be so bad after all – the last task is to lower the van – the guardian looks away – the van has one last laugh at us – she has stored a pool of water on her roof that deposits upon us – the chattering neighbour emerges from his tent – his face transmits his thoughts – “where in the hell did that water come from” – “those blood newbies – no way are they going to get into this church!” – he turns his head (we assume in disgust) and returns inside his van to keep his partner fully informed on this latest caravanesi episode – I feel just a tinge of sympathy for the poor church member who is to assume dominion over our site – they will hear the chattering neighbour repeat the story of the incompetent newbies over and over again until such time as everyone in the park has heard it or until he moves on to another park.

Off towards Brisbane - the chattering neighbour looks out from his annex - the wave good bye from him lacks enthusiasm - he thinks to himself - "I must not give them any encouragement - they may try it again!"



We have some experience of Brisbane drivers so the transit through the metropolis is approached with some trepidation - their propensity towards road manners that could be described as resting somewhere between discourteous and homicidal is well recognised -  I think to myself - "Just remember Mike - if you want to change lanes whatever you do so do not signal your intention in advance else your ability to effect the maneuver will be be rendered non existent" - "check that you have room - swing out immediately - then put on your blinker in case there is an accident and you need to convince the insurance company that you had followed the road rules" - I put my strategy into place - I check the mirrors - I swing out - I look in the mirror - I see the look of horror in the eyes of the driver behind - I can read the driver's mind - "that bastard was unfair - he didn't warn me so I had no time to accelerate to block his movement - bastard! - bastard!"

It is over – we reach the sanctuary of the granny flat in Red Hill – the van is left to rest at the Virginia warehouse – she will go with us to Hervey Bay there to sit and await her fate!

While I am certain that there was never any real chance of Melanie coming out of retirement nevertheless she can rest easy in the knowledge that she does not even have to tell me, in the words of PG Wodehouse, “To go climb a tree and drag the trunk up with you!” – the marriage has survived – frustrations and annoyances all well masked!

Did I successfully re-imagine the Hilton – perhaps yes – perhaps no! – would I do it again? – perhaps yes – perhaps no – do two excellent days out of ten while caravanning outrank ten good days resting up at the Hilton? – well that depends on how you the value of an excellent day relative to a good day!


I relate my tale to a fellow heretic - he was not impressed - "How could you possible think you could re-imagine the Hilton in a caravan - you could only do that in a beachfront villa in the Cook Islands!" - the van's navigator  pricks her ears but decides any comment to me might be best left to another time.

A day of enlightenment

The guardian of the Caravanlutian Church is taking an interest in us – she keeps the wind at bay and confines the rain to our sleeping moments – she even allows us to sleep through the constant chatter of her devotee that resides in the adjacent lot of this delightful caravanesi – if I was to believe just half of the facts that he expounded then I would be a universal expert on all matters that may be of interest to mankind – the tolerance of his partner is a source of amazement to me!

The sun rises early and gently warms the area – so gently that she avoids agitating the winds so that the river is calm and the environment of the river a delight to all mankind.

A chair is moved to the riverside - the birds are watched – the fisherpeople are watched – the ferry is watched – the flowers on the river bank are watched – the head goes back – the sun warms the back – time passes in an instant.

Stroll 50 metres down to the café for coffee – stroll back home – sit on the chair again – relax – read - do nothing – relax – enjoy – enjoy. 

Stroll to the café again – lunch – stroll back – relax – read – listen to PG Wodehouse – do nothing – listen some more – relax – enjoy – enjoy.

So this is what it is all about! – perhaps a day of enlightenment! – didn’t miss the Hilton a bit!

Another modicum of understanding.

 We actually cook a meal at our van site – perhaps that is yet another misstatement of reality – Bernie cooked a meal at our van site! – she was successful in her usual manner – perhaps the couple have achieved yet another badge on their way to certification as genuine caravaners even if they remain a long way short of the standard acceptable for admission to the caravanlutian church.

Some memories of the sun setting over the Clarence River are gathered:

Joshua Slocomb has steered the good old sloop, the Spray and moored her in Fairhaven adjacent to berth where she was first launched some four years earlier – he is satisfied with his achievement – I think I need to know more about this man!

With the adventures of Joshua and the Spray now fully absorbed, we revert to a practice of our childhoods – we listen to ABC radio in the evening – we had forgotten how pleasant an experience it can be – how relaxing it is to be entertained without the flashing of colour across your eyes!

