joshannon

[joshannon]

Flashes of colour filled the air.

I felt so happy. My friends, one of the most delicious Laksa’s of my life, a fresh lime and mint juice and a colourful sky.

I was zapped back to reality when a group of girls below screamed and started running straight towards us in a fit of giggles.

NT day is like no other-and we had a hall of fireworks of our own.

It was wild, dangerous, noisy and exhilarating. Fireworks were everywhere and I could almost guarantee it was just a matter of time before one of us got hit.

The boys played with fireworks - letting them off one by one. Huddling away from the breeze to get it alight. Then dropping it and running. This went on for about 2 hours before they’d cleaned out the entire of J’s stash.

And just as I thought we’d gotten away without any trouble, one of the fireworks went rogue and swung our direction- scaring us all into nervous giggles.

Except for L who got the fright of her life and kept saying

“It got me right down to my bones”. (It didn’t)

[joshannon]

The motorised chair with little orange flag whipped past us leaving a trail of dust.

“ I’ve got a perfect spot for ya” said the guy, larger than life with a gigantic grin on his face.

We’d made it to the Daily Waters pub. So many people had told us not to miss it and the minute we walked into the pub I could see why.

“Mum look at all those bra’s on the roof.” L had said.

I looked up the man on the chair cruised in a horse following him.

“ Have you ever seen a horse in a pub” I said to L.

Her eyes opened wide and she screeched.

“There’s a horse in the pub, there’s a horse in the pub”

[joshannon]

He reminded me of one of this lizards L had her hand. He was scrawny looking, seen a fair bit of sun in his time, looked like he’d had neither a shave or a feed for weeks.

Bare footed, and his skinny arms showing some signs of some homemade tats, he wore a dark blue station shirt that had been ripped off at his shoulders. It was hard to read him, but I could see a little grin and his eyes sparkle when he grabbed the snake out of the tank and landed it on the lap of some kid who was packing his pants.

We’d made it to Little Ropper stock camp. We’d come for the Materanka springs, but stayed for the freedom, joy and the dirt at the camp. Laney was having the time of her life playing in the haybales.

It was like watching free range chickens, only they were children and each has been passed a lizard, crocodile or snake and we’re literally just out in the bush playing with them.

“This is madness” I said to Brett.

“No it’s the outback” Brett reminded me as I looked at L’s grotty face lit up with absolute joy as she was handed a baby crocodile with its mouth trapped together with an elastic band.

[joshannon]

“Why is it called the Devils Marbles?” Said L.

“Maybe the Devil was playing a game of marbles here”

“Oh… where’s the Devil now? Will we see him?” L replied a little bit of worry in her voice.

“ No darling he left”

“Why did he leave?”

“ Maybe he was playing a game of Marbles with an angel and lost so he ran away”

“Do the angel is still here then?”

“ I don’t know darling” I sighed. “Let’s see if we can find her.”

[joshannon]

“ He reckons the ute had petrol mixed in with the deisel, but that’s not possible. I’m sure I’ve only put petrol in ”

I sat in tears at the prospect that it was going to cost $18k for the new motor, or $8-10k plus the couple of days of labour for a second hand one. Even then he couldn’t promise it would work.

That was a gigantic chuck of our savings- a quarter of our trip stuck in Alice without a car. There really wasn’t a month worth of things to do in Alice.

I’d gone through all the options.

A hire car was going to cost us a couple of thousand a week and would mean we couldn’t do any off-roading.

We could wait, get it fixed here, lose the 12k minimum and risk it still not working.

We could buy a new ute with our savings, ship the ute back to dad who was likely to find a cheeper motor and save us a few grand in putting it in.

We decided to go for the later. Figuring resale value was reasonable, we’d gain back a quarter of our trip and maybe just maybe we’d get the ute covered on insurance given we had the receipts to prove we put diesel in the car.

We had luck on our side. There was one ute that fit my Dads very specific instructions in all of Alice. It hadn’t even been listed yet and had been owned by the Local land council so fitted out with much of what we needed. A canopy, long range tank, reverse camera, second battery.

L called it Cobber (though her first name choice was Dick which we refused) and we picked it up a day later and hit the road the following day.

Edit note: It turned out to be the right decision. Once the ute arrived home, the insurance company sent it to another mechanic it turns out we didn’t need an entire motor and instead got a bill of $2.5 grand- so with the cost of shipping it home- not quite as badly out of pocket.

[joshannon]

Diary of a grey nomad in Alice

Monday

Every grey nomad on the street (in caravan park) watches the tow company bring our caravan to the site.

None offer to help as I cart our 5 containers of stuff (from the ute) from the front office at least 2ks away. But all make comments that were moving a house by hand.

