Its still raining here on the East Coast...its never-ending in fact! So, as we're both shelled up in this internet cafe avoiding the monsoon going on outside, I'm going to update you on where we are...and any rare glimpses of sunshine.

Since Suze left you in Mission Beach, the hippy commune, we've moved down the coast to Hervey Bay, trying to toe the backpacker line and meet like minded individuals. We've realised something mind...we're too old for them! I mean, surrounded by 18 year olds at every stop, and due to my anal nature our camper van is immaculate compared to theirs...our clothes are actually folded, its very sad! Might just go mental next time we stop and empty our bags over the back of the van...but then again I'd rather not spend hours refolding them.

Not that we're complaining, we're on holiday..if thats what you call it. In honesty, its beginning to feel more like a "vocation".

Less raffle..how did we get here...

From Mission Beach, we drove down the road to Tully. Tully is wet. It rains more than anywhere else in Oz here...buckets of the stuff. Barmy locals appear to love it, so much so they've erected a giant wellington boot, complete with a tree frog straddling it, to celebrate their..erm...wetness. Drab looking town, but then what would you expect when its always raining.

No point staying round here, we drove on..through the driving rain. To be fair, its the tropics, and you're surrounded by rainforests, so what do you expect. The road south was pretty uneventful, some bleak towns, Ingham and Townsville to name a few. We struggled on into the night arriving at Ayr south of the latter, comfortable site and a well earned sleep. Like being a turtle this campervan malarky, carrying your home on your back. And its wet! How apt.

No sooner had we left Ayr, we chanced upon Home Hill..and a "comfort stop", showers, toilets, BBQ facilities and plugs! Would explain the numerous campervans, no different to ours, littering the vacinity. Free camping is a concept we haven't been able to embrace out here. Its not really the done thing, fines are heavy and I'd rather not be woken in jim-jams by the police rattling on my window asking me to move on at 2am. We're hoping its all very different in New Zealand where the idea is exploited, and no one bats an eyelid. Must be getting stingy if I'm moaning about the lack of freecamping...but we really want to see those pennies stretch to white-water rafting, skydiving, and god knows what else we might have planned.....spider web tattoos on our faces?

Onwards, south to Bowen. It was here that Baz Lurhman decided to film his..erm.."epic" Australia, with Hugh Jackman and Nicole Kidman. Okay, I've seen it, its pretty crap and apparently quite a turkey, but the town is Australia crazy. Its a great little place, beaches of white sands, turquoise waters, but no cattle ranches or red dirt..the film set was just south off the coast. We took a picnic here, the rain didn't deter us, we're getting pretty hardcore now, took some snaps of the surroundings that might/might not have been in the film, can't be sure, then packed and moved on. Its all very rapid fire, but when you need to get from A to B with limited days, time becomes a valuable currency.

Decided to throw that last part out the window soon after..we're were knackered from all this driving, this clutch is the death of my left leg as well! At Airlie Beach, a backpacker haven, we laid roots for a couple of days. First night in a "backpacker" campsite was a disgrace. Okay, it was centre to the main drag..littered with McDonalds, Cold Rock Ice Cream parlours, surf shops, backpacker bars and internet cafes...but the facilities were an utter disgrace. Pricey as well! Can't help but think that in areas of Oz, the backpacker faves, prices are sky high and standards low...the rip off element is rife, and rather annoying. Be warned all those reading this and thinking of taking the same route. We'd moved on the next day to a 4 star site a mere 2km from town, and $$s cheaper!