Bed at an adult hour in contrast to the children’s hour that has been our practice since I began my attempt to re-imagine the Hilton.

Our close acquaintance, the rain and wind, returns to help us sleep. The rain sings the lullaby and the wind rocks the cradle – our neighbours tell us that once the wind and the rain had gotten Bernie and I off o sleep these two elements really started to party – when we awoke it was clear that something had been going on overnight and there was evidence that the wind and rain were just going off to sleep themselves – long may they dose!

Apart from the odd moment of sleeplessness on the part of the wind there was no sign of the clouds or their produce – a delightful day spent in Yamba – sit on the rocks – watch the surfers – sit on a seat in main street and watch the tourists – 

Visit the rock pools and walk through the rainforest at Angourie – 

Look out over our lunch to the Clarence River at Harwood –

 Wander through the Iluka National Park

Talk to a young couple on holidays from Finland – “look at my leg” says he – is that a snake bite – he get my attention – two red marks close together – a quick inspection – no puncture of the skin – how long ago did it happen – about an hour ago – how are you feeling – “I feel good – great” – no tiredness – no nausea – no giddiness – “no!” - son you haven’t been bitten by a snake! – “but I looked it up on line” said he – “there are snakes that bite but cannot puncture the skin!” – I look with surprise – “what are you worried about” – at the worst you have been bitten by a snake that could not actually bite you and at the best you have not been bitten by a snake at all! – “but look at the marks” – said the wife! – “they are close together!” – eventually they are pacified and wander off!

Return to the annex to watch the interactions of the Pelican family – pecking orders are pecking orders no matter the species!

I trust that his is not a public blog for I am fearful that it may become common knowledge that I have found the last two days a pleasurable experience – I suspect that the brethren of the caravanlutian church would be the first to say “I told you so!” – “I told you - you will love it!” – All I am prepared to admit publicly is that I have gained another modicum of understanding of what may lead a person to become one of the caravanlutian brethren.

A modicum of understanding

Dinner at the salubrious Sedges Pub – imagine how decrepit a licenced premises would need to be before you would expect that the licencing authorities would call time on the licensee! – Sedges Pub looks worse- much worse than that!   It is a Pub that has left its glory days 50 years behind! – it is now a ramshackle collection of original construction and timber and fibro modifications and is the subject of a paucity of programmed maintenance – repairs are clearly only performed on items likely to fall down immediately with a slight higher priority being applied to item that may cause death to owner or patron.

Of course I exaggerate but not to an exceptional degree - at least by my standards – Sedges is positively the least inviting public house I have frequented – we rely on the advice of the receptionist at the caravan park – pretty bad from the outside but the food is good! -  we dine in the bistro – the waitress is polite and efficient although in speech and appearance she seems at home at Sedges. While we await our meal we admire the furniture in the bistro – Bunnings plastic tables and chairs with the table top disguised by the application of plastic contact suitably printed with a café motif – in the Sedges environment the result is strangely appropriate! – The receptionist was correct in her description of the exterior of Sedges but generous in her description of the quality of the fare.

While the experience of dining at Sedges will not in itself be one of your culinary highlights, it certainly would be an experience that is different, quaint and educational!

The weather remains moderate but just a little chilly to sit outside – not so for the neighbours who have their travelling associates over for dinner and significant wine in their annex just outside our window – we thought that there were two women and one man in dinner party but after about two hours of continual chatter from one male voice a second male was heard – he finally had a chance to get a word in! – could the first man talk? – Yes! – was he an authority on every conceivable conversational topic? – Absolutely! – did he like hearing the sound of his own voice? – Not sure but we are very sure he liked it much more than Bernie and I!

After the visitors depart the neighbour’s annex we sleep like logs – we arise to a pleasant day. The weather gods have judged that at least for today the clouds should not be given sole access to environment – they dictate that the clouds share it equally with the sun – it is a pleasant day that we approach slowly – a walk along the Iluka foreshore –

Collect the paper and a scone – return for morning tea – sit under our awning and admire our personal water front estate – watch the ducks invade our space – forced to concede that while this may not be the Hilton it does have very pleasant characteristics.

”What are you writing about” Bernie says – “nothing very exciting” I say – “Well there’s nothing very exciting happening” she says – “I think that is the point of this caravanning thing Bernie!”

Slow – slow – drive to Fisher’s Co-op – fish and chips –– preparation sloppy but the product fresh – nice! – to the Iluka Beach - not the highlight of Iluka –

Back to our delightful van site – sit and enjoy – photograph the pelican sentries and their fellow avians.