Tuesday

One grey nomad ( let’s call him town crier) gets/makes the opportunity to ask us why we don’t have a car and proceeds to tell every other grey nomad on the street.

Wednesday

Every grey nomad on the street approaches one by one tells us that’s a bugger about what happened with our car and asks us what are we planning to do about it.

Each nomads offer up what could have been wrong with ute

Not one grey offers to take us to the supermarket which would have been quite helpful given we had no food and no way of getting into town.

Thursday

Most grey nomads hear my crying to my parents on the phone and don’t come near us for fear they will upset me.

Friday

After purchasing a new (to us) second hand car we drive in to caravan park with dealership car and all grey nomads on the street talk about what they think is a hire car with no tow bar.

Town crier asks us if we have a hire car.

That grey nomad then tells everyone on the street we purchased a new ute.

Saturday

Every grey nomad inspects new ute when we are not at our camp site go to swimming pool.

Sunday

Every grey nomad offers opinion about what needs to be done to the new car before we leave.

Town crier offers to help, we decline but he loiters anyway telling us we are doing everything wrong as we ( read B) connect the solar, put in the fridge draw, connect the second battery..

Monday

grey nomads create guard of honour as we drive out of caravan park.

( note: stacks of grey nomads stuck in Alice Springs because Katherine and Darwin in lock down and SA put a 14 day rule on those entering SA. We met many brilliant brilliant grey nomads on this trip- I think we just struck gold at Alice)

[joshannon]

Stuck

“ What do we do?” Said B who had just told me that he thinks the power steering had gone dead in the ute.

“No idea, I’ll ring Dad” I replied, cursing this damn ute which had been nothing but trouble since we got it.

You’d think by the time you are 35 you wouldn’t have to ring your Dad every time something goes wrong, but it was first of many phone calls to him over the week that followed.

And he was patient with us. Walking through what things should look like/do etc. His instructions were get to the nearest petrol station quick and put some steering fluid in.

But of course when we got there it was closed.

It was 5pm and we were in the middle of Hermansberg. The home of Albert Namatjira. We’d just been to visit the mission. Ate the scones. Saw the art.

The petrol station looked as though it hadn’t been opened for a year.

“What should we do” B asked me again for the second time that day.

I really wasn’t sure. We’d crossed about 20 burnt out cars coming in, and it was getting late. Alice Springs was about 150k down the road- if we were lucky we’d make it there.

But of course we didn't.

About 20k out of town the car stopped dead. There was next to no reception. It was hot and there were flies. Gross. I was grateful for the water we’d packed, L being in a pretty good mood that day, and for the one bar of reception B could get when he stood atop the caravan.

Listening to him curse as his phone dropped out of service for the 10th phone call. Him getting angrier and angrier about them passing him on, L told me “ wow Dad is grumpy today Mum”. He had finally been told that someone would be with us in an hour and half and he slumped into the car next me with 3 Zoopper doopers.

That hour and a half passed, I’d made us salami and cheese sandwiches for tea, and we’d waved off a few nice couples who had pulled up to see if we were ok.

But it had started to get dark, and no one had collected us. Then a small bit of reception found it’s way to us and a message had popped up to call them back.

They couldn’t find someone to collect us until Monday. Monday. It was Saturday night…

“ I’m not leaving my car and van here on the side of the road until monday. I drove past so many burnt out cars on the side of the road on the way here and we are a long way from a town. I have a 3 year old girl. It’s dark. It’s too dangerous here on the side of the road to set up for the night, and as we waited thinking you’d have someone with us an hour ago we let every car that could have been a help to us pass. This is not good enough- why do we pay for roadside assistance if you can’t help us for 2 days?

They had told B they’d keep trying and would call back- but by this stage I’d called dad and he’d told us not to wait any longer.

“What do we do?” B asked for the 3rd time that day.

We called the first towing company that came up in the Google search. If I’m honest I’m not even sure how B wrangled enough reception to do a Google search- but the first one we called said “sure think we’ll be there in an hour and a half”.

Sure enough the guy, Benny was his name, arrived in the pitch black. He moved at an impressive speed lifting the ute onto the back of the truck then attaching the tow bar of the van. We climbed into his cab relieved and tired. It was 10pm.

But this wasn’t our only trouble for the night. The caravan park we booked would not have someone there after hours to let us tow the caravan to our site and all of the other caravan parks were full ( we knew that from trying to book earlier). We convinced one of the parks to give us a cabin for the night and leave the keys out for us. The kind people at the towing company would lock up our van for the night, tow the car to a mechanic and bring the van back the next day.

We slumped into bed that night exhausted but safe.

( pictures of Albert Namatjira’s house and the Main Street of the Hermansberg Community)

[joshannon]

I don’t know where she found this new desire to climb but I was glad she had became a billy goat and we didn’t have to drag her up and down the canyon.

