Tuesday, November 22, 2011

November 20

With it being Sunday we know it is going to be impossible to get Winston's spare tyre fixed so we dared not venture too far from tarmac today.  It was a shame, there were so many tracks that were shouting at us to turn off tarmac and explore.  We had to be sensible, it was only last Sunday we shredded two of Winston's tyres and there was no way we could call Britz up again this Sunday with the same problem!!!!  Starting to head northwards - just a little bit and still heading west we hunted out a National Park with the perfect name - Janes National Park.  We can't come all the way to OZ and not check out a little gem like this when so close <g>.

Now, it is hard to know if one should be disappointed or not. Jane's National Park does not allow camping - boooo, it does not even have a proper sign giving it's name, only a couple that say national park.  It is quite a small national park of natural forest surrounded by forests of planted trees for commercial use.  How do we know this - the trees are all regular, planted in straight lines and are tall and skinny, just perfect when fully mature to be cut off at their bases, relocated to another bit of land and replanted, not to grow as they should but become a big stick sticking out of the ground with electric cables uniting them with their equally, similar looking neighbour.

I got to thinking, should this national park be called "Plain Jane", should I be offended that a national park with my name be given so little notoriety?.  No, not in the last, the park was basic, honest, non-commercial, had no frills attached and unaffected, pretty much words I use to describe myself, so I think it is perfectly named and I am proud to share my name with this National Park.

With no place to hang up our boots here we continued driving by in search of Winston's home for the night.  Maybe heading back to the South Coast would be a good idea.  It was not a long drive to a place called 'Windy Harbour' - now that does not sound too appealing but who knows, maybe it's name is hiding another little treasure for us to enjoy.  Alas no, this place is obviously a weekend get away location for the lucky residents who lived near by, it was made up of dirt roads with signposts and wooden ramshackle buildings with windows, curtains and little gardens.

A big rock at the end of their beach!!!
The unlucky tourist planning on staying here was chucked in a field!!!!  No, not for us <g> even though a shower was provided at the campsite we did not linger long.

Turning Winston around we headed back inland and up the South Western Highway where the map showed a bush camp not far from the road, a safe drive for wounded Winston who has no spare tyre if we get another puncture.

What another pretty spot, in natural forest at a place called Moons Crossing.  Even better, if we run out of wine there is a winery just on the other side of the road.  We parked Winston under a tree, daring not to cross the river, although it was shallow it would be a crap place to get another puncture <g>.  Out with the kettle, on with the kikoy's/sarongs and time to take a look around.

We must have been here for about an hour when Alan, having checked out the river crossing and explored the other side returned with the idea we should risk it and take Winston swimming to cool his hot feet.  There was and even prettier campsite just on the other side.  And that is exactly what we did <g>.

Up until now nobody else has passed by but suddenly we were overrun with traffic.  The occupants of first vehicle over the river stopped for a chat, "had we caught any fish?" they asked.  Now come on, we are sitting here with cameras not fishing rods <g>. They were soon on their way when another vehicle came in from the opposite side, they got to the river and turned tail and left.  We heard them attempting to put up a tent but they obviously decided to move on.  Two trail bikes then passed us by, again getting to the river and turing round to depart the same way they arrived.  Next another Toyota, a posh one <g>.  The couple drove past us, got to the river and reversed to can you get where - our camping spot.  How come, with so many places they could stop they chose to park a few feet away from us.  Oh well, I guess I have to learn to share <g>.  The couple came over for a chat, I think the female just wanted to know who we were and what we were doing.  The conversation got round to bush camping and she came up with the strangest of things, she said 'It takes a certain type of person to understand bush camping.'  I am not sure what she meant but it got my brain cell to thinking again - what is bush camping to us.  It is not going totally native and self sufficient, having to make ones own shelter to keep dry and warm and catching dinner or going hungry.  For us, bush camping is finding an unspoilt place where nature provides the most beautifully decorated room, ever changing in light and sound, a place where humans tend to back away from in preference for a TV, cosy chair and every amenity they require a few feet away.  Bush camping is about not having to remember to lift/lower the loo seat (saying as there isn't one, only a spade to make your own hole); not having to remember to brush your hair in the morning or making sure what you wear matches as there is nobody around to judge you by appearance; bush camping is about finding yourself, your strengths and weaknesses, about learning to stand still and look around you, about learning to breath deep and relax.  And with those thoughts I end today's blog :)


  1. What a beautiful spot, good on you, not sure I would have been brave enough to cross the river without a spare, fun times!

  2. Somebody went across in a 2WD - not sure if he was brave or foolish. The crossing looked worse than it was


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