About eight years ago I was in a minor dispute with the Tax Office and they requested bank statements for the previous five years.
Not a problem I tell the accountant, they’re in a box in the basement storeroom and I’ll send them to you by the end of the month.
It was not to be. A wild storm, a blocked drain, and the storeroom was flooded. By the time I realised what had happened, about three days later, the documents were a solid brick of sodden paper.
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For want of a nail the shoe was lost.
For want of a shoe the horse was lost.
For want of a horse the rider was lost.
For want of a rider the battle was lost.
For want of a battle the kingdom was lost.
And all for the want of a horseshoe nail.
At times I felt like I was living that nursery rhyme.
Take Madam Plush’s makeover, for example. It started with ripping out the existing carpet in the back lounge, a weary, stained excuse for a floorcovering.
As I lifted the first corner I noticed a big damp patch and had no clue as to its origin.
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In April 1861, the explorers Robert Burke and William Wills — sick, starving and desperate to survive — abandoned their surveying instruments and other ‘non-essential’ items in outback Queensland and continued south on their ill-fated journey.
Almost 150 years later, in a discovery being proclaimed as the holy grail for Burke and Wills enthusiasts, a Melbourne academic claims he has found some of the equipment buried in a creek bed hundreds of kilometres inland from Brisbane.
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There’s one month exactly to go for a rather special birthday, and that’s the day I plan to hit the road.
Today was a good one in terms of getting the bus ready for the big adventure … the solar panels are finally in place. Unfortunately, Easter gets in the way and the final wiring will only be done next week.
There are 420W of solar panels up there, and 150W are angled to get the early morning sun, an advantage of having the ‘penthouse’. Am almost tempted to add more to the penthouse pop-up … that should ensure a kickstart to any day.
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Most of the mechanicals on Madam Plush are now completed, including, new brakes, new steering balljoints, full service, Aussie-sized seatbelts, new drive belts [including alternator belts, air-conitioning belts, and power steering belts], and I’m just waiting on comparatively minor repairs to the awning and dunny.
No, I can’t tell you how much it has cost to date. I’m too scared to add it all up.
I was looking forward to a highway trip and a basic overnighter sometime this week as a shakeup cruise, but looking at the seven-day forecast I’ve had a sudden change of heart.
Can you blame me?
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The nomad’s mantra is ‘save weight’. Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat.
But sometimes a small sacrifice has to be made. Last week I spent half a day cruising the local camping shops for some outdoor furniture to fit under the awning.
In the end I simply gave up. Sure a lot of it is lightweight and compact when folded, but the look got to me. It was aluminum tubing, gaudy Hawaiian cushions, springs and bits that like biting your thumbs. The final straw happened while I was trying to fold up an outdoor lounge chair and squashed my index finger.
Bugger.
I have a new mantra. Comfort first. And as part of it I am taking my original Queen Elizabeth First Class deckchair with me. Made of teak and brass it is wonderfully comfortable [and I just saw one for sale on eBay for $US800 and there's still five days left in the auction].
And something else, it is not all that heavy.
It is getting a fresh coat of linseed oil this week, as is the folding wooden table that came everywhere with me while I travelled with Bluey [my red Kombi].
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I’m not even on the the road yet, but already the weather has me grounded.
Tasmania had a typical equinoctial storm early in the month. It was wild enough to wake me, inside my solid sandstone walled bedroom.
In the morning I looked out from the back deck and something about Plush’s roofline bothered me. When I inspected the penthouse later I found that the hatch’s top had been cracked wide open.
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While I’m still in the midst of getting rid of stuff, I have also, for about two years, been accumulating stuff specifically for going on the road.
It might sound contradictory, but the process has saved me money, and put a lot of my existing stuff into perspective.
I once again have my camping mindset. Packing for those trips I always sought out stuff that was lightweight, compact, absolutely essential, and where possible capable of playing two or more roles.
Some small examples — a sleeping bag storage bag that doubled as a pillow when stuffed with clothes; a walking pole that converted to a monopod with a twist; and the ultimate — my Swiss Army knife which I still use everyday.
On this new adventure I’ll be taking a few home comforts, including the amazing double act of my iPod and Pal radio and speaker system.
The Pal features the audio technology of the amazing Henry Kloss who invented the phenomenal AR [Acoustic Research] speakers. I still have very fond memories of my set of AR7 speakers and the crisp highs and solid bass notes.
I’ve now got the same sound quality emanating from a little box about a tenth the size, with a bonus AM/FM radio and a direct connection for my iPod. Fully-charged the battery gives about 22 hours of playtime.
Hooked up to my iPod I get another level of sound quality and the ability to pick and chose my music. The tiny iPod has 902 songs on it at the moment and is only about a third full.
Oh, and did I mention the amazing battery life?
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Stuff. It’s everywhere. Stuff. Stuff. Stuff.
I’m sick of bloody stuff. And I have to get rid of it all before I hit the road.
For starters there’s more than 2,000 books, some of them shown above, being sorted on the lounge floor. There’s more, many more, on bookshelves in the office, the bedroom and in the kitchen.
Downstairs there’s a room full of tools, garden equipment, and gear — for sea kayaks, camping, skiing, bicycling, rafting, scuba diving [including underwater cameras and lights] and bushwalking.
I’ll be sad to see a lot of it go, but at least I will have the memories of many momentous adventures across Australia, in Africa, India, Japan and Europe.
And, talking of memories, another room has six filing cabinets containing thousands of colour transparencies documenting those adventures.
They weigh a tonne, literally, and my attempts to find a useful future for them constantly gets thwarted. A State library was going to take them, but had its budget cut; a Sydney photo-agency reneged at the last minute ["We simply can't handle an influx of 90,000 photographs"] and I can’t afford to digitise them, which would be the perfect solution. Bugger.
For about six years now all my photography has been digital, and thousands of photographs are backed up on a couple of hard drives, each barely the size of a paperback thriller. I like that.
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Madam Plush had a fairly schizophrenic interior when I took delivery recently.
The old consists of fine Japanese carpentry used for an elegant lounge, a kitchen bench with a sink and lovely wood and brass door knobs, and a toilet. The wall and door surfaces look enamelled and everything is solid.
There are some touches that might be a bit overdone for a Western eye, but having travelled through Japan, I appreciate the gestures like tasseled curtains and ornate ceiling lights, they have a way of softening the clean lines of the woodwork.
And with typical Japanese ingenuity for small spaces they’ve tucked in a surprising amount of storage nooks.
Upstairs, in the ‘penthouse’, the walls and floor are carpeted. There’s a popup and a small skylight, and if it weren’t for my buggered knees it would make a fine bedroom.
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