John Perrier - Campervan Kama Sutra

Title and Copyright notice

Campervan Kama Sutra

Outback Australia with a camper trailer,three kids and a dog.*

By John Perrier

Published by JP Publishing Australia

Copyright 2015 John Perrier

ISBN 978-0-9875694-6-2

Smashwords Edition

Travel/Comedy/Humour/Adventure

Also available as a paperback

ISBN 978-0-9875694-5-5

Please see the end of the book for

* P.S. There was no dog

Table ofContents

Prologue

I turned the ignition key.

Nothing.

I turned it again, a little more desperatelythis time. Again, nothing. Not even a tiny click. The engine wasdead.

Outside of the Jackaroo, the river waslapping at the wheel arches, trickling muddy water in through thedoor cracks. The rear vision mirror reflected the mortified facesof my three children. In the passenger seat, my wifes tautexpression was even more concerning.

It will be fine, everybody, I lied. Itsprobably just water shorting out the battery. Then I rolled up myshorts in a futile attempt to keep them dry, waded through thewaist-deep water to the boot, and rummaged through a pile of soggycamping gear for the tow rope - the only piece of equipment thatcould help us now.

Then I led my family to the rivers edgeto wait. We hadnt seen another car all morning. This could take awhile.

*

When I had the notion to take my family ona tour around outback Australia in a camper-trailer, it hadseemed like a dandyidea. I shopped the concept around to family and friends to gaugetheir opinion of such an undertaking, and was met by anoverwhelmingly positive response.

Youll have a great time. Thekids will learn more on a trip like that than theyd learn atschool. What an opportunity !

These types of optimisticsentiments came fromeveryone except one person: my wife Kath. She had a few (dozen)misgivings, among which was: What if the car breaks down, andwere stuck in the middle of nowhere, and nobody is around torescue us?

When she had raised this issue, I had donewhat any experienced husband does when faced with concerns of sucha clearly hypothetical nature. I ignored it.

For the last two months of our trip my policy of targetedignorance had served me well. I assumed that Kath had forgottenever raising such doubts. But I could tell by her stony silence aswe sat by that riverbank - staring at our partially submerged car,waiting and hoping that help would eventually arrive - thatunfortunately, she hadnt.

Even worse, it was herbirthda y.

Ouch.

Earlier that year

The flightfrom Brisbane to Perth took nearly six hours. Sitting for that longon a seat designed for one buttock gives you ample time to reflecton how damn big this country is. As we flew 10 kilometres above themassive heart of Australia, I was humbled by the thought that thisgreat land was ours to discover: the wonderful coastline, ruggedcentre, fascinating history and unique flora and fauna. So uponlanding, to best prepare the kids for the enlightening three-monthjourney that lay ahead of them, Kath and I took them for theirfirst educational outing: The Lucky Shag Pub.

Well come back to The LuckyShag shortly. But first, before we evenstep off that plane, you should know at least something about thepeople youre joining on this three month journey. After all, ifyoure going to accompany us from Perth to Darwin, and then souththrough the red centre, then youd best get to know your travelcompanions.

Asyou may have extrapolated from the little car incident in thePrologue, my wife Kath was not thrilled with the idea of livingcar-and-tent fashion for a quarter of a year. Her preferred modus operandi for agood vacation would be a couple of weeks in a seven-star hotel (sixstar hotels are sooo 1990s), during which wed dine thrice daily inexpensive restaurants and take high tea in our breaks. This holidaywould also include numerous poolside cocktail bars at which theyserved drinks other than beer or bourbon. No, gentlemen, I dontget it either.

Ihave never actually checked with Kath, but her fantasy holidaywould, er, probably not include me. No, ladies, I dont get thatone either.

Sowhen I first proffered the notion that we take our kids on athree-month tour of hot, dusty outback Australia in a campertrailer, it would be fair to say that she did not immediately leapat the opportunity. Following the ensuing discussions, in which sherealised that her objections to our grand adventure were simplybeing ignored (including the one about the car breaking down in themiddle of nowhere), we finally agreed, by a voting margin ofone-all, that we would undertake an epic family voyage west of theblack stump.

Timing was important. Within two years, our eldest daughterCaitlin would graduate to high school. Caitlin is not only cute butalso very bright, but perhaps not quite bright enough to catch upon three months of lost work in the rough-and-tumble of seniorschool. Far easier to miss the time in primary school; the tripwould more than compensate for 60 missed show-and-tells.

Ourmiddle son, Lachie, was in a similar situation. He, too, would soonbe graduating to a senior school, albeit into grade five. He simplycould not afford the time off lest someone pinch his spot on thefooty team.

Ouryoungest offspring, Jacob, was now big enough and sufficientlyrobust at seven years old to cope with life on the road, includingbeing dragged on arduous bushwalks and being made to swim acrossshark-infested bays by his gung-ho father.

Wetherefore had a narrow window of opportunity that lay between Jacobbeing too young, and the other kids being too advanced in theirschooling and sporting objectives. There wasnt a nanosecond towaste.

Sobegan the preparation and planning. Naturally, being a bloke, thiswas almost as much fun for me as the trip itself. I scoured guidebooks and maps, and spoke to anyone who had so much as flown overnorth-western Australia. Countless hours were spent on the internetvisiting exotic travel sites, reading travel blogs, looking attravel photos and getting travel advice. After a month of dedicatedresearch, my brain was so full of The Kimberley that I could feelits red dust seeping out of my ears. It was time foraction.

First, I calmly deduced, we would need a new vehicle.Although we already had a fine car, my earlier research suggesteddoubts as to whether my 1979 Mazda RX-7 two door hatchback sportscar would manage the trip. I was especially concerned about itsability to tow the trailer, and to navigate the river crossings infar north Western Australia.

Justas my reservations were emerging, Rex blew a radiator on the wayhome from netball one night to seal his fate of retirement fromactive service. I made the heartbreaking decision to trade him in.I dropped Rex off to the dealership with the same sense offoreboding as when one takes an aging cat with a broken leg to thevet. I can tearfully recall the sad look on Rexs little car faceas his pop-up headlights lowered for the last time.

Intothe void appeared a second hand 2002 Holden Jackaroo. I would liketo say that we gave the car a cool family nickname but in truth itwas simply known as The Jackaroo. Then again, had the real nameof the model been, say, a Holden Jack, then we may well haveextended the moniker to The Jackaroo anyway, so its like the carcame with a pre-ordained nickname.

TheJackaroos previous owners were a lovely old couple who had alreadytaken it on a road trip through the Northern Territory. They hadwired up the Jackeroo with a dual-battery system that powered a12-volt fridge in the boot. When we purchased the car from them,they generously included the fridge and batteries into the bargain.Furthermore, they charitably offered us a free loan of theirfully-functioning camper trailer, including a heap of camping gear chairs, tables, lamps, and yes, even a kitchen sink. They threwin some fishing gear that they thought they would no longer use.Very generous indeed were this lovely old couple.