Family Conference

Mum and Dad called a family conference. I was about 9 or 10. We had a decision to make. Dad was a surveyor and had the opportunity of going to Sweden for 2 weeks for a conference or they offered an alternative. We could spend the same amount of money and buy a caravan and travel across Australia for a few months. Well as kids growing up in Goulburn, never having had been on  a plane or ventured overseas, heard a foreign language or contemplated another culture voted unanimously for the Sweden trip. We were so excited at the prospect of a few weeks in a snow laden country, the Muppets chef being of course our main frame of reference. We would chant "Sweden, Sweden, Sweden".
Mum and Dad bought a brand new 16ft Millard caravan to be towed by dads trusted V8 Leyland P76. As there were 6 of us, the standard 16ft caravan had only beds for 5, so a special fold down bunk was made above the dining table. We all piled in and began what would be a fantastic journey of thousands of km from the east coast to the west in a straight line then the return trip in a much more wiggly line following every coast road we could find. Anyone unfamiliar with how big Australia really is needs to do that trip. I was always into maps and dad would show me on a map exactly how far we had driven that day and how far it was to go. Always so depressing at the same time invigorating. This country is BIG! We did all the tourist stuff, caught up with long lost family from Perth (an excuse for free accommodation upon reflection) and generally had a close family time for close to 3 months. I wish I had the forethought and finances to provide such a trip to my boys. What we saw and did and said and felt was all exceptional. I value those memories of our time as a family very highly.
Driving across the Nullabor Plain (the longest straight bit of road in Australia with one section 90 km without a deviation) was excruciatingly boring but also interesting. We left Ceduna on the eastern side and had 1200km to drive without seeing another town of any description. Road Houses and the odd shed was it. We broke the trip in half by camping off the side of the road and sleeping in the van still hooked up to the car. I remember Dad getting the rifle he'd borrowed from Uncle Bob and putting it under his bed. We were in a very remote place indeed. He had told me you had to care care to park pointing in the direction you were to travel as there were stories of people waking up and heading back to where they had come from because of being so disorientated by the lack of anything other than dirt and salt bush. We stopped at lots of places on the way.
The Great Australian Bite is just that. the bite taken off the southern coast. It's cliffs. Towering rock cliffs for hundreds of kilometres. We stopped in the car park and walked up the track towards the cliffs at one point. It was early morning and the thick morning mist with a blue hue beckoned me towards the edge. It was mesmerising seeing the faint white of the breakers below but I felt like I could walk out on this stuff. Mum grabbed me just before I tried. I think that's the first time I ever was conscious of entering an altered state.
The final day of the Nullabor (it means treeless plain btw) was rain rain and more rain. Who ever knew it pisses down in the desert! We spent our time in Western Australia travelling right round the coast from Perth and Albany, climbed the biggest tree in the Southern Hemisphere and weeks later was on the return trip across the Nullabor. I was bummed because I hadn't had good chance to see a dry desert. That would be remedied on the trip home I was assured by dad. One thing happens when you put rain on the Nullabor Plain. It happens very rarely but when it does rain, it explodes with wild flowers. The way back was just like driving through the wizard of Oz fields, acres and acres of flowers either side of the road for hundreds of kilometres. I must say, it was better than the dirt I was expecting.
We got home after such a mammoth trip and immediately the caravan went to its permanent on-site location at Broulee on the south coast of NSW but that's another story.
I'm going to call my dad and thank him for using his power of veto in the family conference. I could never understand the chef in any case.