Sunshine daily

Goodness! I can hardly believe our youngest is 18 months old! Where did that time go?

Of course I know where that time has gone, all 18 months of it. It got swallowed into millions of bite size chunks given over to feeding, settling, coddling, nappy-changing, soothing, dressing, bathing, scooter rides, trampoline bouncing, stair climbing….

In fact, I well remember feeling the same emotion when my twins suddenly turned 2.

What is it about these early years that seem to elude normal time and space constraints? It’s a parallel universe of life unfolding both lightning fast (mostly in hindsight) and painstakingly slow (independence takes soooo long!).

From a cranky, dark-haired, chubby little newborn, Violet has turned into a blonde-headed, babbling, cheery, strong-willed little soul, who found her way firmly into our hearts and heads.

We can’t imagine life without her (yes, there was some strong opposition from her siblings at the start!) and she makes us laugh – a lot – which is such a good thing when this independence gig takes so long!

Having mastered rolling, crawling, walking and feeding herself, her agenda now is TALK, TALK, TALK. She’s even giving Oscar a run for his money.

To add to her first handful of words – daddy, boat, water, mine – she has added nuts, did (lid), mummy, oshkah (Oscar), bubie (Ruby) and poo (wee or poo take your pick)”.

At the grand old age of 1 and half, her favourite past-times are running away with a phone, eating while standing, lying on her tummy on the boat, having a shower with her siblings and being pushed around on a tricycle/wheelbarrow/bike. Oh, and of course, being carried around by “mummydaddy” (Mummy or Dadday take your pick).

Violet comes home from hospital

Violet and I out and about at the Bluff

Last year’s family portrait

Still mastering the art of eating.

She has places to go.

In late 2013, on the back of 6 months travelling around the country, we rolled into Iluka with our small brood lined across the back seats, our campervan bobbing along behind, ready to slow down and enjoy an extended beach holiday amongst old friends.

Unofficially, it was also a trial move to Northern NSW, the place of our childhoods and the place we wanted to raise our little people.

So with that in mind, we rented a house, enrolled the kids in school and bit by bit, knitted ourselves into the daily lives and rhythms of Iluka and its townsfolk.

We never quite made it back to Brisbane and our old life there.

The Ilukians have embraced us, the beach is a regular salve for the soul and it’s been a joy to go about our daily errands on bikes, scooters and tinnies. Not to mention barefeet.

Our relocation has also been a story of energy, the kind of energy it takes to make bold and sweeping changes, the kind of changes that you wouldn’t sign up for regularly.

Since moving to Iluka, we have permanently relocated (selling our old house and buying one here), simplified parenting roles (one worker, one stay-at-home-parent), had another baby (yes indeeed!), traded old jobs for new ones and experimented with homeschooling.

My energy, not to mention my sleep, has been in short supply.

Apologies Sunshine Daily and my faithful little band of readers.

I’ve missed this writing space, and I’m back.

The latest family portrait – which now includes six of us!

Belated greetings from Canberra, where we perched up for a week with friends in their cozy bungalow surrounded by bushland, just north of the city.

Simon, Simone and Mila, freshly repatriated from a posting in Vanuatu, generously welcomed us into their home and handled our tribe’s natural exuberance with laid-back grace and humour.

It was a great opportunity to reconnect, see Canberra through local eyes and get to know Mila, who we’ve only seen in snatches over the last 3 years.

During our week’s stay, we mixed and matched domestic days with tourist days, a rhythm that seems to work well for us on this long-haul trip. Domestic days were spent working with Simon in the garden, doing craft on the verandah, riding to the local park or preparing pizzas for dinner. On our tourist days, we visited the National Art Gallery, the Science Museum and the Arboretum as well as familiarising ourselves with famous landmarks like Lake Burley Griffin and Anzac Parade, as we navigated our way to and fro.

National treasures aside, I reckon if I asked each of the kids what they liked best about their time in Canberra, they’d say “going to Mila’s dance class and wearing her ballet shoes” (Ivy), “playing on Mila’s iPad” (Ruby) and “gardening with Simon” (Oscar). More than a month down the track, these experiences are still high on the topic list at dinnertime.

Dean and I loved having old friends to hang out with. Time with friends and family was in short supply during this trip of ours!

Oh, but that was more than a month ago now and it seems like a whole world away.

Since our visit to Canberra in early September, we’ve travelled another 1000 km north and have settled down in sunny, sleepy Iluka, where we’ve rented a house for a while. (Yes, the wheels have stopped turning!)

As well as living in a house again, we’ve made big changes to our clothing, routine and diet too. We’ve switched from wearing beanies and boots to wide-brimmed hats and sandals, all but stashing our warm weather clothes at the back of our cupboards. We’re loving the warmth up north and we’ve grown accustomed to shedding the layers again.

