SO after being in Victoria for 5 months, Edd decided we hadn't seen any of it really and wanted to go camping. He booked us in at Wilsons Prom, 3hours south, and we then went on a beg, borrow, buy scramble to get whatever we needed for the weekend.

The weekend was successful, with glorious sunshine and only a few minor hitches: Edd wanted to take a duvet and I wanted to take our sleeping bags. I couldn't reach his sleeping bag and knew that if I asked him to get it for me, we'd end up having another great debate on which to take. So I left it, not realizing that I was in fact, only taking my sleeping bag…! He technically had nothing to cover him with! Luckily it was warm, so we unzipped my sleeping bag and both slept under it.

As if we were filming a scene in a movie, we were coming back from tooth-brushing and pan-washing when he turned to me and said 'there's a sign in the bathroom saying be careful of wombats, apparently we need to keep the tent closed.' As he'd finished his sentence, we arrived back to our tent and I replied with, 'oh you mean like that?' A great big wombat had snuck into our tent and was munching away on the bread we were planning on using to make toast with in the morning.. He was annoyingly tame and paid no attention to us trying to get him out of our tent. We ended up folding up a camping chair and pushing him out with it. I zipped the tent up and Edd tried to lure him away with some more bread (by this point, he'd named him Frank). Frank spent the rest of the evening, periodically trying to get back in.

We spent Saturday on the hiking trails and ended up on Squeaky beach - so named because the sand literally squeaks as you walk on it. We'd lathered up on factor 20 sun cream 4 times, but still managed to catch a little red glow. The Australian sun was like nothing we'd ever experienced before. Nothing less than 50+ in the future.

The wind picked up during the course of Saturday evening and we moved the car in an attempt to block the wind. By Sunday morning, we woke up covered in sand and I was looking forward to 4 walls and a roof that didn't seem like it was about to blow off.

We got home, washed everything and then looked up somewhere to go the next weekend..

I booked to go to the Yarra Valley Reservoir and we prepared for another magical weekend, but in the forest this time.

On our way there, I discovered that the facilities we had paid for were out of order, no provisions had been made in their stead for over a year and we had basically just been ripped off. (We got the money back, 2 months later).

We went to Bunyip instead, which turned out to have just as much nothing available, but it was free. The long drop hadn't been cleaned I think in the history of ever. It had a tap though, so we could do our washing up. Not a complete shambles.

It rained the whole night. By Saturday morning I declared the adventure a flop and wanted to go home. Edd had discovered that I'd packed 2 slipslops for him, but they were both for the left foot. So it was just as well he hadn't needed them because of the rain. We packed up, knowing full well we'd have to re-erect the tent in the underground parking later at home, to dry it out. We made our way back to Melbourne via a winery, which had live music, had some lunch and got home to 4 walls and a roof that weren't leaking. Heaven.

Edd gets these bees in his bonnet from time to time (usually about 1 a month) where he wants to go somewhere, do something, buy something, etc. In the last 6 months they've been, in no particular order: 1. Buy a yacht and sail around the world 2. Buy a motorbike (he got the license, but the reasoning behind that is they are changing the rules this year, so he wanted to get in before that) 3. Live in the city 4. Buy a campervan.

All of his dreams have gone down in a blaze of smoke, except the last. He sold the idea to me as an 'investment' and I countered his offer with it having to seat a decent amount of people (the ones we were finding only seated 2 people. Have 1 child and the thing would have to be sold). He found a skadonk (South African slang for heap of crap) that was going on the cheap and he could do it up. I wasn't wild about the idea, but it wasn't shot down (he'd also be distracted for the foreseeable future, so no more buzzing bees for a while at least).

He then found one that legally seated 5 people, had only done 60 000km's, had a solar panel, shower, potty, fridge, sink, etc etc etc, but it was in Sydney. It didn't need any major work and had been owned by 3 sets of older people that hadn't gone very far. Clearly. 2001 model. I was shown the pictures and we discussed the logistics.

By Friday 18 December, we had 2 one-way tickets to Sydney booked for Sunday and a rough plan to get back to Melbourne around the 27th'ish. Basically, we were going to camp our way back home over a period of a week. We packed our bags (I'd booked an extra bag for all the things we wanted to take with us, bedding, pillows, etc - it was cheaper than buying it all again) and Edd packed in my instant Chai tea and Eucalyptus hand wipes next to each other, without thinking much of it. We both had to sit on the bag to get it closed and then decided we were probably better off rearranging a few things. Opening the lid revealed a sticky concoction as the hand wipes had oozed out their eucalyptus and the chai powder had burst open! We had to rewrap a few of each others presents in seperate rooms, wipe everything, vacuum the bag out and then start again. Not our finest hour.

