The Western Downs- "Glengarry"

 Well, no faithful followers, we haven’t actually started camping yet but continue to mooch off parents- not even our own but the future in-laws of my brother. The best kind really as there’s none of the pressure of making a good impression but all the great times of having someone in common to gossip about and make fun of the only way family can. Anyway, we left Newrybar after the looooooongest breaking of camp ever- my husband is quite the pedantic packer-uper-er which negates my just-chuck-it-iner-er tendencies quite nicely. Anyhoo, we both had butterflies as we drove over the Great Dividing Range, through Toowoomba and onto “Glengarry”, a cattle property between Bowenville and Dalby (a two and a half hour drive west of Brisbane).

Ready for cows.

Steve and Andrea run a property for the Department of Primary Industries, raising cattle which are used to generate tick vaccines for tick prone areas around Australia. To say their work is invaluable is a bit of an understatement, which is exactly the way to describe these lovely, welcoming people. It was quite obvious that they had taken our stay at their property as a pseudo-holiday and I must admit I felt quite guilty knowing they had tonnes of work to do but instead were happy to play tourist guides to us coasties/townies.

Dogs, 4WD bikes, chickens, cows... does it get any better?

Caesar almost had a fit when he saw their airconditioned tractor, even more fitting when he found the horn button and – paradise found - they also had a 4WD bike to be driven around on. Marguerite ‘fed’ the cows, talked to the dogs and harassed the chickens, perplexed at their inability to produce eggs on demand. The poor things, I’m sure they’ll be too stressed to give eggs anytime soon.

Andrea, Marguerite and some egg collecting fun.
Unfortunately out of the 8 or so eggs she
managed to coax out of the chickens, only 3 made
it back to the house intact.                            

 The drought out here is distressing though; there are cracks in the earth, the 2000+ trees just planted are on the brink of dying and whilst the cows are the picture of health, this is clearly due to the feed they are given on a daily basis. Even more heartbreaking are the stories of people further west who have made peace with the drought and are preparing to sell up their family farms for a more secure, if less personally rewarding  life closer to the coast and regular water. I feel like I’m simply making light of the situation when I suggest the mythology of the Queensland Outback, those vast Cattle Stations and the ubiquitous farmer icon of our Australian Identity are under threat like never before. I’ve watched the news clips, seen politicians talk and heard the numbers of new districts added to the tally of those in drought in Central QLD… but witnessed first hand (and really even in a fairly mild form), the idea that adding $1 to every meat purchase as a way of raising funds for these courageous and most humble of people seems the very least this coastal chick can do.

Awful tiger pear.

 But to more pressing concerns ( ;) ) the tiger pear!? What the..? Apparently this (ob)noxious cactus ‘jumps’ out at you, especially if you are a metre tall and answer to the name of ‘Caesar’. I could hear the boy crying from the house, thinking he had fallen over and was therefore in a little ‘I’m just too annoyed to get up unassisted’ moment, I didn’t rush over, until I could see Marguerite hovering over him, pointing and clearly also a little distressed. This awful plant is cactus like to look at, full of barbs and was full of Caesar by the time I got there. Then I was full of it (and still am at time of print) as I tried to work his shoes, pants and nappy off. Luckily these three items copped the worst of the prickles, but we had to use pliers to get the rest out of his hands and feet (and mine later on). I always wondered why country people coated their children in denim. Now I know.

We are off to the Bunya Mountains tomorrow for a respite from the dusty wind and then it’s more unchartered territory. I’m still feeling the comfort of parental arms and have done nothing more in the van than boiled some water, but I’m almost ready to embark on a full time camping experience without any safety nets. Almost.

Tractors and cows. Exciting.

These two working dogs are eyeing off some cattle around 20 metres away.
Steven communicates with them mostly via whistles and participates in lots of competitions.

Steve in action with his one of his working dogs, mustering some cattle.
His favourite dog, Annie, is the Australian champion.

Clay pigeon shooting at "Glengarry".
All in an evening's entertainment.

.. And there goes the clay pigeon ;) He did hit a couple!

Steve and some tiger pear he 'picked up' retrieving a plastic bag. 

A beautiful Western Downs sunset.

Minyon Falls

Most of my posts have been, shall we say, reader-centric. So as a nod to all those out there who groan everytime they see these posts are longer than two sentences, this one's for you...