Now that the kids are enrolled in preschool and kindy, we’ve signed up for lots more structure in our days and a little more kid-free time. Oh It’s a novel and welcome change to the travelling routine.

All in all, it’s been a lot of change in a short time and sometimes, it feels like we’ve travelled to another country or into someone else’s life.

When I stop to think about Canberra, and try to make my recollections coherent (which is proving hard), I think about the weather first – the cold, the drizzle, the internal heating and condensation on the windows.

And then I recall the sounds. Mostly, I recall the suburban stillness, interrupted now and then by boisterous cockatoos and chirpy parakeets.

Then I remember some of the sights – rows of  four storey buildings, grand boulevards, cycling businessmen, forested ridges, grazing sheep and national monuments. It’s a eclectic slideshow of images I conjure up.

There’s a lot to love about Canberra, even though it is decidedly odd. Do other capital cities appear so contrived? Are they plonked in the middle of farming land? How do they compare to other capitals borne out of disagreement?

But apart from being odd, I was surprised how much I liked the place. Seeing a place through locals’ eyes never seems to hurt though, does it? That Simon, he makes an excellent bike-riding tour guide.

I like how its uber-planned layout makes it both grand and easily navigable.

I like its concentration of national, public treasures.

I like how you could work at the top end of town yet escape for a lunchtime bike ride in the bush.

I like how public and private housing are mixed and mashed.

I like it’s proximity to the coast and the snowy mountains.

Given the slightest opportunity, I’d happily ensconce myself in the Canberra ‘burbs once again and keep on exploring. I think I’d sign up for less car troubles (yes, there was another unfortunate incident), more national treasure hunting and some long bumpy rides through the scrub. Oh, and maybe some up-close sightings of some politicians of the day.

Wet and wild at the National Museum.

Ivy and Mila at dance class.

Pizza time in the kitchen with Dean, Master Chef. Mila at left.

Simon and Oscar working out which seeds to plant.

Oscar talking to Simone about the goings on in the garden.

Out and about at the Pod, a new sci-fi playground at the National Arboretum.

Breaking down again, this time at the National Art Gallery. At least it provided entertainment while we lunched in the car!

Ivy and Ruby play with the suspended ball out front of the Questacon.

Dean and Oscar building spaceships at the National Museum.

Going out to breakfast with old friends - Daina, left, Simone, right.

Dining in our new kitchen at Iluka. From our second storey kitchen we have a small view of Clarence upriver and a mighty fine view of all the boats on their way to the boat ramp.

Getting ready for the school and kindy run. Melissa and her tribe pick us on their way to school and the kids propel themselves in motley crews of bikes and scooters.

Heading down to sunny Southside beach for another busy morning at the beach with friends.

Dean and Ruby gear up for a paddle and a fish not far from our house.

Ivy and Ruby exploring the rockpools at Woody Head, where Friday night barbeques are a regular social event.

My proud stash of ripening tomatoes from the local farmers' markets at Yamba.

Ruby and I at the beach.

My postcard shot of Iluka. Don't you love the colours on this umbrella?

Greetings from sunny, sultry Mildura, where we felt washed up and marooned for a week.

There are worse places to be marooned, to be sure, and Mildura is a fine place, but just not in this way, at this time. We’re all feeling a little travel-worn and weren’t primed for a rocky start and an indefinite stay. Ahem.

We entered Mildura late at night, on the back of a tow truck with the family folded up like origami in the cab. The car was strapped to the tray while the campervan rolled nonchalantly behind.

We had broken down hours ago, at dusk, some 80 km out of town, in the middle of an uninhabited stretch of Riverina agriculture. We had internet but no phone.

By the time the tow truck had rescued us and the outskirts of Mildura shone in the headlights, the kids were bug-eyed with excitement and Dean and I were at our wits end.

Four hours is a LONG time to run surveillance on three rowdy kids who are confined to a skinny strip of fly-blown highway.

Four hours is a LONG time to attempt entertainment when you are just coping yourselves.

But the kicker for me was when the tow truck finally turned up with seats for two passengers instead of five. “No-one told us there were three kids” they protested.  “Really? We told the RACQ we had three kids in the back,” we retaliated.

I was livid.

But the merry dance of blame-mongering was not going to get us anywhere and we had to face some brutal facts: we were fast running out of palatable options, stranded out here on the highway with trucks, headlights, flies and burrs.

I decided to run the seatbelt-free gauntlet, letting the kids sit on the bench seat in cab, but then fretted non-stop all the way to town, imaging all kinds of car crash scenarios.

Productive use of energy, I know.

The kicker for Dean was that we’d just had the car repaired two days ago, in Tanunda. Dean was incensed because the car’s symptoms seemed to point to a sloppy mechanic – someone who had taken car parts apart but not taken care putting them back in. (I imagined the hapless mechanic tripping over our nuts and bolts scuttling around his workshop floor.)