I went out with our housemates to a birthday thing on Saturday night, Edd had sailing early on Sunday morning, so he went to bed. Upon exiting the party a little after midnight, I attempted to take the path of least resistance, as there were teenagers hanging out all over the walkway. Quick short cut over the grassy patch and out the gate was the plan. The Uber was waiting outside and the driver had mysteriously cancelled the trip and driven off, so I was in a rush. Over a short part of the walkway, onto the grass… Bam. It took me a few seconds to realized I'd slipped and fallen. I initially thought I'd slipped on a rock or something, but then realized I was wet. Everywhere. I did a quick once over: shorts: submerged. Dry clean only. Crap. Ted Baker shoes: submerged. Crap. Phone, check. Bag, check (electronic car key). A very kind lady was standing at the gate and came around to help me get up. She opened with: 'you aren't the first person tonight to do this.' I replied with 'I thought it was grass!' Sammy was as shocked as I was, if she was walking in front of me, it would have been her instead of me. It literally looked like grass - the algae on the fish pond surrounded by green lighting. I gave those goldfish the fight of there lives, in my Dr. Seuss moment of 'I wish that I had duck feet.' Getting up, I realized that my left foot was excruciatingly painful and I couldn't stand on it. At all. The lady helped me take my shoes off and I hobbled outside. We re-requested the taxi and he arrived 5 minutes later. Again.

One ice bucket and a pressure sock later, I was now sporting a cankle. My left angle was no where to be seen. Torn ligaments at the start of Christmas vaca, well isn't that smashing.

Sunday came and there were severe weather warnings, we had a 2.17pm shuttle up to the airport and by the time we were checking in, flights were being cancelled. We were put on an earlier flight (which was the one we wanted to be on, but wouldn't have made the check in time and it was $100 more expensive). We had to run (hobble) to the boarding gate and in and hour and a half, we were in Sydney.

The guy we were buying the van from, fetched us from the airport and took us to a car wash not too far away (free parking), where Edd inspected it from top to bottom, inside and out. An hour later, we were signing papers. They'd bought us a bottle of sparkling wine and wrapped up a box of chocolates as a Christmas present, even though they themselves didn't celebrate the holiday. Nicest people. The wife was originally from Malaysia and during our travels, they were the nicest people we met and in our opinion, nicest people in the world, so it made sense. We went to a friend of Edd's house for the evening for dinner and to stay over for the night.

I have never been to Sydney, I wanted to do all the lame touristy things there was to do there before we set off on our next adventure; so we went to work with Edd's friend the next day.

The double decker trains are possibly the coolest thing I'd ever seen. In. My. Life. The rail network worked like London's and unlike Melbourne's attempt at public transport, everything was well mapped, marked and labelled. It reminded me a lot of Cape Town, minus the mountain obviously. She pointed us in the direction of the tourist hot spots, we said our goodbyes and headed off for the botanical gardens. We didn't have heaps of time to meander through things, so we walked/hobbled with purpose. Stopping every now and then to give my foot a rest.

The Sydney Opera House is absolutely amazing, I didn't bother going up the steps, only because I couldn't walk down things, but we took heaps of photos from the bottom. Next was the Harbour Bridge and then breakfast. Edd wanted to take me to a place in The Rocks where he'd gone with his folks when he'd been here years before over looking the attractions, but they were closed, so we went to a coffee shoppe near the Opera House instead.

We then set off back to the van and a Coles to do some shopping. We also stocked up on G&T, beer and wine. The essentials really. Edd popped across to the pharmacy and got some mozzie spray for me and we then set off down the east coast, not entirely sure where we were going, but we'd know when we got there.

There was a minor crisis with the awning as the previous owner hadn't fastened it down properly (even after his wife, Edd and I protested that the roof didn't look right) turned out we'd been driving with only the safety latch on and it popped open as we drove 80km's an hour down the freeway… Kite surfing on a new level. We couldn't get it closed properly at first, and it didn't help that it was raining. Edd eventually managed to get it to close, but it wasn't right and we'd have to sort it out in the morning.