Today was a good day.

Kings canyon

[joshannon]

Instantly I cursed the 16 year old me that chose not to embed this place into my long term memory.

I was one of those lucky teenagers who’s parents packed us up, along side my best friends family,and took us up the middle of Australia.

But I was 16 maybe 17, a petulant teenager and for some reason my memories are limited to the John Williamson Family album, not being allowed to walk around at night, an underground church and a pool in a tin shed.

As I stood there looking up at Uluru with my chin about to hit the red dirt underneath me I cursed again.

What was I thinking. This is bloody amazing.

The big rock stood in front of me, and left me breathless and for a moment I forgot everything around me and my eyes welled with the tears from how magic it was and how lucky we were to be here. In this sacred place. One steeped in culture snd tradition and history and magnificance.

Uluru.

The place L had been talking about for 6 months since we told her what we were planning to do.

And in that moment I looked across at B & L standing beside me also silent. Also with ridiculous grins on our faces.

Next minute L starts singing.

“ We’re at the heart of the nation, we’re at the heart of the nation”

We’d made it to the NT and could finally start to enjoy ourselves.

[joshannon]

I felt sick in the gut.

Our next 4 months were relying on this very moment.

B rolled the window down as the man in the uniform approached and we scurried to put our masks on.

I looked over at the car clock.

9.45pm.

We should have crossed the border 45 minutes ago.

“F@&$k” I thought in my head.

B reminds me it’s technically only 8.15pm in South Australia

I’d fretted every minute of the last 45 minutes, thinking that there was police hidden at every corner to tell us to turn back, to the point of driving B bonkers and making myself sick with worry.

“Can I see your border passes please?”

Thoughts of the Handmaidens tale flashed my mind as I scrolled through my emails to find the passes, and he told us how lucky we were to have them fast tracked so quickly.

He then proceeded to roll through the list of things we couldn’t do- be in South Australia for longer than 72 hours, stop in Adelaide or Cooper Peedy for longer than an hour, no restaurants only takeaway and only roadside camping, always wear a mask.

“ Even in the car?” I asked.

“Even the car, and now your right to go. Safe travel guys”

I let out a huge sigh of relief.

Either he hadn’t heard that Vic was in lock down, or he just didn’t care. Either way I was relieved. One border down, one to go.

[joshannon]

“Turn it up”

I reach over and turn up the radio as the news plays.

“At 8pm tonight all Victorians are going into lockdown. Daniel Andrew’s called a snap lockdown this afternoon at 4pm shortly after his cabinet meeting, with a further 40 covid cases today”

I look at the clock.

It’s only 4.30 and we literally have been in the car for 45 minutes.

I quickly pull out my phone and look at google maps.

“It’s going to be quicker if we go through at Mount Gambier, we’re still going to struggle but it could be the only option we’ve got. There’s no chance of Mildura now”

“Ok- too easy,”said B.

But it wasn’t really. We’d be cutting it fine- and we both knew it.

The day had been a whirlwind.

We arrived at B’s parents to fix up some things on the van and say goodbye to everyone properly given we’d escaped to the country for the previous lockdown without saying proper goodbyes. We’d packed up our house in such a hurry that we’d forgotten a few things and thought we’d have a few days to get it all sorted.

We’d spent the morning applying for permits thinking there was a chance they’d take a few days to come through for both NT and WA before we left. But they came through almost instantly and with rumours speculating on the radio we’d made a call to take off as soon as we could.

Covid had been making things tricky - we’d spent a little over a week travelling regional victoria, but I was getting nervous we’d land somewhere inadvertently and be locked in a quarantine in the cold and I was desperate to get north.

[joshannon]

“Do you think there’s a chance that the caravan roof will rip right off” I said, trying not to let the panic creep in too much.

140kph winds in the middle of the night at Wilson Prom in a Jaco Dove pop top camper is not for the faint hearted.

[joshannon]

“What’s that noise” I said to B.

Something was dragging along the dirt outside.

“ I don’t know” he said and kept on doing whatever it was he was he was doing, without giving any thought to what I said.

“No really- I think there’s someone out there stealing our stuff .”

It was freezing outside so I reluctantly fling the caravan door open, which of course catches on the wind.

I struggled to get my head touch on, pushing the button over and over until it finally streamed out across the darkness. Towards a wombat.

A wombat dragging L’s snack pocketed chair along the dirt.

[joshannon]

She’d just sled down the gentle snow slope in mixture of pure horror and joy and I was enjoying seeing her flushed with the excitement of it all.

“This is the best day ever she said” as her father and I dragged her up the slope for the 15th time- already wrecked and having convinced her this is the last one before a break.