The next day dawned with less ‘woo is us’ and more ‘let’s look at our options’.

As we attended to breakdown administrivia, we asked endless questions about breakdown entitlements, car repair schedules and car hire options. None of the answers were music to our ears: we learnt that our entitlements were towing only, we’d have to be in Mildura for week and car hire was complicated with three child seats.

And after weighing up our transport options, we concluded that, for the same cost of car hire, Dean and I could buy a scooter, bike and accessories so we could be as mobile as the kids. Up until now, we’d just walked while they scooted but with all their practice they were cutting quite a pace.

Mildura is the perfect place to get around on wheels. It’s a flat, sprawling town organised neatly along grid lines and railway lines and due to their large council budget, has wide, smooth footpaths that cater for pedestrians as well as bikes. What more could a self-propelled crew want?

We headed off to Kmart for the afternoon and kitted ourselves out with wheels, helmets, pumps, spare tyres and locks. In the words of my brother, there was ‘long dwell time’ and ‘high spend’, meaning we played with their toys for too long and spent too much.

We scooted and skated and rode our way home along Deakin Avenue, to the dodgiest caravan park in town (the perils of late night accommodation options).

Over the next week, we rolled up and down Deakin Avenue everyday, taking over the pavement. Dean and Ruby usually took the lead, while Ivy straddled the middle and Oscar and I brought up the rear. We kept the pedestrians on their toes as we stopped, started, bunched up, spread out and carved random tracks along Mildura’s pavements.

Finally mobile, we took in the sights of Mildura:

• taking a leisurely cruise on HMAS Rothbury, an old paddle steamer that still navigates the locks on the Murray
• dining daily at Stephano’s de Pieri’s Cafe Bakery (we just couldn’t help ourselves)
• purchasing Stephanos locally grown olive oil, sundried muscats and hefty sourdough loaves
• marvelling at an exhibit of scientific illustrations by Gould and Audubon, at the Mildura Arts Centre
• inviting ourselves along to a local playgroup (what happens when your kids cling longingly on fences outside church playgroups)
• and reading lots of silly stories in quiet voices (not) at the local library.

Broken down in the Riverina with only trucks, tankers and the odd grey nomad for company.

Trying to calm Oscar down - he's had enough of staying still and being pestered by the flies.

Heading down to HMAS Rothbury dockside at Mildura wharf.

HMAS Rothbury waiting patiently for her customers.

Ruby and Oscar working out what the big round thing was for.

Ruby, Oscar and Ivy being cajoled into a photo opportunity - this was probably our 10th attempt!

Ivy, Ruby and friend up front of the paddle steamer, watching it navigate one of 37 locks on the Murray River.

Ivy, Dean and Oscar taking it easy on the upper deck.

Testing the merchandise at Kmart.

Riding back to the caravan park on my new shiny cruiser.

Dean chuffed to be riding a new deck; kids chuffed to get some election day balloons to tie on to their bikes.

What a difference a week makes.

Last week we camped amongst the eucalypts and conifers at Wilpena Pound, with regular visits from emus and kangaroos; this week we’re camping on water-logged lawn in the Barossa at a caravan park where rabbits have free reign.

It’s a little bizarre.

There are so many rabbits, I reckon I could toss a badly-aimed net and catch enough for bunny stew. If only the bunny-lovers would let me. Then I’d throw in some local stinging nettle for good measure as it thrives here too.

Weren’t rabbits declared an environmental disaster some time ago? Wouldn’t the local vineyards protest? I am more than a little puzzled…

I digress.

Apart from the weirdness of camping with Peter Rabbit and his friends, we’ve had ourselves a lovely time in the Barossa, cycling along disused railways, winding our way through vineyards and throwing our wallets around in the name of good food and wine.

Good food is one of those things we’ve really missed, cruising around remote parts of Australia.

In the name of Good Food, we’ve sampled:

– local Germanic delights such as spicy Mettwurst, wine-fermented sauerkraut and nutty pumpernickel
– sweet and sour verjuice-soaked roasted veggies at a Maggie Beer Farm Shop cooking demonstrations
– local Jersey cream from Greenock which we’ve eaten most nights dolloped atop sauteed apples and pears
– chewy, mildly-sweet, sundried fruit from the dried-fruit capital of Anguston
– and many more local food delights from the Barossa Farmers’ Market where we had ourselves a gluttonous repast after a well-earned bike ride from Tanunda to Angaston, a 20km round trip with kids on the back.

Ironically, we didn’t spend much time or money at the vineyards.

Yes, that’s a little bizarre too, I’ll admit. But what with my restless legs (which rebel against alcohol, sugar and caffeine) and Dean’s preference for beer, we mostly admired the vineyards from bike seats and only indulged in some last-minute gifts for friends and family.

