I am a (very) late convert to camping. I should explain that my lifelong antipathy to anything camping-related stems from being scarred by camping as a child. When I was around 5 my dad and mum were able, though the generosity of a friend, to borrow some camping gear an take the family on a couple of holidays to Shoal Bay on the NSW mid-North Coast. Back then it was a tiny settlement with only a handful of houses, one shop with the only concession to modernity being the nearby Nelsons Bay Country Club. The roads were unsealed and there were no camping grounds, caravan parks or council restrictions on where one could and couldn’t camp. So, with a large and unwieldy canvas tent, minimal camping knowledge and the avowed intention to give the family a good time, dad pitched camp on the other side of the rough bush track that parallelled the beach.
Noting that it rained both times we did this should immediately raise warning flag that the whole exercise was not going to be a success. There was no bathroom so we got a wash each night standing in a basin of (cold) water. There were no toilets so a hole dug in the sand in the bushes back from the road served that purpose (sort of). Dad was largely ignorant of the intricacies of erecting a tent having been given a quick tutorial by the tent’s owner, “It’s easy; you’ll figure it out.” Suffice it to say that he did (he was a clever bloke) but what he didn’t do, because he didn’t know that you HAD to, was dig a trench around the outside of the tent to drain away rainwater should it fall. It did but the water flowed straight through the tent as a consequence. We slept on ex-WWII camp stretchers, also canvas, and getting in and out of bed while trying not to drag the bedding in the mud and/or drag the mud INTO the bed was a losing battle.
As anyone who has used an old-skool canvas tent will know, the material IS water-resistant unless you touch it. If you rub your hand across the inside of the wet canvas it becomes porous and the water starts coming in. Thankfully the owner HAD remembered to remind dad that you needed to LOOSEN the rope guy ropes if they got wet otherwise they would stretch and put unnecessary strain on the canvas. What he HADN’T said was that care needed to be taken when selecting a place to camp. The ground needed to be flat (check), free of obstructions (check) and away from any ants nests or other bush creatures (NO check). So the tent was invaded by green ants from the time we set up (they have an exceedingly painful sting) AND, by sheer bad luck, dad erected the tent (BOTH years) in close proximity to a hunstman’s spiders nest. Seeking shelter from the incessant rain, the big mothers came inside, crawled up the inside walls of the tent onto the ceiling and then periodically dropped from the ceiling onto our beds or us.
It sounds horrendous and, to a five-year old city boy, it was. Thankfully there were some fine days that enabled us to play and swim at the unspoiled sandy beach, watch the commercial fishermen netting huge nets full of fish in the bay and bring them to shore and listen to the local big game fishing expert, a tiny lady called Mrs Duncan, tell us tales of how she regularly out-fished the big name fishermen (Jack Davey, Bob Dyer and many O/S visitors) each marlin season!
However, the experience was more than enough to put me off camping for life. Or so I thought. It wasn’t until my good mate, Dave Thompson, retired from teaching and bought himself a Winnebago, that the concept reared its head again. Each Winter, Dave and his partner, Sue, would head north to Mount Isa, work on West Leichardt Station for the season then head down into SW Western Australia for the orchid/wildflower season before heading home across the Nullabor just as Summer was about to begin. His Facebook posts, his fabulous photography and botanical paintings all conspired to raise my interest in seeing more of my wonderful country than I had already seen (and I had seen a fair bit).
And so it was that, just after a particularly generous tax cheque landed in our bank account that we, more on a whim than anything, bought the little T4 VW van that was to become the Minibago. Purchasing the van used up pretty much all that largesse so the equipping of it has necessarily been done on s strict budget and it is here (finally, after nearly 800 words), that I get to the point of my missive today.
On our trip last year we became bemused and horrified by the money that people were spending to get on the road. Amounts between $100-150k were the norm rather than the exception and, added to that, the complexity and weight of the rigs of which we saw dozens every day, were just astonishing. We’d done some preliminary trips (over a year’s worth, in fact) sussing out what we needed to have, do and take in order to do the job properly so it was somewhat of a shock to use to see that the majority of people out there on the road weren’t so much getting away from it all as taking it all with them. We knew that some of them were permanent “roadies” so it was fair to say that we cut them some slack. It would probably amaze you to know how many couples are travelling the outback of Australia who have NO home to which they can return. The family home and most possessions have been sold and the proceeds ploughed into a recreational setup of some sort or other.
But it got me thinking, how much stuff DO you need to take in order to do The Grand Tour? I decided after some contemplation that it is NOWHERE near as much as most of these nomads actually are carrying. Indeed, the chatter on social media about how local authorities are weighing and checking rigs with more frequency now AND fining the owners of those found to be overweight gives weight (pun intended) to my contention that the K.I.S.S, principle needs to be enacted if one decides to go on the road. Now while I defend to the death (!) the right of the individual to travel and camp pretty much as they wish, I also feel that those who are deliberately flouting the law and, thereby, placing themselves and MY life at risk since I share the road with them need to be reined in and made aware of their responsibilities.
How simple is OUR setup? Well, you can pretty much see it all in the photo at the head of the article. An empty van. A normal household double bed, jacked up a little so that the side rails clear the wheel arches at the rear. All camping/cooking and other accessories are stored in rolling plastic tubs under the bed. Clothes live in the overhead locker above the front seats and the underbed area also contains a porta-potty and a shower tent and solar shower bag. A 3mx3.5m roll-out awning (not shown in te picture) gives us shelter when we stop and provides a large and comfortable outdoor cooking/dining and relaxing area. The roof is equipped with a large solar panel and a set of deep cycle batteries provide us with 240v and 12v power when we are stopped. (not shown in the picture either). Curtains that attach and detach with velcro tabs provide privacy at night while sleeping and the windows in the sliding doors are equipped with fly screens. Two small 12v fans are fitted for hot summer nights.
And that’s pretty much it. So, while I have no beef with people who choose, for whatever reason, to take it all with them, for me it will be K.I.S.S.