We ended up doing a little bush-whacking and stopped in a parking lot for the night. The sign said no tent camping on the beach, but we were in a van and in the parking lot. There was no one and nothing around us, so we unpacked the bedding (that had flown to Sydney with us - we'd booked an extra bag) and made some dinner. There was a beach just over a small dune and Edd went to check it out, I didn't fancy hobbling to check it out in the rain, so stayed behind.

The next morning, Edd made me tea and we took it to the look out area overlooking the beach. He went to feel the water and got his shorts wet from a freak wave. Hilarious.

We then went in search of a Bunnings (massive hardware store in Australia) and a small mechanic whose tools he could borrow. We found both and after buying a tool kit, we stopped and he asked if he could borrow a pillar drill. The mechanic had a look and disagreed with Edd's idea of structural alterations, pointing out that the bolts had shifted and the roof just needed to be realigned. 'Just' a magical 4 letter word. 3 hours later, Edd, the mechanic and I were working together in putting the last bolts back in place and the roof was fixed. (I only helped with the final touches, I was completely redundant other than that).

We were back on our way and I booked us into a camp site with showers - desperate times. The agreement was every second night we'd stay somewhere I could shower in a cubicle and sit on a toilet seat. The potty required chemicals and cleaning, which neither of us were keen on, so we'd roughed it in the bush the night before. I'd found a beautiful spot on a lake in Eden and we arrived after 6.30pm, requesting and being allocated a site over looking the river. The place was idyllic and I had a shower. Life was back in perspective.

I had another shower the next morning and Edd filled the van's water tank again - we were roughing it tonight. He'd figured out how to locate free campsites in Victoria (or New South Wales, where ever we were really) and after much deliberation, figured out that we had to get to Lakes Entrance that evening. We went for a walk along the beach first and then set off for another 4-hour drive to the Lakes.

We located a gravel road and ended up in a campsite called The Glasshouse. We positioned the van in a very secluded spot, put our cozzies on and went to the lake that fed into the ocean. Realizing we were alone and there was no one in sight for miles, we stripped off and tanned parts that didn't usually see sunlight. After chatting to a guy that was staying there - on a long term basis, people apparently did that all the time as there was no one for miles usually. Especially on the beach part, which was to the left, we'd gone right. He claimed The Glasshouse as his grandfathers and stated that he owned 2 houses, but saved so much money living in his van, that he rented them out instead. Not sure how much of his story was truth and which parts he'd concocted, he said goodnight and went on his way.

Edd and I played a few games of cards and then decided he wanted to fix the water pump - it was making a funny noise. He hypothesized that we'd lost all the water we'd put in that morning, due to the gravel roads and bouncing around. I'd noticed it coming out of the water cap on the Monday and questioned him as to the whether or not it was normal for water to pour out of a closed cap. He assured me it was just over-full, but now he wasn't so sure.

The Glasshouse grandson gave Edd a jerry can of water to play with and figure out where the water leak was, but it turned out there wasn't one. We went back to the lost water theory and he decided to get a stopcock the next day, after refilling it again. Or trying to. For now, we had enough water to cook with and I could potentially take an army shower out the back the next morning. We had a bird bath as we were full of sand: ie. We filled the sink with water and used my beach wrap as a face cloth, soaped it up and scrubbed down. Times were tough.

The next morning, we both awoke quite early (which is something we kept doing, the sun kept waking us). I climbed out the back, wearing Edd's slip slops (one for each foot, not 2 left ones), stripped down and had a shower out the back. The biggest concern of course was that I'd soap up and then we'd run out of water, so wouldn't be able to wash all the soap out my hair, etc. Luckily, as I washed the last bubbles off my arm, the water ran out. Crisis averted.

We went back to a Bunnings and Edd bought a stop c*** as well as 2 spanners and some plumbers tape. He MacGyvered the pipes and fitted the stop c*** right there in the parking lot. He then returned the spanners (he used them and then returned them, yes he totally returned them. Horrified) and we were off again. He'd booked a placed along the Yarra River and we headed off.. Having topped up the water situation again for a second time, we were set.

The new place was less than delightful, with a grumpy old man assigning us a spot under the trees, overlooking the toilet block and BBQ area. A group of young guys sat at a picnic table right outside our awning and lit up cigarettes. We were livered. Edd had heard water slushing around again, and as I opened the sliding door, the 100 litres we had just put in, had all come out via the air duct. 3rd time lucky, Edd shortened the pipe and placed it in the upright position, so it didn't flow out again. It hadn't done any damage; all the water had flowed into the bit under the floor the roller door ran on. We filled up the water tank for a 3rd time.

