Aussie Antics: Brisbane to Adelaide - 7th February to 7th April

Arriving in Australia, should have felt like the definitive accomplishment on our overland journey but surprisingly it felt like a bit of an anti-climax. Col and I were excited to be in Australia but felt somewhat disorientated and dishevelled having touched down at Brisbane airport in the wee hours of one February morning. During the earlier parts of our journey, we had eagerly tracked our daily movements on the nearest world map to hand and had been elated to see our progress particularly when we drove into downtown Bangkok, the first place on our journey we had previously flown to from London. Now that we had shipped Miranda from Malaysia to Brisbane and flown there from Singapore via Bali, we felt that we had somehow cheated the system a bit and arrived in Australia at the start of a new journey, rather than at the end of our existing one. It felt like we had gotten plastered on Singapore Slings, passed out on a jetty, from where we had been kidnapped by pirates, who dumped us on an unrecognisable island on the other side of the world (when they realised they wouldn’t get much for our ransom). Only Miranda by our side reminded us of what we were doing in Oz. A few things heightened this bewilderment.

Firstly, having travelled slowly overland from the UK to Singapore, had given us the unique opportunity to see cultures, landscapes and faces mingle and gradually change over time. However, after a five hour flight from Bali to Brisbane, the changes seemed so abrupt and we suddenly found ourselves in a land with a distinctly sub-tropical chill in the air, where Hungry Jacks outlets and moody taxi drivers thrived, and which appeared to be dominated by a loud and burly, wife-beater-and-thong sporting Anglo-Saxon population - yep I was home! Secondly, the general Australian public with the odd exception were rather blasé about Col’s hand controls and Miranda’s alien number plate. This contrasted greatly with other countries in Asia, where we had hoped to blend in and keep a low profile, but had inadvertently adopted celebrity-like status overnight, standing out like a couple of sore thumbs, dressed in hot pink nail polish. Finally, visiting friends and family, who were still working hard, paying their bills and frequenting familiar places I had visited as a child; brought us back down to reality a bit. It was absolutely fantastic to be back home again and to see them all and introduce them to Col; and although our social calendar looked the healthiest it had done since Laos, it did make us feel like we were on a leisurely pensioner’s bus tour rather than an overland expedition of epic proportions. Consequently we had to keep pinching ourselves, to remember what we had achieved in the last year.

It didn’t take long though for the bewilderment to pass and we really began to enjoy and appreciate Part 2, the Australian leg, or modest other half, of our Drivingchrissyhome Odyssey. Although the roads were distinctly smoother and the campsites with running water and flushable toilets seemed extravagantly 5 star, we still clocked up our fair share of surprises on the road.

Queensland: Quarantine


Luckily thanks to great timing, we managed to avoid the natural disasters which had put Queensland onto the world map in recent times. Even Miranda, bound up in a 20 foot container, did well to avoid the wrath of Cyclone Yasi on her maiden voyage at sea to Bris-vegas (as Brisbane, with its’ casinos, was affectionately referred to by the locals). Clearing Miranda from customs was a tricky and time-consuming process, especially since we had opted to do it alone without the help of a clearing agent. The process was sped up thanks to Mark, a fellow campervan-ner and part-time courier– who we had befriended earlier on the trip in a Swiss camping site, through his great girlfriend Shari. We had arranged for important documents to be sent to Mark and Shari’s house in Bris-vegas and Mark with his “too easy” attitude, offered to promptly deliver them to us near our hotel in the dodgy, red-light district main drag called ‘the Valley’ (the nickname for Brisbane’s infamous ‘Fortitude Valley’). This meant we could get the ball rolling ASAP. Clearing Miranda was also a breeze thanks to an uncharacteristically super-friendly, down-to-earth quarantine agent, who himself – a retired traveller – was more keen to hear our stories from the road, then to grill us too much about the nature of our potentially insect-harbouring wooden articles; illegal mosquito zapping tennis racket; and half-opened packet of Laos coffee (which I had deservingly marked on the vehicle inventory as the ‘best coffee in the world’ in the hope of persuading tough customs officials to let us keep it).

