Kununurra
Trip Start
Nov 28, 2004
1
9
57
Trip End
Jun 11, 2005
Kununurra, Western Australia, Australia
Friday, December 10, 2004
Once at Kununurra, I aim for the Kimberleyland Caravan Park and drive through the grounds to reach an unpowered camping pitch ( no power sockets required ) I find the square of dirt which has my number on it and back the car in to the allocated slot, ever watchful. Not wanting to be under any large overhanging tree branches. Tropical storms bring lightening and lightening nearly always strikes trees. I don't fancy the prospect of becoming the meat in a Percy sandwich. I stride directly to the pool and plonk myself into it. How refreshing is that ! I soon get chatting to Paul and Shelley and their teenage kid, Craig. We agree to meet for a Barbie. Once I've showered up, I hop into Percy again and fill the caravan park with clouds of thick blue smoke as I crawl shamefully past the neat reception area and pool. It takes no time to find a branch of Coles the supermarket where I purchase beer and some thick beef sausages.
Campsite etiquette is such that all campers converge at the communal grill to share their mealtimes, though not necessarily their actual food. The grills come with cleaning implements and its only fair and proper to scrape off one's charred crusts and debris after cooking. Mostly, the grills are gas powered and only rarely must one enter coins to pay for a pre-measured amount of cooking time. Covered eating areas and washing up facilities are kept clean and orderly by the site management. Bins are marked according to their purpose and recycling is encouraged. No doubt there is a code of practice and an industry standard to be maintained. I am beginning to sense that Australia has become a little over burdened by managing and proceduralising everything. It notices to me especially, since I have come here from a lengthy stay in Asia, where chaos and disorder is the general preference instead.
Once we have all eaten our meals and cleaned up, I begin a typical evening sat in my usual place which is behind the steering wheel ( my armchair ) clutching an ice cold VB. Perhaps some music on the radio. Paul and Shelley have a large family sized campervan and beckon me over. So I grab some fresh cans out of the esky and oblige. We drink together as the wind begins to pick up into a minor gale. Trees begin to bend in the wind and less permanent fixtures start to fly around. People previously huddled under canvas tents are suddenly looking up at only the stars, their belongings strewn around the site. Paul gives me that knowing grin, adding " good job they weren't wanking or having it off, eh ". We fold up our chairs and tables and retract the roller-awning attached the campervan and take our seats inside. Through the windows it looks to me like a mini-hurricane is now tearing its way through Kimberleyland Caravan Park.
Paul breaks out his stash of ' hydro ' and homebrew Jack Daniels. The home brewed bourbon is almost like the real thing and seeing that they travel with entire box loads of it, I purchase a bottle. I suppose they are a kind of trailer family, brewing their own hooch and travelling from place to place. Craig, their teenage son is delegated the task of rolling joints for this evenings session. And it's a good one. The gale dies off and I have ' one for the road ' while in my armchair behind the wheel. Then clamber into bed very pleased to be inside a solid car made of steel rather than in a flimsy tent.
Next ; Hell's Crack
