Four days no shower. Bodhi looks like he’s being raised by wolves. He howls, his face is full of sand and mud and his hands are filled with rocks, ready to throw. He crawls so fast, head down on a mission to the nearest mess. Each place seems to get more beautiful. Hervey Bay, 25 km of sprawling still ocean, perfect for family play. The sunsets are dramatic, romantic like Mills and Boons. I shared it with my son on Mother’s Day while me and Jake fought over the length of a Jetty. There’s something about being encased in metal for long periods of time that makes us all scream. That first hot shower scalded the muck and grime from our skin, peeled back the layers, stole those silly fights.
One night we stayed at a free camp spot on the side of the highway.
Confusion Says: “Be weary of those who travel alone in station wagons, I don’t know why they just seem weird.”
This young guy next to us in a station wagon ate corn from a can in his boxer shorts while a band of merry men played guitars around a fire. There’s always the oldies wherever you go, grey nomads next 25,000km. They take up more of the road than Lindsay Fox.
Coming into Agnes Waters the weather had been pretty dismal. It would have been stunning in the full light of day, ours was a more subtle view, more greys and browns, still gorgeous, calming and isolated. We headed to a camp spot just out of town, right on the beach for $6 pp pn. Bargain! We drove down a dirt track to get there and the theme song to Deliverance stars playing in my head. Run down cars and dirty old tarps make the place feel like a squat. Single middle aged men with thinning hair stare us down as we drive around the looking for a spot to pull up,far enough away from crazy corner where the long term residents have made “home”. One of the men stood staring at his car engine, muttering, swaying from side to side. It’s cheap, it’s a short cliff ride down to a deserted beach so we’ll take he chance. Jake sleeps with a machete under the bed for those “just in case” axe murder emergencies.
After surviving the night mingling with madness we headed down to a gorgeous beach called Seventeen Seventy, because of some dude called Cook holidaying there in the 1770’s. Bodhi was having his morning nap in the carpark, Jacob was out on the bay catching soldier crabs in his coffee cup and I was thinking, this is the life.