We drove out to Minyon Falls which on Whereis.com was only a 26min drive from Newrybar, but when it felt like we were about to come around a corner and find ourselves in Nimbin, I hung my 'local' head in shame and deferred to the Navigon on Fiela's phone. We'd missed the turnoff because the sign was missing and congratulated ourselves on negotiating this little navigational hurdle fight free.

The drive up to Minyon Falls in the Nightcap National Park.
Beautiful rainforest and just enough dirt to feel like you're kilometres from anywhere.

"What the?? Where's Nana?"

"Walking? Come on Marguerite - you can do this!!" She actually said that. Hilarious and kind of scary as I could almost hear the Dora the Explorer anthem. 

Father of the year carrying Caesar in our new Osprey baby carrier. Super comfortable and with some clever little storage spaces. 

Minyon Falls- see that damp skid mark? That's it. 

Rocks and water at the bottom of the 'falls'.

I love a bushwalk starting with a boarded path- lulls you into a false sense of security that it will be easy, requiring no effort and certainly no steps or hills.

Happy days! Fast forward two hours and it's a very different story... "My legs just have no energy left in them..."

The Bush Tucker man and his willing assistants.

A scribbly bark tree hollowed out by termites. 

And the apples do not fall far from the tree. This 'little' stop  took about 20 minutes as Fiela and Marguerite harassed the termites. I looked on with bemusement.

So we did about four kilometres of the Minyon Falls track, halfway to the bottom and back. Marguerite walked pretty much the entire way- the last 500 metres was a bit harrowing for everyone but we think she did brilliantly for her first walk. Apart from the backpack for Caesar, we were totally unprepared- I wore Crocs thinking it would be fine but the pain in my calves for the next three days said otherwise.  Mosquitoes attacked us. Sunburn was rife. And not one sweet chocolately treat between us to ease the sweaty work of bushwalking. Unattractive hiking boots I will find you in the bottom of the van...

Week One: the Far North Coast of NSW

So we’ve been on the road a week. There have been no spectacular disasters but I attribute that to the fact we’ve been far from roughing it. Let’s face it: ‘camping’ on your parents’ front lawn is a pretty cushy way to ease ourselves into the trip. We haven’t had one meal inside the camper, I’ve managed to read the first two Hunger Games books; it didn’t even cross Marguerite’s mind that she’d be sleeping anywhere except in her room in Nana’s house. Yes, life is pretty sweet at the Uys Huis at the moment.

We drove down the M1 from Brisbane, through the sprawling back suburbs of the Gold Coast and once we crossed the Tweed River Bridge, I could feel my bones relax as the green hills of the Far North Coast of New South Wales rolled up to Mount Warning and cane fields began carpeting the flats. There it was: that comforting feeling of being home.

Newrybar.

So we set up on the front lawn of my parents’ place (minor argument over the spirit level and whether we would be having our heads pooling up with blood through the night) and eased ourselves into life with Nana and Poppy.

I went into Bangalow one day and had a great lunch at Town Cafe, an awesome café doing lunches which I can only describe as being ‘honest gourmet’- I had pumpkin lasagna with hazelnuts which was great, topped off with the most luscious chocolate brownie ever (as my worldly friend quipped “calories don’t count when you’re ‘doing lunch!’” I am so on board with that!!) and a waitress so sweet I wanted to take her home in my handbag. Apparently they do very upmarket degustation dinners which are amazing. Aaah how Bangalow has changed from hinterland backwater into a little town with so much spunk it’s a destination in its own right- no mean feat with hipster (note: NOT hippie) mecca Byron Bay just down the road.

Fiela and I met up with friends for brunch at Harvest Café in Newrybar one morning and were reminded why it’s so important not to live a few hundred metres away from an uber awesome foodie institution- having eggs Florentine with house cured salmon gravlax wasn’t enough, I had to go next door to the deli and get a huge sourdough and house churned butter with seasalt and rosemary. Bread + butter Harvest style = fatty boombalada.

Our family.

We went to Minyon Falls for a walk- that’s in a pending post, celebrated my brother’s 40^th birthday with 100 of his nearest and dearest, celebrated again the next morning when the donations they had collected on behalf of my brother for the Westpac Helicpoter Rescue Service were found, having been lost for a number of hours (much to the relief of my frantic sister-in-law). We’ve had numerous dinners with my family, extended and immediate, Fiela got a surf in at Wategoes, put the kids in the naughty corner innumerable times as they throw their weight around in what I can only imagine is a grandparent inspired rebellion at any form of disciplinary measure from Fiela and I (game on you little buggers). Culled some crap from the van, fitted the bike rack, rented out our house (biiiiiig sigh of relief) and generally decompressed after what was a fairly intense start to 2014.