As well as throwing our wallet around for good food and wine, we blessed a certain mechanic with our hard-earned cash.
Our stay here at Tanunda turned out a little longer once we started hearing loud clunks reverberating from the rear wheels.
And sadly, now that we have moved on from the Barossa to Mildura, Victoria, our car troubles are still plaguing us. More on that story to come.

Farewell to thee, Barossa.

May we wine a little more and dine a little less, again.

Roos, emus and bushwalking boffins: that’s how I’ll remember Wilpena Pound.

From our lush campsite in the Pound’s main campground, we enjoyed daily visits by all three – roos, emus and bushwalkers.

The same family of roos, a mother, her joey and teenager, came by in the afternoons, nonchalantly nibbling at the bright green shoots by our camp. The teenager was confident dining away from his mother, but the joey wanted to stay warm inside his mother’s pouch thank you very much. Every now and then, she’d turf him out, forcing her joey to eat and stand on his own. His ungainly stance made us laugh, especially when he overbalanced and rolled onto the grass. After a few tumbles, he then tried to get back into the pouch, whereupon he was routinely pushed back. She was tough that euro mum. I took a few parenting tips from her, and the next morning, calmly and confidently turfed the kids out of the van earlier than normal. “It’s too cold Mum!” they moaned. “Well, just put some more clothes on!” I replied A few beanies, mittens later and out they went and off they scooted, happily touring the campground until morning tea.

Sigh.

Once or twice a day, a pair of emus also paid us a visit, sometimes just cruising through our campground patch and other times, staying longer to wallow and preen in the sluggish creek. We named them Edward and Edwina, in honour of the book, Edward the Emu by Sheena Knowles and Rod Clement. We were thrilled to see them up this close and calmly going about their daily business.

One afternoon we sat down quite close to them, observing their bathing rituals and ungainly movements as they folded their legs backwards to crouch down in the water. Ruby entertained us with her emu bathing rendition, superbly mimicking their whole body shake, trying to dry out her feathers after her creek bath.

After they had finally finished their lengthy bathing session, we followed their footsteps to the creek to fish out their beautiful feathers that had fallen down during vigorous preening. Have you ever seen emu feathers up close? They are so fine and unexpectedly beautiful. Well, now, thanks to my keen-eyed children, I now have myself a stash.

One afternoon, as I headed out of the campground on my way south to Hawker, I all but drove through a flock of emus. Luckily I wasn’t driving that fast (it’s hard to drive fast and listen to French at the same time), because I managed to slow down enough to hurry them along a little and witness the world’s funniest running creature at full speed. I don’t have the words to describe their gait but because they seem to have backwards-fitting knee joints, it just looks wrong. It’s a bit like the bird above the knee joint is moving one way while the lower leg moves the other way. Just too funny and weird. Mesmering.

Wilpena Pound is the big drawcard for bushwalkers coming to the Flinders Rangers. So it’s not uncommon to see the bushwalking boffins out and about with their all-weather walking gear, brand-name boots and walking sticks with go Pros attached. It’s a sight to behold!

Unfortunately for Dean and I though, our kids could care less about bushwalking. Why walk when you can run, climb or dig sand? So after a few unsuccessful attempts at taking them on short walks, where one of us faced defeat and supervised not far from the carpark, we hatched a workable solution. We took it in turns to go for early morning walks, heading off in the dark at about 5am and returning about mid-morning. It’s sounds a little extreme, but if you called it “sunrise walking tours” it’s sounds quite reasonable doesn’t it?

When it was my turn to tour the pound at sunset, I headed off into the darkness with my headtorch and coffee cup. Warm cups beat fingerless gloves hands down. Thank goodness for the cloudless sky and the full moon, because had it not been for both, I would have been too spooked to walk beyond the trail marker. After all these years I am still a scaredy cat at night. But once I got going and ignored the spooky thoughts, I was mesmerised by the moonlit bushwalk. There are sights and sounds that you’ll just never see or hear when you walk during the day. The ones I’ll remember most are the owls hooting and the long, willowy shadows of the trees across the path.

Even though we stayed at Wilpena for a week, neither Dean nor I felt like we did it justice. It is a bushwalking haven with its steep peaks, narrow gorges and long marked trails, so once the kids are a bit older and show more interest in walking along rather than up, we’ll make our way back here one day. I too, aspire to be a bushwalking boffin.

The Flinders Ranges on our left as we head up the highway from Quorn and Hawker. Wilpena Pound is not far away.

Sandstone ruins like this one are a common sight all around this area of South Australia.

Here we are, having afternoon tea at one of the ruins located a little closer to the road. This one had 4 rooms each with a fireplace still intact. Oh, the luxury!

