So, there we were. We needed a plan to extricate ourselves from this one way track to doom. Clearly, if we were to have any chance of using that small clearing to our advantage, there was no room for error. To make the van turn, the Jeep would have to go bush. First task was to clear the undergrowth and saplings from the driver side of the road. No point in leaving a lasting memory on the duco to add to the deep remorse we were already feeling.
So with Tamika as my eyes, I started to slowly reverse into the bush to start the swing. So far, so Outback Truckers. The rear of the van was now into the clearing but the Jeep was trying to get back onto the track with difficulty. I couldn’t be gentle with the situation. And in the moment of crisis, who appears out of the metaphorical scrub but Russell, with the only words I could hear in that instant:
” Time to hit the road!“
Now, Tamika refuses to tell me what exactly happened in those three seconds between the Jeep and the Jayco. I was in a zen like trance, one with the machine. Her life, and our future, was flashing before her eyes. All I knew was any damage would not be covered by the manufacturers warranty. But, when everything stopped, the Jeep was 90 degrees to the track and , if the van was still connected, it would surely follow us out. We had the Arc of the Caravanent. There were a few seconds of high-fives and kisses. We had graduated from newbies to caravaneers. But it didn’t take long to sober up, realizing how perilous our situation could have been. It was very quiet in the Jeep on the slow drive back to the main road. We promised we would tell no-one about what had happened, but as you can see, that didn’t last.
So we went back to that perfectly good free camp site in the late afternoon and set up. I think we toasted our luck more than once that night round a blazing fire.
With the van unhitched, the next day brought renewed optimism about our prospects for gold and wood. The nights were cool and we needed to keep the home fire burning. We had lost faith in Google and were using a good old paper map to see whether or not this free camp site actually existed. We came in from the opposite direction and arrived at a clearing of sorts, ideal for off road 4WD camping but not for the likes of us. We did however find plenty of burnable and a starting point for our prospecting after lunch.
Now, one thing became clear to us very quickly. Despite the goldfields covering thousands of square kilometres, finding some untouched patch of ground was not going to be easy. Everywhere where water was flowing, our had flowed, or might have flowed had been well and truly gouged 100 years ago. Creek beds had been dug out to a depth of up to 10 metres. Sink holes hidden by undergrowth made for cautious exploration. We took a punt on some untouched ground and put the detector to work. Long story short, it was fun, it was exciting, it was fruitless. We DID find small fragment of metal and a bottle cap but still, everything worked as it should, except for the gold bit.
The next day we drove down to Dayelsford to see what all the hype was about. I reckon there was a fair bit of hype. Sure, the cafes looked very trendy and the arty shops looked…arty. It’s pretty much a one street town and I couldn’t shake the impression that they were like hookers on Darlinghurst Road touting Melbournians to spend there hard earned cash. Having said that, I would go there just to spend a good hour or more at The Mill Markets. It is just amazing how much stuff and how much variety is on display and for sale. There’d be no excuse for leaving empty handed.
Back at camp armed with some pastries (yes, well, they did look delicious), we made friends with another couple a bit further along and shared some wine and a blazing tree stump fire. It was only when I noticed smoke coming from their van, that the smooching effects of the alcohol vanished in a second. We ran to the van to see a fry pan well alight. Thankfully it was sorted with the minimum of heroics and a little smoke damage was the only legacy .
The next morning we got an urgent call. Tamika’s daughter Jazz was in hospital. We quickly packed up and headed back to Melbourne. We weren’t to know at the time, but we were about to experience what I came to call the “Terrible Awful”.