Life’s a beach

To celebrate 2 months on the road we decided to have a holiday.
You know? To get away from it all…

There’s this cheap, council owned, camp ground at Parry Beach, near Denmark W.A.


While Queensland was flooding, & Sydney was stinking (in the mid 40’s), we were kicking back under a peppermint grove, fishing during the day & listening to the boys dribble shit sitting around the camp fire at night.
Apparently we missed John Butler, & the other two, by about a week. Damn.
I would have much preferred to listen to him.

It was BYO power supply & the solar showers were nice & warm if you had one at midday before all the little turds got in there to run the hot water dry. But at $10 a night, it was well worth the 6/7 cold showers I had. I rate it 3 pubes.
You could reduce your camping fees by volunteering to do jobs like cleaning the BBQ, general maintenance, or scrubbing the toilet blocks.

Instead we coughed up the dough.

Laithe was too busy fishing, & there isn’t a rubber glove long enough to see me through that last job.

We had a tip off (no pun intended) that the Tip Shop in Denmark could produce some winning items.
Santa, stupid prick that he is, didn’t listen to me when I said “That bike will be too big for her”. She got on it, freaked out, then stomped off saying she was “…NEVER GOING TO RIDE IT AGAIN! EVER!”
So when we found this beauty there for 8 bucks, everyone was excited.
Especially Pony.


She spent the whole week riding up & down the road, in & out of other peoples camp sites, perfecting her “skiddies”.
From her tyres. Not her undies. She perfected those ones years ago.

The place was craaaawling with kids on bikes, & kids playing cricket, & kids climbing trees, & kids getting up before the sun, & kids playing games well into the night, & kids at the beach, & kids covered in sand & dirt & snot, & kids using all the hot water, & kids leaving floaters in the toilets, & kids screaming at ANY HOUR OF THE DAY & NIGHT.
And that was just the one family.

Georgie made a couple of friends.
Then cried desperately when they left before we did.

Emerson made himself at home in anyone’s camp.
If you look remotely like a grandparent, anyone’s grandparent, ACHTUNG.
I still maintain that they shouldn’t have camped within 100 meters that close.
He walks around now, with his hands in his pockets, tipping his hat at people with a quick “Howyagoin’”.
If only he could wink.
He spent the week smelling of the camp fire & the bait bucket, with sand in his bed, dirt under his fingernails, & filthy black feet.
You can imagine my disgust.

We decided to start letting Georgie stay up later than him, because she is older & doesn’t lose her shit if she doesn’t get 18 hours sleep a night.
It didn’t go down so well.


Parry Beach Camp Ground was also the place that Laithe had the most frightening experience of his life.
Besides our wedding of course.

He shook me awake in the middle of the night.
It seemed his left nut had had a spontaneous, fast flowing, venous bleed & my nursing skills were required URGENTLY.
Like all good nurses, I barely raised an eyebrow. I definitely might have laughed at some point.
I had a look & said “Well what do you want me to do about it? Bandage your nut? I’m not touching it! Apply your own goddam pressure!” And then I went back to bed.
After 20 minutes of pressure & 3 band-aids later so did he.
Laithe claims that he did NOTHING vigorous that might induce bleeding, he simply woke up feeling like he’d wet the bed then proceeded to bleed all over the floor while he fumbled around for the light switch.
I would have it noted that I was 100% ASLEEP at the time of the bleed, with no instruments, blunt or sharp, on my person or in my vicinity.

Maybe it had something to do with the microwave?


Just down the road from Parry’s, or at the other end of the beach, is Green’s Pool.


I want one.
It was beautiful.
The water was so clear.
This is where the lucky little local kids get to learn to swim! They had vacation swimming classes on while we were there.
Laithe & Georgie went for a snorkel, while Emerson dug a hole.
Sure beats the Richmond Pool.
By the time we left it was lunchtime & Mr Whippy was in the car park RAKING it in.

So after 7 days of this…


this…



this…



this…


and this…



… it was time to get moving again.


What have I learnt so far?