Dean is inspecting all the things that have been thrown down the well.

Enjoying a campfire BBQ - barbequed capsicum, haloumi, sweet potato, sausages, leeks and egglplant.

The kids are engrossed in their meal - but not for too long - and then decide to cover themselves in campfire ash.

Here comes Edward. Really I have no idea if he is an Edward or an Edwina but Edward he is to us.

The kids and I observing Edward's bathing ritual in the algae-filled creek just below our campsite.

And here's Edward again on another day, as we spotted him from the car window. He's not far from our campsite.

My collection of emu feathers - now I just have to work out what to do with them!

Ivy and Ruby cavorting on the slacklines we set up around our campsite. Their antics entertained the grey-nomad passerbys no end.

Oscar manages to sneak in some slackline time for himself too and crosses to the other side in his ever-so-steady fashion.

Ruby finds some time to herself on the slack line too. That's our linen for all the world to see strung up behind her.

Oscar and I walking through the campground on our way to the office. Notice the lovely wooded nature of this park? All these trees were a welcome salve to the crowded, orderly caravan parks we have been staying at recently.

Dean and the kids jump out of the car to collect firewood.

Ivy is more interested in untangling her rope than collecting any firewood. Though, truth be told, the untangled rope did come in handy when we needed to bundle up the firewood.

One afternoon we all head off to see the petroglyphs at Arkaroo Rock, not far south of Wilpena. This is a view of the eastern flank of Wilpena Pound as we neared the rock.

While Dean stays behind to look after Ivy and Oscar, who just want to play near the carpark, Ruby and I continue walking. Isn't the vegetation beautiful?

Ruby telling me a story with all her gestures, as we get closer to Arkaroo Rock.

There's a reason these sacred places have bars on them! It was like nectar to a bee.

Unnamed pretty flora - name anyone?

Ditto.

These large knobbly she-oak pods are all over Wilpena Pound and the surrounding bushland.

View of the sky as I headed off for my sunrise tour of Wilpena Pound.

View of the sun rising through Sliding Rock Gap on the eastern side of Wilpena Pound.

A few minutes later. The cloud formation was just stunning and very much worth the cold, dark start to the morning.

View a few minutes later. As it was sunrise and I was getting cold just standing and watching, I decided to do some yoga to keep warm. The viewing platform was the perfect size for Sun Salutation. One of the yoga postures, called Downward Dog, has you on all fours looking back through your legs. This was my Downward Dog view!

Later on, I walked down from the viewing platform and headed inside the Pound where the ground is flat and the vegetation badly denuded due to 150 years of government-sanctioned pastoral leases. I crossed paths with a bushwalking boffin on his way to St Mary's Peak, the highest point in the Pound, and he kindly took a photo of me.

View inside the Pound up to the mountain range thats forms a near circle around the land inside. The early pastoralists called it the pound, like a fenced enclosure for their sheep.

Dean's view of the Pound when he arrived at the same spot at Wangara Lookout. The Pound was filled with early morning mist, covering the lowlands inside the outer rim.

View of the Pound as the mist headed out the Sliding Gorge Gap.

Back at the campsite - here our are daily visitors, the small mob of euros that I mentioned. This photo is taken from our kitchen.

Here they are again, going about their feeding session. While the kangaroos visit, the feisty birdlife is never far away.

Ruby taking it all in.

SIgnage for the boffins is everywhere.

And let's not forget about elevation either.

During our stay at Wilpena we have never seen so many kangaroo skeletons and carcasses. Here's a well-preserved roo foot spotted in one of the nearby sandy riverbeds.

Some sobering signage on my Wangara Lookout walk into Wilpena Pound - listing all the species that no longer exist in the Flinders Ranges. Sadly it's quite a list.

On a lighter note, one of my sunrise photos taken from Wangara Lookout, just inside the Pound.

Salutations from Melrose, the oldest town in the (Southern) Flinders Ranges, where we’ve been camping with my in-laws and a bunch of raucous, sliver-haired Hot Rodders from Adelaide.

We braved the cold wet weather yet again down here in the southern Flinders, but this time, at least we had the sense to camp in town, closer to wet-weather amenities like the cosy Blundstone Blacksmith’s Cafe (an intact blacksmiths from 1940) and the plush insides of Jenny and Tony’s modern Jayco.

Believe me, we’ve had to resort to both these locations many times during our stay!

Apart from the rain, cold and mud, we’ve had a great time. There were patches of sunny sky and with the Hot Rodders in town, there was plenty to see and do.

Apparently this group comes every two years and during their stay they work with the local primary school to run community events, with all proceeds going to the school. As you can imagine they are a bit hit in this small town.

The event that brought squeals and yahoos from our lot were the gold-coin-donation car rides. I didn’t know a gold coin could bring that much fun! I hollered quite a few squeals of delight myself.