By 4:00 the clouds are asserting their supremacy over the sun and winds have taken on a chilly demeanour – we imagine the dedicated caravanlutians saying “don’t be silly! – don’t simply retreat to the van!” – we put on some warmer clothes and continue watching and enjoying the fishers attempting to lure tonight’ dinner onto their baited hooks.

If all days of caravanning were like this then perhaps I may be developing a modicum of understanding of and empathy with those of the caravanlutian persuasion.

---

Perhaps, just perhaps, the “Times they are a changin’”

Off for an early night – the rain? - still there but not as angry as before – I dread the morning – will the rain still be here when it is time to pack up? – I am sure Bet360 would not consider a bet against it!- relax – relax – 12 hours of sleep – arise to just a glimmer of sunshine – the spirits rise – at last a dry pack up awaits us – we approach the task with gusto – the stays are removed - the beds slide away – roof is lowered – oh hell! – the roof harbours a pond of water – the lowering is not perfectly even – a waterfall cascades down from the lowering roof – it sends a deluge onto the exposed mattress ends and upon the yet to be stowed canvas – Michael’s raised spirits are no longer raised – again he mutters loudly “I am over this!” – a terse Bernadette responds in kind “So am I!” - The remainder of the packing proceeds with hardly a word passing between them.

The magnificent Princes Highway is no longer magnificent! -  the dual carriage way replaced by a goat track peppered with kilometre after kilometre of road works broken only by the occasional short length of completed dual carriage way and short sections of old road yet to be compromised by roadworks – 80Kph is the norm for 300 kilometres from Port Macquarie to Yamba – copious use of fixed speed cameras ensure that the idiot over-takers do not inflict pain upon the other road users – the consequence is orderly traffic flow and a remarkably stress free relocation of our accommodations.

The sun has been allowed to have a modicum of influence on the weather and it smiles at us for the majority of the trip - We stop - lunch at “The Creek Café” – read our emails – we note that the readers of our blog continue to provide advice – their advice does little to cheers us – “Why, oh why are people so unkind Kamahl?” – All Trudy Whitty can contribute is advice that Wangaratta is experiencing wonderful drying weather at the moment - Appels suggests that we either get a new van or move into a hotel! – I assume therefore she means that in order to re-imagine the Hilton you actually need a “Hilton on Wheels!”- I think that indeed she may be right providing that “Hilton on Wheels” comes equipped with driver, chamber maid and concierge!

We arrive at the Iluka Riverside Tourist Park on the Clarence River – our expectations are low – we
 are expecting to tolerate the stay rather than to reap the personal rewards of a relaxing holiday - the sun is still popping in and out and the clouds are relatively high – the park is nice – nice indeed – our spot right on the Clarence River – the setup proceeds without incident save for the delays caused by the wild rabbit which is obviously use to being hand fed by the previous occupants of our site – our interest in her welfare slows our progress somewhat! – She is successful in convincing us that she should continue to be fed by the occupants of site number 16.

Out come the chairs and table – we sit under the awning looking out over the boat ramp past the Pelican that oversees the launching of the fishermen’s tinnies – clearly he is assessing the experience of each before deciding who he will accompany in their pursuit of tonight’s pan fried dinner – he watches three or four before picking his target – his avian friends obviously value his judgement for they too take up the pursuit of the targeted fisher.

This is nice – this is really nice - perhaps Bernie, just perhaps “the times they are a changin” – idiot – you speak to soon – the rain reappears – we scurry inside!

The weather ameliorates again such that providing a light umbrella accompanies you it is possible to wander outside to photograph the Pelican supervisor and the view from our easy chairs under the dubious protection of the awning erected by an inexperienced traveller.

I’m a bit over this!

 Arise to the sound of rain – not a new sound – the same old sound of rain on canvas – even the nerves of the experienced and dedicated caravanlutians next door seem to be fraying – a terse word between the partners – everything is wet - you didn’t close the car door – yes I did – no you didn’t. The sound of neighbours moving on – we can hear them saying “might as well head back to Sydney now – it is not going to get any better here today” –

We sit – we dive for the ablutions block between showers – the showers ease – perhaps they are stopped – any potential for them to stop completely is totally eliminated when Bernie hangs washing on the outside line – she re-emerges at the caravan door as the rain returns – “I think I am a bit over this!” – She says.