Besides clearing Miranda and registering her as a roadworthy vehicle, we also spent some time: exploring laidback Bris-vegas – the botanic gardens, Chinatown; and the city; getting stuck into Subway sarnies; being spoilt by Mark and Shari (who shouted us a delicious and much appreciated Thai meal); and killing bed-bugs in our hotel room.

Yep, paradoxically although we had to obtain a fumigation certificate in order to show customs that we hadn’t imported any exotic creepy crawlies into the country, it was the Australian home-grown variety which we hadn’t accounted for and hit us the hardest. So we spent a week itching bites; researching the life-cycle and habitat of the dreaded beasts; shopping for natural and industrial strength insecticide products; and washing, steam cleaning and quarantining our personal effects. This was all to ensure that the ‘little bastards’ didn’t hitch a ride with us out of town. Although the nonchalant hotel manager didn’t even raise an eyebrow in response to the news that her hotel was rife with the ‘little buggers’, through this saga we were fortunate to meet Gary, an old boy with leathered skin, Japanese riding boots (as he called his flip-flops/thongs) and a cheeky chuckle. Gary who was the resident hotel maintenance guy, was born and bred in Brissie, hated modernisation and the idiot box (TV) and was a simple, salt of the earth type. It was as though Gary’s only mission in life was to make his guests feel as welcome as possible. He was always up for a chat and joke and he helped us so much with the cleaning, washing and fumigation of the ‘little blighters’ that having encountered bed bugs almost seemed worth it, just to get to meet him.

NSW and ACT: Cappuccinos and Christenings
With a Greek-sized extended family of bed bugs left behind, we were on a bit of a mission to head south. Clearing the vehicle had taken us longer than anticipated and so we had just over a week to leg it down to Sydney, with a few stops planned en-route, in order to make a christening on time. It was the first time since our Chinese permit deadlines when we had solid plans on this trip and it felt a bit weird pencilling in social engagements into our diaries. First on the cards was a stopover at beautiful Byron Bay.

Unfortunately Col’s plans to sleep on the same beach he had camped in front of 10 years earlier, were thwarted by the camping ground’s leisurely office hours and a solid boom gate. We managed to find another pretty camping spot near a river, where cicadas, frogs, lizards and galahs roamed but the sound of cicadas was regularly intruded upon by loud Aussie teens, who seemed to have just discovered the wonders of beer on their camping trip. After a quick stop at Byron’s drawcard white sandy beach, with crashing blue waves, we meandered our way along as many coastal scenic drives as possible, as we headed south to the Central Coast (just north of Sydney), via Port Macquarie.

It felt absolutely fantastic being at home again, the overpowering smells of the Australian wilderness wafted into our car, the sky was a gorgeous blue and at some points the horizons seemed enormous again. It was also great to be back in Miranda, cooking and sleeping in the van; and eating breakfasts on the back of the lift. The only difficulties to contend with were the beating sun (although it was still a comfortable 10-15 degrees cooler than the Karakum desert); and the Aussie truck drivers, who impatiently screeched up behind Col’s ass on the non-dual carriageway portions of the highway as though their days on earth were numbered.


As we crawled into the Central Coast’s town of Umina (home to Tina, Richard and cute cocker-spaniel Kruger’s abode) so began the NSW/ACT social leg of our trip, which took us into the Blue Mountains, all over Sydney, down past picturesque Gerroa and onto the Nation’s capital via Bateman’s Bay and pie-famous Braidwood. Some of the Highlights included:

- experiencing our first Aussie BBQ at Tina and Richards place, complete with tasty Boerewors which were falsely marketed by Aussie Woolworth’s supermarkets as the ‘British Sausage’ much to Richard’s (who is South African) dismay.

- meeting the life-loving, multi-talented, enigmatic, entertaining and eccentric Colin Javens 2. Col’s 80 year old namesake/long distant relative, who drunk whisky with us until 4am (singing Kenny Rogers duets with Col) and showered us in gifts and generosity.

- hanging out at casa del Lay where Col and Grae bonded over birdlife; while the ladies danced it up with Fletcher to his toy lion’s theme tune;.
- going to Ava Baker’s christening on the premise that both the godfather (who turned up in shorts) and I (sporting my best campervan attire) were selected to be Ava’s godparents because we both lived ‘unconventional’ and ‘free spirit’ lives. This made our overland trip seem even more fitting and special.
- after twenty countries, 25,000km and some rough roads, having the convenience of acquiring our first flat tyre on the motorway junction to Gerroa - with the added luxury of being able to call the NRMA to fit the new one for free!
- enjoying the simple things in life: talking with family and friends, laughing lots over coffees and wines – although thanks to my fertile girlfriends, poor Col was subjected to enough girly talk and meeting-new-baby sessions to last a lifetime.