In between squeals, I got talking to one Hot Rodder, who revealed that he’d bought his 1930s Ford from a farmer in Utah, which came with bullet holes and all. I liked to imagine he’d bought himself a bottlegging wagon but he thought more likely it had been used for shooting practice. Given their gun idolaltry, he’s probably right.

During breaks in the weather, we followed various walking paths in and around town, sometimes along the creek at the back of the caravan park and sometimes through the backstreets of town. Wherever we headed, there were always curiosities to discover. Some memorable ones include a backyard of exotic pets, a rope bridge across the creek, ex-army trucks converted into hotel rooms, hollowed-out red river gums, forageable greens, skate ramps and raggedy shorn sheep.

For a pint-sized farming town, Melrose served up a surprising array of curiosities and adventures.

One day, thanks to Jenny and Tony, Dean and I had some time to ourselves. In the morning, we headed across the rope bidge slung acroos the creek and up the steep flanks of Mt Remarkable National Park. Even though we didn’t make the peak, we took in some fabulous views over the town and east across the farming land. We discovered lots of animal activity, but apart from spotting some ring-necked parrots and sunbathing reptiles, the kangaroos and echidnas evaded us. Their scat and tracks were so fresh but sensibly, they managed to steer clear of us.

The vegetation on the south-facing slopes was completely different to that on the north-facing slopes. On the south we trudged past soggy lichen and dense eucalypt while on the north, we scrambled over dry, rocky paths past the grass trees and spiky acacia bushes with yellow pom pom flowers. In between the two, we picked our way across wide, treacherous scree slopes and soon realised why all the local creeks are filled with stones.

On our last day we took a drive east, out towards Murraytown and Wirrabara. The owner of the Blundstones, a recent crochet convert herself, told me of some yarn that could be procured out that way. She was right and I cheerfully handed over too much cash, marvelling at the texture and colour of some large hanks of hand-dyed, hand-spun wool. You never know, we might have to pass that way again, as the yarn producer also offers private spinning classes.

As it turns out, Wirrabara is also home to a couple of biodynamic fruit orchards that produce delectable sun-dried fruit. After buying some dried apple and fruit medleys in town, we headed off for a drive around the outskirts and arrived serendipitously at the farm gate of one of the orchards. We got out of the car, chatted to the farmer about his farm and patted his very friendly but enormous deer hound. Apparently, deer hounds do a great job of fending off the local roos, who have a habit of wrecking the farmer’s trees.

On our way out, near the sheds and by front gate, I was delighted to see the mounds of dung, hay bales and parrafin oil drums. It made such a nice change to seeing the usual array of Monsanto fertilisers and pesticides. It also helped allay the guilt of scoffing down yet another packet of sun-dried, organic fruit.

Going on an adventure with Nanna and Grumps....

Crossing the lovely rope bridge that spans the creek at the back of the caravan park.

Tony (Grumps) opts to walk the creek crossing rather than take the rope bridge.

Ruby tackles the creek.

Eating clover in a tree-house always tastes better...

Ivy can give or take the tree-house when it comes to her clover.

After a wet, cold walk around town, the kids settle down to a big session of drawing at the local cafe. There's nothing like a warm fire, a hot frothy milk and a pile of textas.

We were so grateful for the all the novel entertainment the Hot Rodders brought to town.

Ivy and I take a ride through town in a 1930s Ford courtesy of our gently-spoken Hot Rodder. Ivy chose this one to ride in because it had a foxtail hanging out the back.

All the kids were captivated by this hotted up ute and the allure of sitting in a crowd without seatbelts on.

Thanks to the Hot Rodders, our old Jayco didn't feel out of place. In fact it was nice to feel that small was cool again. Do you like this line up of retro caravans?

These vintage car enthiasts didn't stop at retro cars, utes and caravanettes, they also thought of the kids! Of course ours LOVED the rides in the this toy car, located 2 sites down from us.

Dean guides the kids around Melrose looking for kid-friendly spaces and curiosities.

.. and they don't have to look far. Hidden amongst the shrubs near some park toilets is a skate park. Oscar stares at the older boys, eyeing off their can of Pringles.

Not far from the skate park is a yard filled with exotic pets like this alpaca. His shearer was due to arrive any minute.

How about this for a hotel room?

Dean walking back towards town through Mt Remarkable National Park. View over east includes bright yellow patches of canola.

Another view higher up Mt Remarkable, again looking east over and beyond Melrose.

The walk up Mt Remarkable takes you through many scree slopes like this one, where the rocks are quite large and the hillsides are in a state of flux.

Taking a breather.

Trying to spot a nest up high.

Dean spotted this little fellow sunning himself on a rock near our path.

Grass trees were only found on the sunny northern slopes.