It will be better at Iluka! – We look up the weather forecast - we are not happy campers!

We remember the advice of the experienced campers – “you must learn to relax” they said – we settle down – more writing – more needlework – more absorbing the exploits of Joshua Slocomb – he has now left Australia and waxing lyrical about the Keeling and Cocos Islands.

The departing caravanlutians were both right and wrong in their forecast of the intentions of the weather gods – the clouds remained the favourite of the weather gods and they were allowed empty their bladders as they saw fit! – The clouds were however gracious enough to provide a modicum of warning to the mortals below enabling us to sneak a look at the Anzac march, exercise a quick stroll around the retail centre of Port Macquarie, visit the town beaches and drive around the streets of inner Port Macquarie.

What is that? – The Charles Sturt University campus in Port Macquarie – another testament to the irrationality that can sometimes result from the deliberations of otherwise rational minds.

The high winds then transported in a set of clouds that had spent an evening of alcohol fuelled debauchery which had clearly overcharged their bladder – we headed for sanctuary of the van – I am a bit over this!

Barb Strand’s advice echoes in my head again - “you must learn to relax!” – We try again – more needlework – the needlework is set aside – the iPad disgorges the news of the world, the trivia of Facebook community, and the pins of Pinterest - the personal email communications of friends intermixed with unsolicited communications from every entity with which we have ever had a commercial transaction – for some reason or other we cannot be bothered to find the unsubscribe link at the bottom of their electronic missives – we promise ourselves we will do it later!

Joshua Slocomb reaches the Rodriquez Islands – he feels like his privations are almost over!

The Osprey of West Haven

The weather ameliorates just in time – clean, dampish clothes are acquired – we head off – first to Bunnings – it would be useful to acquire some appropriate pieces of timber to replace the lid of the storage container under the table seat adjacent to my bunk! – getting into bed last night my left foot had imposed the full weight of my body upon the ageing particle board and the two had agreed to let one another past – it would be useful also to acquire some suitable exterior mats to limit the migration of dirt and grass remnants from shoe to floor – while the necessary acquisitions were being made the good tradespeople of Port Macquarie congratulated us upon the weather that we had brought with us to their fair city – we smile and agree -


Off we head the 50 kilometres or so south to West Haven enjoying the improving demeanour of the weather – in fact we rediscovered the sun after some considerable time – while people in Albury may well be familiar with it I should say that it was much as I remembered it – roundish, glaringly bright and in its present mood, gently warming – unfortunately the weather gods quickly moved their cloud troops into place and the sun was banished behind a moderate veil – a veil just transparent enough to let the inhabitants of the mid north coast know it existed but sufficiently opaque to render its existence of little comfort to them.

We arrive at West Haven – we sit with our good friend Ian in his dining room looking out through a wall of large bay windows past tall trees across his lake frontage to Queens Lake – we watch his Osprey friends endeavour to replace their season’s nest torn apart by a recent storm – this being their 6^th season in the immediate area, the seasonal storms have gradually reduced the number of dead branch sites on healthy trees that the Osprey prize for nest building – the sites that remain are either on an impossible flightpath from the water or are so small that the deposition of the sticks they use for nest building is practically impossible – they try and they try and they try – they execute wide arcs of graceful flight over the lake trailing sticks of 400 or 500mm grasped tightly in their talons only to land and attempt the balancing of their cargo on their chosen site – as soon as they place it, the stick falls to the ground – they head off again and repeat their endeavours over and over again – Like Ian we feel sorry for them – Ian worries that they will never be successful and may have to migrate away from this narrow territory commanded by his bay windows – “they had this problem last year” he says – “I hired an arborist to come in and place some dead branch segments in the tree and fashion them to provide some nesting sites” – “the arborists was excited about doing it” – “as he was up there the Osprey couple flew past seemingly acknowledging what he was trying to do for them” – “I am not sure if I should doing it again this year” - he says – “perhaps I should just let nature take its course!”

Ian takes us up to join the long weekend tourists at the lookout on North Brother Mountain in the Dooragan National Park only a few kilometres from the lake. We look out from North Brother towards his Middle Brother and his South Brother the three so named by Jimmy Cook so long ago – we move a little and look back over Laurieton and its surrounds – spectacular – what a delightful place to live! 

We return to sit at the bay windows again – Ian has not lost any of his skills either as a dining host or as a raconteur.

Time flies – follow Ocean Drive back to Port Macquarie – dine with our sister in law – catch up on old times – wonderful!