Day 2 of the Adventure

I tuck into bed at the end of day one content in the belief that at least the weather was clement and that I was destined for a comfortable and enjoyable night’s sleep – Alas last night was freezing – why would anyone want to go caravanning? – Jenny Dow - you were right! - Clearly you must have an electric blanket or you must wear so many night clothes that the stays designed to support the slide out beds of any camper van would yield simply at the prospect of having to support you and your winter woollies.

I wake in the middle of the night – I am freezing – I complain loud and long – “I hate this bloody caravanning” – I say – “I’m freezing” - I repeat over and over again not expecting any sympathy or solace from my partner – true to her wont and nature she applies her beaney to my head and my socks to my feet – I roll up in the doona and tolerate the night.

I wake again – the sun is beginning to shine – the determination to cease this travelling experiment which reached its peak around mid-night seems to be dissipating – I am now suggesting to myself that giving up after one day would not be appropriate and in any event may cause such a mood of joviality among the bike riding community that some may lose concentration and distribute parts of themselves along the bituminous pavements of the environs of Barnawartha – I steel myself for day two of an excursion without the assistance of a concierge and room service.

I test the caravan park’s ablution facilities – while in themselves they are adequate nowhere to be found are the complimentary toiletries, towels and bathmats considered mandatory in any of the higher forms of traveller accommodations – I steel myself again – you must give this a red-hot go! – I am forced to steel myself again as I strive to dress in the shower cubicle annex that has been effectively drenched by the wayward shower head.

I return to the van – I struggle to raise the seats to access the cache of clothes that rest comfortably below them – “I hate this Bernie – I really hate this” – “Mike maybe we need a different kind of van”- she senses that a change of topic might be appropriate – I sense that I need to steel myself again.

The van is readied for transit faster, much faster than it was readied for its stationary duties – I leave it to contemplate the miseries it has inflicted upon me – funny Bernie does not seem to agree – for her last night was not freezing and the accommodations exceeded her expectations. As the van sits alone in the Cowra Van Park we visit the sights of Cowra that are important not only to the people of Cowra but also the nation of Japan.

The Japanese gardens are stunning but the small theatre presentation at the Cowra Visitors Centre with a hologram of a local girl as the presenter is extraordinary in its simplicity and effectiveness – time flies!

Mudgee calls us – we return to the van – she looks quite pleased with herself – we give her the once over – she looks ready for travel – “I am a bit worried about that clip that restrains the front right corner of the van Bernie” – we study it – we reduce the pressure on it – “it should be Ok” says I optimistically”.

We check our email – A note from Barb Strand – she concludes it with some comment that roughly translated meant – “enjoy your time but don’t expect any sympathy from established caravaners when things go awry!” -

As we head towards Canowindra I mull over Barb’s comments – what does she mean? – does she mean! – I thought the frequenters of modern day caravanesi were a sympathetic and compassionate community – clearly not! – “put those thoughts aside Michael!” – onwards we go  -  towing these vans is easy – look in the rear vision mirror – “what the hell!!!” – the clip on the van roof has failed – canvas billows from the side - the front corner of roof attempts to takes it place in heaven – an immediate roadside stop is executed – oh dam! – how will we deal with this problem – a piece of rope is retrieved from our stores – with the help of the leverage provided by liberal doses of truckies hitches the front of the van roof is returned to its stowed position and effectively restrained against any further misadventure – “I hate this caravanning thing Bernie” – I bet even this latest mishap will not solicit even a hint of sympathy from those who looked me in the eye in the days before this adventure began and told me “you will love it!”

Onwards through Canowindra to Cudal, Molong, Gulgong to Mudgee. The country impressive and beautiful but dry - dry – dry – the winds present themselves to the naked eye by picking up the dry brown soil and presenting it as willy-willies – the sheep have light brown coats – as they move they stir up small clouds of dust which the winds then carry away and deposit on the coats of their ovine counterparts such that the colour of their coats match those of the dust initiators – in spite of the dust the country still has occasional tinges of green – one could only imagine how magnificent it would appear either in Spring or after a normal autumn break – stubble is being burnt and land prepared – clearly the land owners are anxious for the autumn break to arrive sooner rather than later.

Check those mirrors - the van roof remains stowed – what else is going to go wrong – as it turns out nothing further does eventuate and soon Mudgee is reached. Again I look enviously at the some of the Hiltonesq accommodations as we head for the caravanserai – I am making at least some progress as this time the mooring is achieved without incident and van set up in less than 40 minutes – a long time but half the time taken on day one.

We are to meet old friends John and Brigid who are now long-time residents of Mudgee for dinner – yesterday’s experience of caravanesi ablution facilities meant that my techniques for ensuring that those possessions that were intended to get wet in fact got wet and those items not intended to get wet remained dry – fundamental to the strategy was to ensure that there were as few items in the latter category as a respectable human could tolerate.

We greet our friends – they have not changed a bit in 15 years – still delightful people who have taken to Mudgee like a duck to water – a small, beautiful, delightful, liberal, friendly place they say – as we walk down the street and into the restaurant the locals display all of the traits that have attracted our friends to the town – a delightful night commenced in a Thai Restaurant and completed in Roff’s wine bar and a cursory inspection of the van – “Oh Michael - it is much better than you described” – we will meet for breakfast at John’s café and art gallery in the morning.