Not sure of the name of this pretty bush, but I wanted to remember it anyway.

And this one too. It looks a casuarina, but I'm not sure....

Dean and I relaxing at the cafe enjoying some kid-free time.

While Ruby and Tony balance on the see-saw....

and Jenny hangs out with the kids in the school cubbyhouse.

I don’t think you’ll find a quirker place than Coober Pedy.

It’s a dry, dusty place smack bang in the middle of nowhere, on the long haul between Alice Springs and Adelaide.

It’s curiously multicultural, other-wordly, industrious and ugly with its population of 3500 being employed in opal mining or tourism or both, as is often the case.

For us, it was a welcome mid-way point on the way south from Alice to the Flinders Ranges but as things turned out, it couldn’t have been more hospitable given our circumstances.

Not half an hour after arriving at Radeker’s Backpackers, did Oscar develop a fever and begin to deteriorate quickly. By dinner time he was in bed, nursing a hot, disoriented little body and from then on Dean and I spent the entire night chaperoning him up and down 2 flights of stairs to the bathroom tending a nasty bout of gastroenteritis. He was a stellar patient but all things told, it was a hell of a night.

Which is where a bat cave like Radeker’s comes in handy. Come daylight, as Oscar’s gastro ran its course, Dean and I then took it in turns to regain some lost sleep. For daytime naps you just can’t beat an underground lair where it is naturally quiet, dark and cool. So much so that Radeker’s should consider an alternative marketing campaign – “Coober Pedy – Australia’s best kept hangover secret.” If only that’d been our issue!

The illustrious Radeka's backpackers where we bunked underground for a few nights. Radeka's gaudy oversized signage is typical of most commercial buildings in Coober Pedy. But signage aside, deep underground bedrooms make the perfect napping space - quiet, cool and dark.

Like 90% of buildings in Coober Pedy, Radeka's has above ground chimmeys that poke up all over town

Ivy loved the underground batcave we slept in at Radeker's but possibly not as much as she liked leaping from one bunkbed to another.

The kids loved exploring this old rusty car shell - there's so many of these that they could've stayed here a whole month exploring them all.

With 60% of Coober Pedy's resident's hailing from abroad, there are many underground churches dug into the hills around town. We visited the Serbian Orthodox church where the kids got a quick lesson in church etiquette - Shhh! This is not a playground! No, you can't just take the candles - you're supposed to buy them and leave them here. No, you can't wander around and use them like torches!

Lighting candles and poking them in sandpits was a big thrill for the kids. Ivy couldn't get enough of snuffing hers out and then relighting it using another.

Back-lit windows in the Serbian church - I love how they incorporate some native flora into their traditional artwork.

When in Serbia, drink like the Serbians. Oscar discovered some telltale liquor refuse from the Church bar, an integral part of the Serbian church and community spirit!

The big winch dominates the landscape in Coober Pedy and provides a great view out over the town.

View over Coober Pedy from the Big Winch. Composed of so many dugout buildings and opal mine pits, it looks incredibly, it makes the town looks half-built and temporary

For a fortnight we called Alice Springs home.

And a few days ago, we were sad to say good-bye.

Alice is no paradise – it’s racial divide is very unsettling and its nine month summer is pretty exacting – but it’s got complexity, beauty and a rich, palpable Indigenous culture.

First impressions are indelible and I’ll never forget my first impressions of Alice as we drove in one afternoon a few weeks ago, trying to locate a suitable caravan park.

As you near town, the jagged, burnished MacDonnell ranges come into view, gracing both sides of the Stuart Highway, running east to west.

Then, all of a sudden, the mountain range splits, a gap appears and the highway runs through the middle, promptly delivering you into Alice Springs.

The Gap is just wide enough for a railway line, a two-lane road and a dry river bed.

No-one travels by train, all the white people use the road and only Aboriginals walk to town along the sandy riverbed.

It’s quite a powerful impression: beautiful, unexpected topography coupled with hard-hitting, racial demarcation.

Alice is clearly a town of extremes, especially when you’re a cossetted, girl from the lush, metropolitan cities back east.

Over the next fortnight we took our time getting to know the local sights in and around town, as well as taking it easy back at the campground.

We settled on a routine of having one sightseeing day to every campground day, in an attempt to normalise the kids’ lives and minimise the regular workload of tourism logistics.

It was also our first time in many months, that we managed to catch up with friends. When friends are scarce, it’s a sweet luxury to stop a while and just hang out.

One afternoon, as we sat down to dinner on our grassy allotment, a familiar smiling face shouted out the passenger window towards me. It was Tracey Nelson, an old work pal from Brisbane, who is travelling around the Top End with her family and another family. The two dusty 4WDs rolled past and set up camp just a few spaces down the same road. I had wondered if we might cross paths, as we knew of each others travel plans, but had assumed it wouldn’t work out. Happy days are when your friends roll into town!