Airlie Beach is the stepping stone to the Whitsunday islands. There are a billion and one means of getting there/exploring the isles, Whitehaven Beach being in the top 5 beaches of the world with its perfect white sands and turquoise clear waters. Well, its pricey seeing all this loveliness. We debated for hours on the merits between various tours..the party boat Camira, the Reefjet to Whitehaven direct, or the ferry to Long Island and Daydream Island where you make your own fun. Weather decided it. Would have destroyed me had we'd payed up 200 quid a piece to sit in the rain on board a flash boat touring the grey wet beaches. The ferry won hands down. Early rise the next morning, we took in Long Beach, and a 3.5km impromptu walk through rainforest to find the perfect beach for our fancy picnic (bottle of plonk included...oo la la)..like Leo De Caprio...only to end up back at the pier where we munched our sarnies overlooking the pacific. Not all bad then...apart from the downpour that had us scuttling for the ferry depot.

Daydream Island was sunnier mind, and we got a glimpse of the Whitsundays in their summery glory..and yes, they are very pleasing on the eye. I challenged Suze to crazy golf whilst there..."Around Australia in 19 Holes"....not quite the Belfry, but I'm s*** at golf..so this is the eqivalent of my "Open". Suze started far too brightly...3 shot lead. Its all mental golf, all mental..and soon her resolve was crumbling, whilst I (thank god) found some form. I triumphed, but to make a song and dance about a victory over someone who has never held a club is sad and pathetic.

Sod it, I won, I am a the new Tiger Woods. In your face Suze.

That childish episode out the way, we returned to Airlie Beach...the slog of a walk to find some noodles (extra hot, ouch I was burning), beers, a game of scrabble which is become far to close for comfort now...I can see a turning point where I'll be sobbing over my tiles whilst Suze dances a jig of victory round my pathetic scores. Nightmares....

Goodbye Airlie Beach, onwards to Rockhampton, home of beef! Long slog via a sarnie on Sarina Beach, and "stingers". Its the season for jellyfish, so even paddling is dangerous. Suze has nuts mind, and bound in..well..up to her ankles. I'm not playing with stingers, or risking it, so applauded from the beach. We arrived at Rockhampton early evening, and no sooner had we wolfed down tea, we went exploring. It was pretty dead, backpackers clearly take the opportunity to stop off here for a breather before the slog further south. No matter, chanced upon an excellent duo playing at a pub live...electro acoustic, drumkit, great voice, classic tunes....worth 3 or 4 schooners we thought.

Long drive to get here, so we took the opportunity of some "sun" to return to the coast. Emu Park just east of Rockhampton is where Captain Cook laid anchor en route to navigating the aussie coast. A bizarre sculpture, with chimes that wail in the breeze, stands at the highest point of the town. Like something out the X-Files if you stop to listen to it, I closed my eyes half thinking we'd wake up on the mothership. The tourist drive takes you up the coast to Yeppoon, which is not really something to write home about, so we ventured by inland to Mount Morgan south of Rockhampton. Well...it was like the wild west here, ghost town, redneck vibe, hangmans noose, tumbleweed, gunfights..hang on, getting a little carried away here...it was creepy. In fact, I believe Bon Jovi's "Dead Or Alive" came on the radio as we drove through...which I thought was class, but didn't want to alert much attention to our gay-mobile, so we shot through towards Biloela..cause it was getting late. The campsite there was purely made up of contractors, it was that kind of place..but the owner was a legend, lettting us stay for free and giving us an ensuite toilet to share! If anything, the aussies are so good humoured and have warm hearts...we've yet to meet anyone who hasn't got a friendly word for us. Pom bashing on the radio is even..dare I say it..."amusing" at times. Can't wait to smash them in the Ashes....

From Biloela we took the mammoth drive to 1770..odd name for a town, but cracking beaches, and a quick look at Bundaberg the home of rum, albeit from the comfort our campervan.

And now here we are, at Hervey Bay..where the sodding rain has found us. We'll beat it mind, we're about to jump back in the mystery machine (looks a little like Scooby Doo's home...but a little more..erm..bent) and pile onwards to Noosa for a few days. We'll out sprint those b****** rainclouds...you watch.

Till the next time, love to all, and here's hoping Villa finish the season with a florish...or maybe not. No matter, we've always got Jensen.

Much love

Mike and Suze.