- introducing Col to the ‘seafood basket’ (a culinary must) atop of freshwater headland, with the pacific ocean appearing to stretch out in all directions around us.
- rolling down the soft grass on top of Parliament House in Canberra - the best kept and most bindi-free lawn in Australia!


Victoria: Hit and Run

The Victorian leg of our trip got off to a wobbly start – after a blow out we had decided to buy two new tyres (thanks to Danny’s help), which we put on the back wheels. This had meant the more buckled back wheel rims were now at the front and as a result the whole front of the car shook more than the Pacific Ring of Fire. Consequently Col had to drive even more slowly and cautiously.

On this same day the heavens decided to open up as we crawled into Yackandandah, where we camped in a muddy campsite which appeared to be overrun by hairy spiders and grey nomads (the nickname coined for the retiree campervanners doing laps around Oz). Yackandandah was home to Dawn and Angus, friends of Col, who he had stayed with 11 years earlier, on his maiden voyage around Australia) and memories came flooding back along the drive to their farm.



After a quick overnighter in a Beechworth campsite where we spotted our first wild Koala lazily perched on a gum tree, we clocked up the miles in order to get to East Bentleigh, (a suburb of Melbourne) by Friday evening rush hour. Here we were entertained by an energetic couple of toddlers Ruby and Marek, while their parents Mark and Vanessa, cooked us up a delicious BBQ with rare delicacies such as kangaroo penises. The following day they took us sightseeing which included a visit to the Melbourne Cricket Ground, War Memorial and Grand Prix race track. It was here that Col proudly clocked up the fastest lap for someone with hand controls, driving a blue panel van.


From Mark and Vanessa’s we made our way north to Claire and Jezz’s place where for the most part we chilled out drinking wines, eating pizzas and walking their dog down to the park; as well as making some time to catch up with my relatives, some of the youngest who put on an entertaining talent show for us. However, it was at Jezz’s birthday bash, when all the action kicked off. Col’s action junkie side came to the fore en-route to the pub, where the birthday celebrations were to be held. We had opted to take the car and follow Claire and Jezz in theirs, as it was starting to bucket it down. This seemed like the safest, most sensible option, but in the space of 5 minutes, on three occasions, our lives nearly changed dramatically. The first time was when we came inches to being taken out by a tram, as we turned right off the main road (apparently they had right of way); the second time was 500 metres later, when a daredevil Chinese kid, decided to suddenly propel his bike in front of Miranda as we drove along the main road, forcing Col to emergency brake. The third time was minutes later in the car park, when a reversing P-plater decided to run Col over despite Claire and Jezz’s yelling at the top of their lungs for her to STOP!! The visually challenged teen, with spectacles a prescription short, claimed that she hadn’t seen Col in the back of her mirrors. Luckily thanks to Col’s anti-tippers, which he used to propel himself into a semi-stationary-wheelie, he escaped from the ordeal with no more than a bruised knee. Feeling a bit like Indianna Jones, at least with the hat-trick complete, Col was able to enjoy the rest of the evening, incident free.




South Australia: Losing Control

We made our way into South Australia by taking the Scenic Route via Victoria’s beautiful Great Ocean Road. We were incredibly lucky, that the weather fined up at all the right places and were lucky to spot emu, eagles and kangaroos enroute. The twelve apostles at sunset (even though there are only 8 left) looked magical and Col pointed out the cliff, he had pretended to hang off and scare tourists from, eleven years earlier. It’s no wonder the fences at that point, appeared to have been reinforced heavily.





From Mt Gambier we made our way to Mum and Dad’s via Penola (home to Australia’s first and only saint; and incidentally Mum's home town); pretty beachside Robe; and the Coorong (a vast ecosystem of freshwater lakes, wetlands, ocean beaches and lagoons) where we spotted dozens of pelicans.