Tracey also has a travel blog: http://traceyandcam.wordpress.com/

One day Dean treated me to a day off and I took off for a long drive out to see Hermannsburg, the town and ex-Lutheran mission some 150 km west of Alice, where Albert Namatjira was born.

It was a majestic drive out, as the road follows the MacDonell ranges all the way there, but it was a sobering drive home as I ruminated over the stories I’d been told over lunch (Royal Flying Doctors had evacuated a woman with critical injuries due to alcoholic violence the night before) and pondered the destructive, paternalistic effects of the Lutherans. Some of the original mission buildings still stand in the historic part of town and you can picture mission life quite vividly as you wander amongst the old white-washed church and assorted outbuildings.

Highlights of our time in Alice include our day trips out to see gaps and gorges in the Macs, as the locals call the MacDonnell Ranges. We clambered around Jessie Gap, Emily Gap, and took on the hot, heart-pounding ridge walk along Trephina Gorge. All our these walks were a big hit with the kids, as they tested their mettle on the smorgasboard of steep rocky climbs on offer.

There were many moments when I had to quell my anxiety and just let them scramble up higher and equally as many, when my anxiety overwhelmed me and I imagined them helter-skeltering down a steep rocky cliff, at which point I insisted on hand holding even if they were disinclined.

The kids find themselves a pint-sized ledge to seek refuge from the midday sun along the walk around Trephina Gorge.

Dwarfed by the cliffs at Trephina Gorge. Ruby makes us play her hotel game which curiously centres around all the food it has to offer!

Trephina Gorge: Oscar and I pause for a breath after scrambling up the steep walk up from the sandy river bed below.

The morning sun finally reaches the cliff tops at Jessie Gap.

Posing for a rare family photo in the shade at Emily Gap.

Walking between exhibits at the fabulous Alice Springs Desert Park, where you get a great hands-on appreciation for the flora and fauna of Central Australia

Frighteningly but thrillingly close to a wedge tailed eagle at The Desert Park. We have since driven past many and under a few as they savour the delights of central Australia's road kill.

The mighty Macs, on my way back from Hermannsburg.

Now for a view of the other side of the road. Aren't they splendid?

The chalky white walls of the Lutheran mission church at Hermansburg.

Back at the campground, the jumping pillow never fails to entertain.

Neither does the flying fox...

or scooting around all day in your favourite boots and PJs.

The 300 year old ghost gum out near Trephina Gorge is a stunner - no wonder Namatjira liked to feature them in his landscapes.

Ivy up close to Clifford Possum's mural at the Araluen Cultural Centre.

We’re living out of a campervan thesedays but back in May we started out towing a trailer and camping gear.

As some of you may know, I had misgivings about the tent camping, but Dean was very attached to the idea and there was no swaying him:)

But, things have a way of working themselves out though, don’t they?

In this case, brazen thieves solved our dilemma.

While Dean was packing up our house in Brisbane, he placed our tents on the curbside ready to put them in the car and three minutes later they were gone, along with my brand new guitar.

Bastards.

Our meagre bit of revenge is that every time they camp, they too can experience the musty scent of mutton bird poo, which still clings to the tent, care of our trip to Northwest Island.

Take that campers!

So with the tents out of the picture, Dean was open again to tent alternatives and we looked into buying a campervan on our way south.

Which is how we came to have Rainbow, as the kids like to call her.

We bought her second hand from a family in Sydney who wanted to upgrade now that their kids had gotten older.

Rainbow is the oldest campervan to be towed around Australia we reckon.

She’s a preloved 1980s Jayco with a rickety front door, chip-board interiors and minimal cupboard space.

But God bless her, she’s all that we need. She’s luxurious compared to a tent, she fits all of us easily while the kids are still small and because she was built 3 decades ago she’s petite and sips her fuel as opposed to other guzzlers on the road.

While on the farm, we tinkered with her a little, pulling out the stove and sink, opting to keep our outdoor kitchen and use the extra shelf for wardrobe space.

If you’re familiar with the campervan pictured in “Are we there yet?”, you’ll recognise our set up.

Ruby and I share one fold-out bed, Oscar and Ivy share the other, while Dean sleeps in first class, lying on top of the convertible bed/table.

The beds are surpisingly comfy and with curtains blocking light from the middle, we have no trouble separating the kids at bed time and getting them off to sleep.

For those of you interested in power, we don’t use much – our fridge sits outside and runs on solar and we plug in a few media devices into USB plugs either in the car when we are travelling or into the 12V battery adapter Dean rigged up. (That’s as technical as you’ll get with me!)

Anway enough of the talk, and here are some pictures of Rainbow and her funky interiors!