The trip we almost skipped…

Nothing could keep two little Aussie girls from venturing off around world! Oh bliss! What a prospect! Three months to celebrate surviving three gruelling years, riding the shift work roller coaster of hospital-based nursing training!

Let’s go! Wait! Hang on a couple of minutes… no, make that… months! The Aussie dollar crashed… the Chernobyl nuclear disaster occurred… our travel budget became a frayed bungee jumping cable! International airports became our only affordable travel destinations … some with dubious irradiation levels.

Fine… we’ll just drive around Oz instead.

“I’m never coming back here after I finish up on Friday!”

… the joke was on me! A few measly, incorrect numbers on a payslip sure slammed the brakes on our holiday plans. Languishing at the coal face as couple more months, squared us away with management... escape was finally in sight!

Ann, my intrepid fellow traveller and nursing ‘sister’ volunteered her zippy, 5 speed Mazda 323 hatch as our trusty steed. Her dear Grandma’s parting advice was…

“Pull over to the side of the road when you see a car!”

Four fleeting decades later, I’m still pondering exactly which car was such a threat… oncoming; following; passing; parked or all? We parked the advice and hurtled merrily down the highway… songbirds, chirping along with our favourite CD music… Billy Joel’s Pressure wafted on the airwaves.

Half an hour of exhilarating freedom later, the navigator of the day (yes, me) unfolded our unwieldy paper map of Australia! Oops! We’re on the wrong highway! You’re never lost, just on a scenic detour! became our catch cry.

We both loved driving and vied for our turn at the wheel. With a 24 cm height difference, we were the long & short of it. No quick pit stops during driver changes! Soon, we adopted the practice of taking turns driving day about. The Designated Driver adjusted the seat, mirror and steering wheel. They exercised precious veto power over music selection or silence, and controlled air-conditioning and windows. As opposites, each day typically saw one of us fried or frozen.

Our travel plans across seven states, were as fluid as the Murrumbidgee River. Sightseeing crammed into every second of our day… evenings filled with updating travel diaries; writing postcards and pouring over tourist brochures collected along the way. Imagine! Four brief decades ago… we thrived, despite the absence of internet; emails; mobile phones; text messages and GPS. Unbelievable, but true! I do not lie!

Friends and family sprinkled along the way, offered warm hospitality… like sparkling stars, brightening our adventures. Mostly, onsite caravans kept us out of the rain and off the streets at night.

South Australia’s Point Sinclair boasted a pretty in pink, salt lake… what a treat! However, socialising with local fishermen on the jetty at Streaky Bay, was far more memorable… we abandoned all thought of a refreshing ocean dip when we realised, we could soon become tasty morsels for ravenous, roaming sharks.

Heading west to Perth, the Nullarbor Plain lived up to its Latin name of ‘no tree’! Twelve hundred kilometres of gun barrel straight road stretched to the horizon. Intermittent stops to gaze out across the azure ocean hugging The Great Australian Bight, kept us awake. Waving enthusiastically to every vehicle in sight, staved off boredom.

Western Australia’s wildflowers painted the desert canvas… Kangaroo’s and Cat’s Paws were my favourites. Never ending plains of vibrant purple were disputed by neighbouring states… hailed as Salvation Jane in South Australia and reviled as Paterson’s Curse in Western Australia. We adored them all… fragrant, wild jonquils and daffodils in the Adelaide Hills, and pom pom covered Golden Wattles elsewhere.

Oceans and lighthouses… dynamic duos, irresistible magnets! Cape Leeuwin was no exception. Wild, winds whipped up euphoria on our short trek to out to the peninsula’s tip, Australia’s most south-westerly point. Mainland Australia’s tallest lighthouse kept watch over treacherous seas where the Indian and Southern Oceans met… and clashed turbulently.