• I can wash, rinse, repeat and shave my legs in about 30 seconds worth of water.                                                             Apologies for your old water bills Dad.

• Wearing the same clothes 4 2 days in a row is totally fine, just as long as you can’t smell yourself.

• I really need a haircut.

         It’s gone faaaar beyond just poking in back under my swimmers.

• All it takes is one little bleed & everyone’s a drama queen.

I hope everyone involved in the storms/floods/fires/& heat are doing ok. We’ve been really lucky so far.

I’m with you rain or shine.

 

So, in 2 days time, its our official ‘on the road’ anniversary.

Technically we were ‘off the road’ for a few weeks there while we were in Albany, but we’ve still been together TWENTYFOUR HOURS A DAY, SEVEN DAYS A WEEK.

It’s been… ah?… Character building.

I’ve had to learn restraint, that’s for sure.

You know when you want to punch someone fair in the face give someone a good piece of your mind?

Restraint.

Or when the symphony of sleep going on around you is ANYTHING but soothing & you just want to give everyone the Tontine treatment stomp out & sleep on the grass?

Restraint. 

DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY TIMES I’VE COUNTED BACKWARDS FROM 10!!!

 

*wipes away the frothy spittle, takes deep breath, rubs twitchy eye, puts hair back in place, & continues on like a completely normal person*

 

We’ve been really quite lucky, considering Mother Nature’s lithium levels have been all to cock since we left Perth.

We’ve had heaps of sunny days, a bit of rain, and SHITLOAD of wind either way.

When it’s good, it’s good. We go to the beach, or out on the boat fishing or crabbing.

  

 

And when it’s shit, we do indoorsy things or just drive around & see what we can see.

 

 

Actually, we drive around ALOT.

There’s so much land out here in the Great Southern WA. You can drive for hours & not see another car. There are dirt tracks & sand tracks going off in every direction.

Laithe likes to drive them all. Just to see where they go.

Today we did just that.

Drove around in the rain on loads of tracks. Just to see where they went.

We got off to a slow start.

It took us about half an hour to get 200m because Laithe had to stop 6 times. Twice to find & fix the real (or imagined) rattling sounds coming from inside, no, outside, no, inside the car. And 4 times to pee because he’d had a coffee AND a tea this morning.   *eye roll*

 

The scenery was beautiful.

Isolated. No phone service. Wet & windy. But beautiful.

Despite the beauty, I always drive along these types of tracks thinking “I wonder how many bodies they’d find out here if they went looking?”

It’s such dense bushland. 4X4 access only. A husband person could go missing in a shallow grave not 2 meters off the track & never be found again. Ever.

 

Is this not the creepiest looking ‘Shack of Death’?

 

We found a couple of them today.

   

The fridge where they keep the body parts?

The comfy cot where they tie their victims?

 

Or maybe you’d prefer to share with this guy?

 

Even though I only rate their bathrooms 4 Pubes, I’d rather stay here thanks.

Without the snakes.

It’s Rest Point Holiday Village, Walpole.

 

The place is awesome. Crabbing, fishing, nice jetty, great family place.

But the ablutions are yuck. There’s so much iron in their water it smells like you’re bathing in blood &, if you head into the Ladies, there is actual blood smeared on the wall! I just close my eyes, hum a little ditty, & think of a happy place (filled with Domestos & white tiles)while I hover as best I can. 

 

What have I learned so far?

• I might just need respite from my family a job.

 

• I need to get a catheter pack & some leg bags for Laithe… who is still alive & well… just to clarify.

 

• I should never have watched Wolfe Creek. My imagination needs NO encouragement.                                                             And John Jarrets gone completely down hill since he & Noni split up.

 

• The kids, dare I say it, seem to be getting better in the car. Even when they aren’t having snacks shoved at them left, right, & centre.

 

• Showing restraint sucks balls. Rain or shine. Specially when you live with the King of Sweeping Statements!

 

 

 

#Note: For any readers that perhaps aren’t Nurses, the ‘Tontine Treatment’ involves a pillow being placed gently over the face until the FUCKING INCESSANTLY ANNOYING NOISES STOP!