Edd went back to the office and requested to move, saying that the lack of privacy was disturbing. The grumpy old guy grunted at Edd and he came back less than happy with life. We moved the van to a corner on the opposite side, but new comers kept arriving and with no clear 'lots,' people were piled on top of each other like sardines. We would definitely not be coming back to this joint. All the kafuffle aside, we put our cozies on and went for a swim, it was Christmas eve and Edd had a surprise booked for the next day…

I awoke early (7am) and got Edd up for presents. We'd flown to Sydney with them in our bags and after itching to open them all week, it was finally time. After manic unwrapping, phone calls overseas and a bit of breakfast, we set off on the surprise destination Edd had booked.

We arrived at an Eco Golf Resort as Edd had booked Christmas lunch at the restaurant, and to top it all off, we were staying at the hotel that night. No bush whacking! Yay for me! We ate far too much food and drank more wine than we should have, went up stairs to the room and passed out.

We had a late check out the next day and spent one more night roughing it. I'd decided to go home on the 27th, as we had a lot to sort out before Edd's folks arrived on the 28th and I didn't want to be in a mad rush to get everything done in time. We stayed in the Yarra valley for the last evening and nearly ran out of petrol.. Narrowly making it to a petrol station. We'd decided to go north and stayed in an area that was technically a skiing town - there was no snow at the moment, but we found out quite quickly that as soon as the sun went down, it was icy cold. The mattress we were supposed to sleep on had gotten wet the night before, as one of us hadn't closed the boot properly when we got the bags out at the hotel. We dried it out, along with our pillows and a couple of other items that had been caught in the cross fire and made some dinner.

We were sad to have come to the end of the van adventure the next morning, I'd made a note of some of the strange names of creeks, streets and villages that we'd past along the way:
Mosquito Creek
Sheepwash Lane
The Knob
Limberlost
Clearly they were short of ideas and played Scrabble with naming of some of the places. We also noticed how much nothing there is here. Everyone lives on top of each other in the city, but there is so much space, filled with absolutely nothing, everywhere.

The registering of the van interstate needs it's own paragraph of explanation. We realize now why people buy cars here through dealers, instead of privately, and only from within the state they live. Because the van was going to be in Edd's name, he had to register it. But it isn't a matter of standing in a queue at home affairs (South Africa) or posting it to the road and traffic department (England). This would be far too easy (yes, I used South African home affairs and easy in the same sentence). We had to make an appointment at VicRoads to 'see' someone. Edd's first day back at work started off at the traffic department, in a virtual queue, waiting for a man that had no sense of urgency. The road worthy certificate sited a different engine number to the one listed on the national database, meaning the guy needed to see the engine number to confirm it had indeed changed. The van was at home, we were in Edd's car. I then took Edd to a train station to go to work (the guy having seen Edd and taken all his details) drive home, swop to the van and drive the manual machine back to the VicRoads with a torn ligament in the left foot. That was fun. I then couldn't get the cover off the front for the guy to see the numbers, he was not volunteering his help by any means and I then had to take a copy of the national database, as well as the Road Worthy Certificate back to the mechanic to take the cover off for me. A young guy assisted in the process and I drove the van back to VicRoads with no cover on it.. Wondering the entire journey if my face was going to melt off from the heat of the engine. (They are inside the car in vans, not in the bonnet). He then sited the number, confirmed it was different, changed it on the national database, gave me the new number plates, receipts for a long list of things and we had to pay stamp duty for the purchase of the vehicle. Yes. Stamp duty to buy a car. 6 cents for every dollar spent. This is why people buy cars from dealers - all this stuff is included.

I then drove back to the mechanic, with a melting face; he put everything back together for me, including attaching the number plates. The holes in the number plates did not line up with the holes in the van.. He had to drill sideways to get them to fit, as well as find 2 different sized screws for the number plate on the back, as the previous owners had used Velcro to keep it on (I know right?!) because the entrance holes were 2 different sizes - because that makes sense.

2.5 hours later, we had the van registered in Edd's name, with Victorian number plates. Never again. For as long as I live.


Edd's folks arrived on the 28th and we spent 3.5 weeks with them, travelling along The Great Ocean Road, going to the Melbourne Open, a roof top cinema, wineries and Philip Island, to name but only a handful of activities. It was definitely a Christmas for the record books.