Numerous adventures beckoned in Western Australian. The Pinnacles’ weird limestone formations in Nambung National Park were a moonscape portal. Skating along on corrugated dirt roads where the best side was the wrong side, we foolishly arrived at Wave Rock at dusk. The granite wave’s crest was an impressive fifteen metres high and stretched over one hundred metres. Sadly, it was too dark for photographs, and of course, we carried no camping gear. So, we hightailed it back to the nearest accommodation… kangaroos crisscrossing the road as though playing laser tag. Exhausted, with eyes on stalks like crabs… relieved, but shattered, we gratefully collapsed into our beds that night.

All the best holidays include close encounters with animals. Rottnest Island’s cute quokkas didn’t disappoint. On Kangaroo Island, Ann was chased by an unimpressed sea lion… a small price to pay for an extreme close-up photo!

At El Caballo Blanco, we were enthralled by dancing Andalusian horses carrying their handsome riders. Water slides and a monorail were the icing atop the cake. Later in Tasmania… the Apple Isle, we cuddled a wombat who was the runt of the litter. Although a pleasant experience at the time, holding a large male koala had a nasty aftermath. When exploring Mole Creek Caves soon afterwards, we belatedly realised we reeked of koala… a pungently, strong musky odour! To this day, I still feel a twinge of pity for the hapless tourists touring the caves with us.

Along the way, in South Australia, I was thrilled to meet and chat with the sleek black, talking car, KITT… the star of my favourite TV series at the time... Knight Rider.

Of course, as card carrying Rev-Heads, attendance at the Adelaide Moto GP was compulsory. What a memorable mix of revving engines and fleeting glimpses of speeding, sleek formula 1 racing cars in all colours and styles. We were shell shocked when Nigel Mansell’s car tyre blew out as he roared down Brabham Straight at 290 kk/hr, losing his world title. What a day!

South of Adelaide, tranquil Mount Gambier graces four picturesque crater lakes: Blue, Valley, Browne and Leg of Mutton Lakes. Have I mentioned how fond of water I am?! Surprisingly, the highlight of our Mount Gambier visit was a Magic Show performed by the locals. Taco’s version of Puttin' on the Ritz perfectly complemented their climactic act, as their beautiful assistance was dramatically sawn in two. What a relief when those amateurs successfully reunited her legs with her torso! She appeared pleased with the outcome too!

Mid trip, Ann was suffering terribly from being separated from her piano. Let’s be honest, travelling with an uncertified lunatic may well have contributed to the desperate situation. The solution? We rang the minister of a church in the tiny town and explained her plight. Ask, and it will be given unto you! We were allowed access to a vacant manse, graced with an old honky-tonk piano. Hours of piano therapy later, all was well with her world again.

Victoria’s Great Ocean Road hugs 240 km of the south-eastern coast of Australia. The spectacular limestone stacks of the Twelve Apostles were amazing. Sadly, only seven or eight still stand. We blithely strolled out across the iconic London Bridge land formation. A few short years later, part of the arch collapsed into the sea, leaving a couple of tourists stranded. Phew… what good timing on our part!

A rough ferry ride across to Tasmania, wasn’t quite as thrilling as hoped. A few days later, suffering from annoying head colds... gasping for air, we staggered up The Nut at Stanley. Clearly, if it’s there, it must be climbed… with or without a plentiful oxygen supply. On that day, it was no walk in the park... crawling up the steep pinch to a 152 m summit! But, oh my... the view was worth it!

Numerous other spectacular views and fascinating places were visited and tucked safely away in our memories, to be revisited and enjoyed… but I suspect I just heard the gentle sound of a snore or two! Suffice it to say… the good news is… Ann and I remained firm friends. It’s true! Longsuffering soul that she is… we went on to spend a year flatting together in Adelaide.

Finally, we arrived back in Far North Queensland… just in time for Christmas. Hailed Intrepid Travellers at a surprise welcome home party, there, I met a sweet, quiet laddie. He was working in the area for a few months while I was home for ten brief days, before heading south again. Two short years later, we were married!

… and that’s the trip we almost skipped!

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