Serious business.

When I was a kid, our neighbours had a brown toilet that I refused to use.
Because it was brown.
And therefore, dirty.

When Laithe & I did the Kokoda Track in 2006, I didn’t shit for TEN DAYS.
No way was my bum going to make contact with those “toilets” for anything longer than a wee.
I joked with the girls at work, before I left, that I’d catheterise myself so I wouldn’t even have to pee. 

Joking? Yes. Yes, of course I was…

The fact that I no longer have a toilet to clean means that I’m now using public/holiday park toilets and showers all the time.
This isn’t new to me. I did a lot of camping with my family when I was a kid, & like I said… Kokoda.
But given that I have a raging slight “issue” with germs of the general public variety, and my thighs no longer allow me to hover like they used to, I thought I’d comment on the amenities we’ve encountered so far.

As a “Lady” (yes, I’m using the term VERY loosely), I know I’m not alone in thinking that there’s not a whole lot worse than trying to go for a quick tinkle only to stumble in & find a WHOPPING GREAT PUBE sitting on the toilet seat, blinking back at you.

You stand there staring at one another while you try to work out an appropriate course of action.

Hysterical screaming is not really an option.

Nor is growing a penis so you don’t need to sit at all.

Instead you step back and blow at it from a distance or try & flap it away with your hands, but that disgusting little blighter is stuck fast in a tiny little pissy puddle on the seat and you KNOW you’re gonna have to…. *gulp*….. wipe it away.
Excuse me while a go have a little vomit into my mouth…….

I don’t care for pubes. Slap some wax on & get rid of the lot for all I care.

That said, I’ve decided to give a 1-5 Pube rating of the facilities we have & will encounter. ‘5 Pubes’ being the worst rating one could possibly achieve, right up to the coveted & very exclusive ‘Golden Pube Club’. My standards are pretty high. I’m not sure anyone will make the cut.

So lets do it.

First stop- Bungalow 410, Rottnest Island- 2 Pubes. The toilet & showers were outside the bungalow, but were private & nice & clean.

Second stop- Estuary Hideaway Holiday Park, Mandurah- 3 Pubes. Everything was really tidy but if you’re taller than 4ft or your waste circumference is greater than 80cm, you’ll struggle to actually fit in the showers.

I also can’t forgive what their bore water did to my white shorts!

Third stop- Koombana Bay Holiday Park, Bunbury- 2 Pubes. This place was great. It is a Big 4 so they kinda have standards. But I did have a couple of HORRIFYING encounters with several pubic hairs.
Someone must have been moulting.

Fourth stop- Tauntun Farm Holiday Park, Cowaramup- 2 Pubes. I LOVED this place.
I still wouldn’t walk in the bathroom without shoes on, & they only had 1 out of 4 good showerheads, but there were cut flowers on the bathroom bench everyday. A nice touch.

Fifth stop- Alexandra Bridge Camp Ground, near Karridale off the Brockman Hwy-
ummm… I’m going to give it 4 Pubes.

It was what it was.

There were no showers to clean, just 2 flushing toilets. Without lights.
We started out bathing like this…


…but upgraded the next day to this…


The grounds keeper did come around every day or so to slop some Dettol about.
That mixed with the smell of man shit made for a deee-lightful morning wakeup. Eau de toilette…

Sixth stop- Fonty’s Pool, Manjimup- 2 Pubes. What a beautiful place this was. (I’ll post about it later & put the pics on Facebook). The amenities were dated retro but clean… until my kids decided to become faecally incontinent whilst at the pool.

Both of them.

At the SAME TIME.

The little one may, or may not, have engaged in some finger painting at this point.

*bows deeply*

Thank you. I do my best.

Seventh stop- Well this is tricky.
Our seventh stop sees us currently house sitting in Albany for my friends parents while they are in Cairns. And while MY family messes up uses the bathroom it can NEVER be eligible for the Golden Pube Club.

I’m also facing a real moral dilemma.