Party time!

Now we have said the bulk of our goodbyes and I doubt there will be tears tomorrow as we head off, timing our departure hours before our welcome is officially worn out (jokes Mum!). Next stop a cattle station near Dalby and what feels like the actual start to this adventure. We are as ready as we are ever going to be.

Chocolate Balls

I love making these and always try to have some in the fridge for harrowing low blood sugar moments. They are healthy, filling and satisfying and my kids think they are a huge treat. Alas I can’t  take the credit- these were passed on to me by my health conscious friend Maggie who is an expert when it comes to anything dessert-ish and responsible for the derailment of many a good intention diet wise on my part.

Dates are such an awesome ingredient to help sweeten dishes instead of processed sugars. Bianca of Wholefoods Simply is an absolute master at creating sweet snacks and desserts without using processed ingredients of any kind, something I'm trying to do more and more.

Making these requires a high powered food processing device of some kind- I use my blender but you could use a food processor or Thermomix (they still haven’t given me one- bastards).

Chocolate Balls

Makes about 16

1 cup of raw cashews

1 ½  cup of dates

2 heaped dessert spoons of cacao (or cocoa)

Shredded coconut

Process the cashews and dates until finely chopped.

Add cacao and process.

Add 2 teaspoons of water and process to bind.

Roll tablespoons of the mixture (with dampened hands) and roll in the shredded coconut.

Refrigerate until you can’t stand it anymore and MUST eat one.

Enjoy.

Stop #1: Children's playgrounds in Brisbane

I remember when going to the park was fairly exciting because there were swings made out of old car tyres, a  scarily tall metal slippery slide sitting on its own and maybe some monkey bars. And I was happy with that. Throw in a see-saw or a spinning wheel and I was in heaven. So I've always thought my children were incredibly lucky to live in very close proximity to a great park with all of the above plus lots more in modern plastic all under a huge shade sail.  However, as we travelled to the big city, the first stop on this around Australia trip, I realised how provincial our park really is...

I'll spare you the details of our last week in the house. In short, it was 15 hour days of packing, cleaning, yelling, swearing and manoeuvring our way around endless hiccups to at last pull away from our spotless and empty house.

We drove straight down to Yeronga, Brisbane, where our good friends Geoff and Peppa live with their two daughters (of 1770 fame). Yeronga was one of the worst hit suburbs of the 2011 floods, and also one of Brisbane's most exclusive. Luckily these guys now live in a great house well out of the flood zone, having been around 10cms from water entering their previous stilt home in Tennyson, one suburb upriver. They evacuated that house with a 9 day old baby and all their possessions within a 36 hour period.

Three years on, we had a lovely dinner, drank wine, gossiped and went to bed absolutely exhausted. Waking up feeling decidedly shell shocked, we took the kids down to the Tennyson playground, opposite the Queensland Tennis Centre and home of the Brisbane International. Marguerite laid eyes on this playground and didn't close them for about half an hour. There were age related areas, a water play area, a cubed climbing area, bike and scooter tracks, educational signs explaining historical buildings and the role of the river, a cafe serving good coffee and food... all looking out over the Brisbane River. No wonder kids are so overstimulated these days- God knows I felt like I needed a little lie down after wandering around trying to keep an eye on each of my children. There were also a few kids parties on the go at the park too, just to keep things interesting. Anyone would think I never feed my kids: as soon as they see bunting and party hats, they become Scabby McScabsons and weasel their way up to the chip table quick smart. Luckily for us two out of our combined four children threw wobblies that only food and sleep could cure, so we headed home after 45 minutes. Marguerite thought this was quite cruel, but I lured her out with the promise of TV. She's been on quite the come-down after pretty much watching ABC4Kids for 12 hours straight every day for the last 2 weeks.

We headed out that afternoon to another park on the Brisbane Corso, this one was a bit older but still impressive by Sunrise Beach standards! Caesar managed to fall off a 1.2 metre ledge onto the sand floor of the park (he cried, but only because he wanted to get back up on the ledge. I am a bit fearful of what's to come with him, honestly!) and Marguerite sat quietly enough in one of the tunnels, eating the entire contents of a jar of olives (I think she left most of the pips in the jar, but definitely drank the olive water/oil).  We attempted to catch up with friends who had come along and all of whom had children or one on the way. Great plan to meet at the park so the kids are entertained and we can chat- clearly the bleach fumes were to blame here as I am certain not one conversation came to a natural end, but instead were interrupted by some child-related incident. It was fun, but let's face it, catch ups are always vastly more efficient without children. Fell asleep on the couch at 7:30pm.

