The Kelpie and the caravan .

Road notes: Days 1–3

There’s something buzzy about getting behind the wheel of my diesel-guzzling Toyota Sahara, hitched to the very fancy Jayco caravan, and heading off. It’s a sense of adventure with a little risk — nervousness touched with a dollop of freedom. Liberating. No domestic duties to speak of. Footloose and fancy-free, so to speak.

Have I planned the daily driving to cater for some less-than-friendly roads? Perhaps not enough. The first worst so-called highway award goes to Queensland. Cunningham’s Gap — one lane up, one lane down — get to the bottom and breathe again. The road to Warwick is mostly 60 km an hour. I’ve been driving it for fifty years. It’s never been 60, and it’s not in any worse repair than it’s ever been.

So when you finally set off, it’s a little anticlimactic. In the car with the dog, five hours of driving ahead, hoping your calculations — time and distance-wise — come good. It’s the bouncy backroads that link the little towns, some of which seem caught in an absolute time warp.

It’s technically day three. It’s hot — very hot. Mid-forties, according to the blonde little weather lady forecasting doom and gloom. It’s Australia. It’s January. And I’m on my way to sizzle at the Elvis Festival.

Be careful with the toilet. It’s great to have a loo on board, but they’re sensitive little creatures. Note to self: do not overload the toilet with tissues — from my nose or any other part of my body.

If I’m being super honest, caravan technology is brilliant. Everything opens and shuts beautifully. I’ve had a caravan before, so most things are familiar. I think I’ve got it all sorted. These vans are equipped with everything — shower, toilet, washing machine, air-conditioning, heaps of storage, retractable awning with LED strip lights, a pop-out bed. And yet there’s always something you don’t know until the chips are down.

I’m in Orange in thirty-five-plus heat, trying to work out how to separate the screen door from the main door.

All of a sudden:

“Hey lady — do you need a hand? Are you trying to separate your door?”

“Yes,” I say sheepishly.

“You just turn the handle the other way, love.”

Of course you do.

The first little hiccup was the fridge. First night, late-ish check-in. I go through the motions — connect the power, connect the water, check the lights, turn on the van power — but the fridge keeps beeping and flashing. What to do? Eventually, we establish that said fridge needs rebooting. Really? Anyway, it works. Hopefully the contents are okay.

Next thing: these caravans are amazing. I have more storage than in my own house. Everything is organised and neat — and then reality hits. You can’t remember where you put anything. Seriously. Big problem.

Yesterday was long — over 400 kilometres from Glen Innes to Tooraweenah. The roads weren’t especially user-friendly, particularly Inverell to Narrabri.

Today I’ve made it to Orange. I’ve also managed to connect the phone to the laptop, so I don’t need to rely on park Wi-Fi. The kelpie is happy — she’s had a bath and a treat from Petbarn.