Australian Walkabout

We spent another three nights at the Racecourse in Broken Hill, I know I said we wanted to leave, but hey…it was nice and relaxing. Peter repaired the damage to the water tank, washed the dirt off Chunky Bum and Big Ears, and we re-assessed our travel plans. There was still a lot of rain heading our way and we wanted to keep off the dirt. Even if we had wanted to risk it, most of the dirt roads were closed anyway, but we could still get to White Cliffs on the black, via Wilcannia.

Like most other places we have been to, it was very quiet. In fact, we had the caravan park all to ourselves for a couple of days. It’s a friendly little town, with a few touristy things to do. Mine tours, underground home tours etc. Some were not operating, but we don’t tend to do the usual touristy things anyway.

We had planned a day trip out to the Paroo-Darling National Park and Lake Peery, the idea being we would check out the camping area for a potential one week stay.  I did mention it had been raining and yes, we had to drive dirt roads to get there but we decided to give it a go. We didn’t make it to Lake Peery but we did nearly get bogged, so I suppose that sign ‘ROAD CLOSED’ actually meant something. The car is once more covered in a thick coat of ochre muck.

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We should buy some shares in car wash liquid.

See you out there somewhere

On tow and on the go!

We drove out of the Racecourse Caravan Park on Friday Morning, pleased to be travelling legally once more, and pleased to be leaving Broken Hill. We had a really nice time here, it is very comfortable at the Racecourse, we even got to see some practice runs, but we have just spent too much time at Broken Hill. It was the only place we could come to during our nine week lockdown at Menindee, and it seems it just does not want us to leave.

Over the past few weeks, we have applied for both QLD and SA border permits, sadly nobody wants us. So, it looks like we will still be in NSW for Christmas, not Adelaide as we had hoped. Guess who’s coming home for Christmas mammy?

In the meantime, we decided to check out a few places we missed. including the Living Desert Sculptures, just out of town.

Finally, white Cliffs here we come, except… on the way to White Cliffs, we saw a sign for Mutawintji National Park, and thought, why not? Well, let me tell you why not. Because we didn’t check the weather, that’s why not.

We arrived at the campsite in Mutawintji after driving over 139 km of dirt road. Along the way we passed quite a few signs saying, “Dry weather Road”. Now, before you judge, on the way out there the road was dry, and we got to see some Wild horse too.

We arrived at the campground at Mutawintji, and it looked like a place we could stay for a few nights. That is until we realised that we had lost half our water. A stone must have hit, and snapped, the tank’s drain tap, emptying one of the tanks completely. Because the tanks work on a syphoning system, and there was air in one tank, we couldn’t get water from the other. No problems though, we still had 70 litres in Big Ears.

That night it rained, and it rained hard. The following day we spoke to some other campers who said there was more rain on the way. Hmmm, lack of water, “Dry weather” roads, lots of rain coming. This was beginning to spell trouble.

We really didn’t want to be stuck here so decided to make a run for it and go directly to White Cliffs, another 150 odd km’s of dirt. But, not before I got some photos of a young Corella and his folks, and not before Peter almost got carried away by a gazillian hungry ants. Who said he doesn’t have any good dance moves? Sadly, I was too busy laughing to get any photos, and Peter refused to do a re-enactment. I know, buzz-kill.

Long story short, the road from Mutawintji to White Cliffs was quite wet but we were taking it easy, especially through the washouts. Halfway to White Cliffs, we came to a section of road that looked a little suspect. We got out to assess the road. and could see the tracks where a big 4-wheel drive had gone through the first section. It had then turned sharply left, to go up the embankment. If he had done that, we figured he must have had trouble going through and wasn’t going to risk the next section. His manoeuvre might have worked for him, but not something we could risk doing while towing the van.

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That left us with two choices. We could go back to the camp at Mutawintji, and hope we didn’t run out of water while we waited for the rain to pass and the roads to dry. Or, back the way we came, back to Broken Hill.

So, open your doors Broken Hill, ‘cause we’re coming home. I might pick up a Change of Address Form while we’re here this time.

See you out there somewhere

On tow and on the go!

So, here we are, back in Broken Hill. Why? I hear you ask. Well, as I mentioned I let the registration lapse on Chunky Bum and Broken Hill is the closest place we can re-register. Should be easy.

After a few phone calls Peter managed to find a garage that could provide us with a “Blue Slip” (which is actually a brown slip) and made an appointment for 8am on a Tuesday morning. Bright and early, we got to the garage, and then it began.

First up, our “Blue Slip” dude was fifteen minutes late, but that was OK. When he arrived, the first thing he asked was,

‘Where’s your weight certificate?’

We, of course, did not have a weight certificate, so he gave us directions to go and get one, and off we went.

That part was relatively easy, and half an hour later we were back at the garage. The dude looked at the weight cert and said,

              ‘Your rig’s too heavy for me. I can only do rigs up to two and a half ton. I’ll tell you where to go.’

He gave us more directions and…off we went. The next dude had a different problem.

He said, ‘Dunno why he sent you to me. Your rig’s too light for me, I only do rigs over eight ton!’

We must have looked desperate enough for him to take pity on us.

He said, ‘Show me your rig.’

He took some time to look Chunky Bum over, and said, ‘Yeah alright I’ll do it for you, but I’m telling you now, I can’t give you a blue slip ’cause you don’t comply with NSW regulations, you need a break-a-way switch battery monitor in your cab.’ He then went on in detail and told us how to install it, finishing with, ‘It’s easy enough mate , but I can’t do it. Get a break-away switch battery monitor fitted and come back here on Thursday, one o’clock.’

So, off we went. We tried three places before we found someone, ARB, who could supply and fit it for us but when Peter explained the instructions we were given, they said,

              ‘That won’t work!’

Ahh poop!

This led to hours of debate, do we install it the way it should be, or the way we were told to do it? In the end we decided to have it installed to our “Blue slip” dude’s spec. After all, he was the one who was going to give us the little bit of paper we needed to get registered. On the way home, just to be sure, we called into Service NSW to check if there was anything else we would need. They told us,

              ‘You need a NSW address, and we need proof that you can garage the van there.’

This revelation prompted a call to mum, whose address we were going to use. Of course, no problems there. Thank you, mammy.

Thursday came and we were up and ready. Peter hooked Chunky Bum up to Big Ears, and he headed to ARB for his 08:30 appointment. He hung around for an hour and a half then picked the van up at 10:00 and came back here. Here being the Broken Hill Racecourse, (that’s where we’re staying, very nice too,) where we waited for our 13:00 appointment with the “Blue slip” dude.

The ‘Blue slip’ dude checked out the work done, tested the break-away switch, and completed a thorough check of the van. That took about twenty minutes. He then took an hour and ten minutes to complete two, single sided, A4 forms, before giving us our “Blue Slip”.

From there we headed straight to NSW Service Center to get our registration, we weren’t confident of a successful visit, so we had everything possible crossed, just for luck. We needn’t have worried though, the actual application went very well and was quick. Within twenty minutes, we walked out the door, proud owners of a shiny yellow, NSW Licence plate.

The whole process from start to end, cost us eleven hours of our time, and cost a $1000.

See, easy!

See you out there somewhere

On tow and on the go!