So it's Monday. It's March. We're in Northern NSW at my parents' house for a week, more than enough time to re-pack the camper- we've already identified a few things that need to be culled from our overloaded house on wheels before heading off into the unknown. For now, we are slowly decompressing and enjoying actually being able to give the kids a bit of attention. I even promised to read a long book to Marguerite during the day tomorrow, maybe go to a park. And not a box or piece of packing tape in sight: I'm feeling more vacation-y by the minute!

PS apologies for the lack of photos- I packed the camera into the car a few days ago and have only just found it again.

We are the Uys Huis

In the beginning there was nothing but a Man, a Woman, a Girl, a Boy and a campertrailer called the S.S. Uys Huis (House).

Then there were camping chairs, melamine plates, solar powered lights and nifty gadgets that folded down to nothing and back up to something, well, nifty and these gadgets (so I have been told) were totally necessary.
Now we are officially on our Big Trip (March 1st 2014): the circumnavigation of Australia, a country twice the size of Europe, around 16,500kms of coastline... And us, a little family hoping to see some of it with a modicum of composure.

We've begun our journey on the Far North Coast of New South Wales and will travel North up to Karumba through March and April. May will see us in Darwin.

Anyway, stay tuned for the Life and Times of the SS Uys Huis has begun.

The truth.

I’d like to start this belated post with a huge dose of happiness, a sense of wellbeing, the feeling of absolute elation as I look down the barrel of ten months holiday with just a smidge of smugness that it’s all happening. However, this post is not a Facebook update so what I’m actually going to start with is a big fat “Faaaarrrcccckkkk!!!!” as I swill down a glass of wine and sit in the stink of my unwashed self. Getting a visual?

Yes, the house WILL be rented on time. Yes, we WILL fit everything necessary into the van. Yes, I WILL have the house cleaned and empty in a week’s time. Yes, my children WILL be ever so helpful and play quietly in a corner with something which creates absolutely no mess or noise.  I do actually believe and feel all of this (except the last thing: that’s for everyone who has ever tried to clean/pack/organise anything with a sense of urgency and 2 small children in a 500m radius- we all need a laugh) will be achieved, but the getting to that point has been pretty ordinary. No one loves moving, but like all necessary evils, it is, well, necessary.

So anyway, we’re still looking for the perfect (read: any) tenant, there are still boxes standing around and everything is pretty filthy. But we did start to throw, and I mean that in the literal sense, gear into the van; the walls and cupboards are beginning to look bare and our wheelie bin has been chockas with crap from The Cleanse every week for the last month. Actually our neighbour’s bin has been pretty full too- thanks Brinkers! So things are moving in the right direction. Except for our bank account.

I watched with interest some Grey Nomads on The Project having a whinge about the demise of free camping spots in Victoria.  Essentially, millions of dollars are spent maintaining these campgrounds each year and the newly elected Napthine Government has sniffed this out. So we’ll probably be paying $19 a night to camp in what was a free site. All other campsite charges are going up a few dollars a night as well, which I didn’t think was such a bad thing since this should pay for the maintenance and perhaps addition of camping facilities. But now, having blown out on a baby hiking carrier, a dual battery pack for our fridge in the car, organisational paraphernalia for inside the van etc etc, those free camping sites are starting to look pretty sweet. So did the cleaners who were going to be doing the final clean of our vacant home… I need to buy some gloves and a mask. Please refer to the categories about being a lazy mole listed in the Cleaning Blinds post.

So while the here and now of our almost nomadic situation feels pretty frustrating, it is also very transient- we won’t be in this packing and cleaning hell for long. Eight days in fact. That is totally doable.

And if you haven’t banged your head on the keyboard yet, comatose from my ‘travel blog’ which has blogged about everything EXCEPT the actual ‘travel’ it was conceived for… tell me, what’s the best thing about Carnarvon Gorge? That’s our first ‘big’ stop, and we plan to be there in the second week of March. Do you have any tips for the Gorge itself or places on the way? After spending the first week of March in Newrybar, Harvest Café at our fingertips, the idea of Central Queensland sounds very exotic... hopefully it will smell nice too.

Or just not like bleach.