“I’ll have a hot coco thanks” she declared to the man behind the bench with her chest puffed out in the red coat of hers and wet pink gloves she had.

I giggle thinking she wouldn’t even know what a coco is. Must have been something she’d heard in a movie about snow. Probably Frozen if I were to wage a bet.

He must have been at least 60, had a long beard and a beanie- but looked fit and tanned like he’d been skiing the slopes his whole life.

“Most children don’t know what cocoa is” he said to her echoing my thoughts exactly.

“ They usually ask for a hot chocolate. Did you know they are pretty much the same thing? ”

“Yeah I know” she said nonchalantly.

No matter the difference. She didn’t drink it as usual- due to complete distraction of making a snow man.

She did eat her pink marshmallow though.

Of course.

[joshannon]

Hello possum

As L walked into the shop his eyes lit up the way that most people’s do when they spot a chatty little girl with curly hair.

He was a tall man, but hunched over and had to be at least 80, and he had kindness written all over the wrinkles in his face as he watched her do as I imagine most kids would- light up with excitement about the treasures lining his walls.

We’d only been on the road for 2 days, but B had been battling the interior light in the ute in that time, and finally the ute had won and blown enough fuses and globes that we needed to go get more. I told him I’d walk up the street and would meet him at the mechanics.

We’d stopped at the gorgeous vintage sweet shop, and for a bush wee (of course no bushes or toilets to be found in a hurry so that was fun), but it wasn’t until we got up the driveway and I spotted the vintage RACV cars that I thought ‘oh maybe this wasn’t a mechanics after all but instead a museum’.

As B flung open the door with a grin on his face L was totally distracted by what could only be thousands of cars and trucks and diggers lined up along the shelves.

B and the man chatted about fuse and globes and the man shuffled about tinkering with containers he could barely open with his beat up old hands.

L pushed past B as he walked outside to give the fistful of fuses and globes a try, and I could see her little brain ticking over about which to touch first.

Just as she lifted her hand and I’d spat out “Don’t touch things” he stepped out from behind the desk and said:

“Hello possum” with the kind of joy in his eyes of an old grandpa with a grand child.

She snapped her head around proudly replying:

“My Dad calls me that”

His wrinkly face lit up with total joy- I could tell that one sentence had just made his vistor-less (thanks to Covid) month.

“Well does he now. You see most little girls say ‘I’m not a possum’ and tell me their names. Because you see I don’t know most little people’s names so I call them possum, but it looks like this time I got it right”.

“My name is actually Laney. Did you know possums only come out at night?” She replied matter of factly.

I could see him chuckle and L looks back at me asking if she could have one of the lollies she just bought at the shop. I told her to make sure you ask the man if he wants one first and she waltzed right up to him, shoving the bag up to his face.

“ You want one of these lollies?”

“Well I might take this one for my wife who is at home and will have been sad not to meet you today” he replied with a smile riffling through the bag.

“I think she’d like this purple one if that’s ok”

“Sure” L said digging out a pink one for herself.

As we leave I notice L poking faces at him through the window.

I want to keep this memory- little kindnesses and interactions shared back and forth between strangers is what makes travelling so magical.

And wouldn’t you know it, when we got home that evening in the dark after the day of exploring, a little possum makes it way right to Laney as if to say “ where’s my treat?”.

[joshannon]

Cuba 🇨🇺

[joshannon]

I couldn’t scream, L was asleep in the room beside me, but I’m sure the cold wet thing on my bum wasn’t a delayed splash back from the toilet I was sitting on.

After hesitation, and a quick wipe of my bits I looked down in the bowl.

I let out a little squeal. A quiet, don’t wake the baby type of squeal. An I really don’t have the right to be scared sort of squeal. A that frog just touched my butt type of squeal.

I’d been pretty prepared for our trip. After years of travelling so light we gave in and travelled with a suitcase instead of a backpack and lugged around a months supply of everything knowing full well that luxuries like nappies, wipes and baby food would be hard to come by in Cuba. I had packed everything from L’s little baby swag tent, her travel pram, toys to mosquito repellent.

But there was nothing that could prepare us for the competition that was about to commence over the coming days.

Frogs Vs humans.

I didn’t expect frogs to be one of my most memorable elements of  Cuba. Old American cars maybe, the music yes and even Fidel Castro and Communism (not that I dared to say that to the officials when they asked) but not once did little green frogs hidden in toilet bowls spring to mind. Or in the sink. Or creeping through the shutters of the bathroom.

I also wasn’t expecting our daily giggle fits as we clumsily tried to catch them as they hoped into every dark and hard to reach corner of our bathroom. Nor how inventive we would get trying to pick them up to put them back outside without squishing them. Only to wake up the next morning to two little beady eyes staring back at me from the pale green porcelain toilet seat.