I feel it’s my duty, as a very grateful guest, to clean up after my family.
But I just can’t bring myself to pick up that toilet brush…


What have I learned so far?

• Always, ALWAYS, carry a spare set of latex gloves on your person. Bugger the allergy! These are PUBLIC TOILETS we’re talking about here!

• Do NOT camp directly next to the toilets.

No matter how convenient it is.

• I don’t need to carry a golf club with me to the bathroom. The cane toads haven’t made it this far yet.

Although…. a golf club could be handy for all those Ninja pubes that jump out at me on the way.

• It doesn’t matter how prepared you are to go for nice, leisurely swim. Someone will always, ALWAYS shit themselves.

Why? WHY? Why do they ALWAYS have to mix it with water?!

Silence is Golden. So I’m lead to believe.

Isn’t it amazing how kids can manage to take a single syllable word like ‘Mum’ or ‘Dad’, and turn them into 2 or 3 syllables?

When I told people we were planning to sell up & travel around Australia for a couple of years or so, I got mixed reactions.
A lot of people liked the idea of it.
But with two small kids? In a car? And a caravan? You’re mad!

I had definitely anticipated some shitful days. I’m not that naive.
We have a slightly emotional &, …ahem…, melodramatic 5 & 1/2 year old. The world is definitely her stage.
She’s working her way to a spot on Home and Away.
In the meantime she’s managed to teach her 2 year old brother everything she knows .
That, together with his stubborn nature & current penchant for whinging AT EVERYTHING, have made for some interesting car rides to date.
I have a gigantic knot in my shoulders to present as evidence.

This is me after a trip out to Cape Leeuwin the other week…












Can you see my eye twitching?


Being in south western W.A. has been good for my knot.

They have lots of nice wine down here.





Georgie is great in the car though. Seasoned traveller, and all that.



She also hasn’t stopped eating since we left Perth over a month ago, so her mouth is usually too occupied for complaints. And if her bum gets sore from sitting too long, she does a REALLY COOL ‘Seat Dance’ to get the blood flowing.

Poo Man, on the other hand, is an active little monster mite who always eats like a machine & can eat AND complain at the same time. He also really likes his sleep which is something we’ve had to work around when trying to see the sights.
It’s worked in well with the camping lifestyle really.
We’re up at sparrows fart, out seeing things early, then back to camp for lunch & a snooze.

We’re all FAR too white to be out in the midday sun anyway.


We do have to drag it out sometimes though. My eye starts twitching in anticipation of the horrors that might unfold.
But we didn’t come all this way to miss out on great adventures just because Old Mate needs a nap.
We would’ve missed out on stuff like this…
  
Jewel Cave, Margaret River Region.

We don’t have a DVD player in the car but there are a couple of bloody good windows to look out of.

Georgie talks to herself a lot, plays with her toys, and looks at books quietly.

Emerson has managed to point out every “COW!”, “HAWK!” (horse), “TRUCK”, and body of “WATER!” that he’s seen from Perth to Albany.

It’s fucking DAIRY FARMING country.

*sigh*

He also likes to let EVERYONE know each time he farts.

He delivers tunes with such genuine enthusiasm & serenades us gently (& often) with “OLD MACFARMER HAD A PIG! OLD MACFARMER HAD A PIG! OLD MACFARMER HAD A PIG!” Incidentally, that is how the first, second, third & fourth verses go… as well as both choruses.

Peace & Quiet are elusive little bastards for anyone with kids but it just makes me enjoy it more when they’re like this…


And on the rare occasions they’re both like this AT THE SAME TIME I do my own little ‘Seat Dance’… of Joy.


What have I learnt so far?

• There is no such thing as ‘too many snacks’. But what goes in does, eventually, come out.

• Dragging an obstinate 2 year old around a dark cave is not that much fun. Specially not for the tour guide.

• Western Australia has a SHITLOAD of cows.

• If you wind down both front car windows, you can’t hear ANYTHING from the back seat.

• I have a whole new understanding of the phrase “Drive me to drink”…

If you want to check out more pics from the places we go, you can head to Facebook.