We got up bright and early (har har) and made ready to leave
by the appointed hour (10:00 am). After many bits and pieces having been done,
including fitting the battery back in place, we were ready to leave at 11. I
had a chat with Hank, the friendly Beaufort Caravan Park caretaker. He charged
me $20 for the unpaid storage fee (“yeah, 4 weeks is about right, can’t be
bothered working it out on the calendar”). I said that we had looked forward to
hearing the banjo frogs in the lake again and he said, “The what?” I described the frogs we
had heard in October (https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=10151974965384289)
and he said, “Oh, you mean the pobblebonks!” So, pobblebonks they are.
Off to Horsham! The caravan settled in behind the Ranger as
if it had been towed by one all its life, and the Ranger pretended it had
nothing more than a little trailer behind it. They got along fine. So did we,
enjoying the jaunt in reasonably warm sunshine to Horsham. It was not going to
be our longest day journey on this trip, and it was not meant to be: we were
going to ease into this ever so slowly before tackling the big kilometres out
west.
At Horsham we drove to the Wimmera Lakes Caravan Park, where
we had camped many years before when we ended up in Horsham with mechanical
trouble with our Lite Ace. The park was not as spick and span as it was then,
but it would do us fine. We were surprised to see that it was almost empty;
there were only 2 other vans there plus some campers and a few people in units.
Apparently the place would fill out after Boxing Day. We found a spot near the
amenities (always a plus, ask John Williamson who describes the phenomenon in
his song “Old Farts in Caravan Parks”). Our neighbours came over to say that
they were glad that we were there as they had started to feel lonely. They were
Stewart and Ursula from Melbourne, he Scots and she German. They were
first-time empty-nesters and feeling the loneliness of having a Christmas
without family. So we agreed to pool resources and have a Christmas lunch
together.
Off we went to the shops for our re-stocking expedition,
picking up a gas cylinder for the Weber on the way, as well as a chook that would
be our symbolic Christmas turkey.
Horsham is a nice country town, and having been to a few in
recent years on the mainland, I can’t say that I dislike the breed. They may
not have the fast pace of the big cities, but make up for it with uncomplicated
charm and friendliness.
The temperatures were reasonable to mild, being quite
a lot warmer than what we had had until now in Tassie, but not to the extent
that we could not cope. Nights were very mild indeed, yet we did not regret
only taking the summer doona.
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