23 to 25 Mar 2011
Hadspen to Ross to Bicheno to Freycinet National Park
A few days ago I wrote about the rain, wishing the weather would turn for the better. It didn’t. “Yup, there’s been five inches of rain in the past 36 hours.” “I reckon it’s the worst flooding in 40 years.” “It isn’t usually like this, really.” All statements we’ve heard from the locals over the past three days. You can only imagine how well that’s gone over in our van. It turns out the non-stick spray can lid has a small hole in it, resulting in some minor flooding on our upper deck. The paper-towels-shoved-in-the-slider-door-seal trick hasn’t been bulletproof either. (That, or Gina has become a bed-wetter, by the looks of the puddle each morning festooning the cushion on her side of the sleeping quarters.) And if you’re fed up with it all and ‘accidentally’ shut the front door too hard, a spattering of rain will greet whoever’s left behind sitting beneath the ceiling vent in the rear.
These are all minor issues, however, compared with the fact that Gina hasn’t been able to spend enough time outside of the van in what feels to be a very, very, very long time. Gina needs to move, all body parts at once, typically, and pacing back and forth in an 18 foot long van like a tiger in a cage, well, that’s not healthy for Gina. Not healthy for anyone, really.
Fortunately, there have been a few mercy moments when we haven’t been forced back inside our tin can on wheels to escape the drowning rains.
There was the drive-in bottle shop in Longford, where we stopped to stock up on ways to endure the dismal weather (note that we are parked in the “Browse” lane as opposed to “Express”, proof that we haven’t yet reach the tipping point from social drinkers to full-time boozers).
There were the two shower-free hours we spent wandering through and around the super cute heritage village of Ross, thoroughly enjoying its Old World vibe.
Then yesterday, there was the fishing village of Bicheno with its hard-working harbour, enjoyed during a partly sunny afternoon.
And, after another night of relentless rain and wind and the drip-drip-drip of Charlie’s tired old rubber seals, we arrived today to partly sunny skies in Freycinet National Park, a park that just yesterday was cut off from the rest of Tasmania by flooded roadways. The wind is still howling up a storm here but at least we can throw the slickers back in the closet and stop talking about how we’d throw on our Wellies if only we owned a pair.