Arriving at Mum and Dad’s was absolutely brilliant. We had imagined it for months, but crawling into a familiar driveway and seeing their faces, after all the crazy and fantastic places we had been, seemed very surreal. Mum and Dad made us feel so welcome and spoilt us with delicious food and wine and it was just so great spending quality time with them. Col is now a newly qualified wine-connoisseur.


Our time in McLaren Vale was largely social – on the agenda included a trip to visit my cousin’s new pub; a school talk at our friend’s school; a BBQ with family and some of mum and dad’s friends and a much anticipated, extra special visit from Trina (Honey 1), Randall (Honey 2) and Ava (Honey 3), who made the effort to fly there from Sydney one weekend.





The tranquillity didn’t last. As has been the theme on this trip, our time in McLaren Vale was also eventful, or at least it was, mechanically speaking. We had arranged to get Miranda serviced, to ensure that she was in tip top condition before the long drive across the Nullabor plain. The service included and oil and filter change, a timing belt change, a tyre switch (to sort out the wobble) and the insertion of a new fuse, which had blown and was the reason Col wasn’t able to use his electric gear selector. Malcolm asked Col to rev the accelerator just after installing the new timing belt and just as Col applied the gas, we were all alarmed to see the accelerator rev to max, completely on it’s own as though the Poltergeist had taken control of the van. Luckily the van was in park and didn’t speed off, but the experience unnerved us as we sat there contemplating what we should do.
Col had never fully trusted his electrically operated hand controls and after the heat in Central Asia and the fuse change, apparently it was possible that some of the electrics had fried or short circuited. Because the wiring system best resembled a bowl of leftover spaghetti, he doubted that any auto-electrician would know how (let alone be game to even try) and untangle the mess and fix the electrical problem.

This left us with three options 1. Shipping the car from Adelaide to the UK and ending the trip there and then; 2. Switching the hand controls off, taking charge of the van and driving Col all the way to Perth myself; or 3.Trying to find (by some miracle) someone to install a new mechanically operated accelerator/brake hand control. Neither of the first two options were appealing namely because we would either miss out entirely on the much anticipated Western Australian leg of the trip; or we probably wouldn’t arrive until Christmas, if I was the one behind the wheel!

Luckily things seemed to happen for a reason again and we got our miracle. After a few phonecalls, Malcolm managed to track down the number for a bloke who from his vague memory had once fitted an emergency brake hand control for a Driving Instructor. With a little bit of luck, we were able to arrange an appointment with Craig the Hand Control guru to inspect Miranda. All I had to do was to drive it to the garage, which unfortunately was over an hour and a half’s drive away. I was quite nervous. Firstly, we had no 3rd party property/vehicle insurance; and secondly although I could use the foot accelerator and brake I would have to get used to Col’s horizontal steering hand control. In the end I knew we had no choice and so I went for my first drivers test and then my second. Col was a great driving instructor and motivator. I soon got used to the steering – it was like mixing a cake batter anticlockwise and then clockwise; but the part I found most difficult was on the long straight stretches. Even though the steering was quite straight forward, the hand control was set slightly off the centre when the wheels were pointing straight. And so it was those small adjustments which I had to try and get used to: ‘up and down’ rather than left and right’’, to keep the car from careering into the wrong lane on any straights. After one close call and a couple of birdies to people driving up my arse, I decided to invent a tune to keep me concentrated and so for the entire long drive to the mechanics Col's audio entertainment consisted of the hit song “left is up, right is down”.

Fortunately we made it to the mechanics and this experience gave me an enormous appreciation of the difficulties Col had to face in driving with hand controls. I had the easy job of cheating with the assistance of foot pedals, but I could only liken driving with hand controls to that mind game of trying to tap your head with your right head, whilst rubbing your stomach with your left hand simultaneously. I also had an aching shoulder and yet again it made me realise that the posture Col had to adopt and maintain for days on end, was not the comfiest position. It made me realise and appreciate even more so, what Col had achieved in driving all the way to Australia.

Craig was able to fit a new, specially designed mechanical accelerator/brake hand control for Col and it is actually superior to his old electrical one as it sits in a more reachable and comfortable position. Now with the new hand controls fitted, we aim to be back on the road in no time and begin our long and final driving stretch across the desolate and haunting Nullabor Plain.