No golfing

Free camping takes a lot of getting used to.

In small towns or out in the bush its no problem. We camp, we buy things from the local shops, and no one seems to mind.

Cities on the other hand are another matter entirely.

Technically there should not be anything illegal about sleeping in your car (and plenty of people have to). But it is something that has so much stigma and fear attached to it. Or at least, I feel like it does.

There are fears for your own safety, fear of the police or council inspectors (which for me is more a fear about screaming when they wake us up followed by the embarrassment of having to pack up our stuff in my pyjamas) and fear of people seeing you when they walk their dogs in the morning and then calling the aforementioned police or council inspectors.

Adelaide was our first urban free camping experience. And it was both nerve wracking and relationship testing. Wikicamps had done the hard work for us by recommending a good place to hole up for the night - a large park with a hedged parking area. We arrived late and were relieved to find a camper van and several cars already in residence. But then, where to park?

Cultural differences come out at the oddest times. It would seem to me completely obvious that when trying to camp surreptitiously in a park, one would park one's car in the darkest, most hidden corner possible - in this case tucked away next to the hedge. Equally, it seemed completely obvious to Luis that when sleeping in one's car, the logical place to park is in a nice open location where (quote) 'you can see what is coming from all sides'.  Luis was driving. I was navigating.

Some time later we were finally installed in the Jazz listening to the periodic sounds of cars approaching, pausing and then driving off rather fast. Perhaps, we thought, they were locals accustomed to fewer neighbours in this particular spot.

In the morning, terrified of the dog walkers and their judgement, I made us get up very early.

It's was beautiful park and uniquely South Australian, with ancient twisted gums spread across the lawns. We sipped our instant coffee and smiled at grandparents walking with their grandkids. I even smiled at the dogs (through was still wary of the owners).

On the second night at this park we slept soundly. Firstly because when I went to clean up after breakfast at the public toilets I noticed that they sported a sign reading 'golf prohibited'. I reasoned that if this was the major concern in the vicinity of the toilets then we were fine.

Secondly, after our leisurely breakfast we returned to our packed up and innocent looking car only to find that the camper van in fact had a tent pitched next to it and the hippy's within were only just emerging, blinking, into the light of day. IN THEIR UNDIES! (Luis' emphasis).

Japanese funk and the freaks

We started travelling in March because we needed a deadline and that deadline was Saturday 8 March in Adelaide for my annual pilgrimage to WOMAD.

I love pretty much everything about WOMAD. The tasty food, iced coffee sitting on the sticky carpet of the chai tent, picnic rugs spreading out like multi-coloured moss from the base of every morton bay fig and dozing off to the sounds of something fascinating and magical and otherworldly.

But over the years I've come to realise that nothing is ever going to come close to my first WOMAD. Perfect experiences just can't be repeated.

This year was a case in point. For financial reasons we had decided to only go to one day and night of the festival. On the main stage we caught a Japanese funk band that essentially impersonated James Brown. They wore suits and ties and were sensational. But I was left with the feeling that they could have been from anywhere. Their only reference to Japan was to say 'we don't play Japanese music'.

There were some astounding Indian acrobats too but throughout their performance, we later admitted to each other, all we could think was 'shouldn't those kids be in school?' (Jess) and 'is that going to damage them for life?!' (Luis).

After blowing a weeks budget on watermelon slurpies, cider and a plate of ribs (I actually asked the guy serving us if they were the ribs, I honestly couldn't see them) we went home to the car.

The next night we decided to try the Fringe. We meandered through the Garden of Unearthly Delights resolutely not buying snacks until we saw the guy juggling chainsaws. Luis loves nothing better than to be simultaneously amazed and horrified. He's intensely squeamish and so, paradoxically, attracted to the possibility of gore. We watched the chainsaw guy through our fingers (he luckily still had his at the end) and then stood still, torn, as the green spruker sold $10 freak show tickets.

Best $20 we ever spent. There was a guy who swallowed balloons, popped them and then extracted them from his stomach. There was someone (see below) with horns implanted in his head and a forked tongue. Apparently he is famous in certain circles. The finale act involved someone getting shot at with a cross bow and catching it mid-flight. Which he did. Effortlessly.

We lashed out on a shared icecream and walked back through the deserted Adelaide streets quietly, hand in hand, pondering the strange things that people do with their time. Luis was very quiet and lost in thought. Finally, and a little hesitantly, he said 'did that arrow seem a little slow to you?'

The Millicent public library

From the minute we moved from home to Hotel Jazz we have become suddenly and almost shockingly dependent on those precious public spaces and facilities we continue to provide for each other. We eat on park benches, fill up at water fountains, shower at the beach and brush our teeth at the public toilets.

But above all these are the most precious of all public resources, libraries. And South Australia does libraries well. Really well.

In Mt Gambier all the most 'youth' books about vampires and loneliness and angsty sex are located close to the doors (to better lure them in) and the kids section has fibreglass caves. There are also silver science fiction villain chairs to read in. And a cafe. It's the greatest.

In the new Adelaide city library in Rundle Mall you can read a book in the roof garden or make a cup of tea. YOU CAN MAKE A CUP OF TEA! And their Spanish language selection would save us (me) a fortune.

At Glenelg the helpful librarian gave us wifi guest passes that are valid for two years and can be used in any public library in South Australia.

But for us it all started at Millicent, where we first crept into the tranquil warmth and shyly asked about internet access before discreetly pulling out our powerboard and recharging everything.

I overheard the group leader of a senior's internet class saying 'you can have as many email addresses as your want... gmail, hotmail, yahoo.. and they're all free!' This was followed by impressed murmurings. Hours later the songs and clapping of story time floated by.

The Tiger Hotel

Luckily, we arrived in Tantanoola on a Schnitzel Wednesday at the Tiger Hotel.

Tantanoola has a population somewhere around 300 people and is off the highway. What it does have is a post office/general store, a wide grassy and shaded railway reserve through the centre of town and the Tiger Hotel. 

The town makes campers welcome with clean public toilets (there is a 24 oncall number on the wall by the wash basin). In return there seems to be an unspoken agreement that the campers eat at the hotel and support the store. 

It seems a great strategy for a small rural town - a way of sustaining local businesses that then can continue to support their towns. 

Our Rojito was among a dozen vans parked under the trees on the railway reserve in the company of a couple of shirtless backpackers in sunglasses charging their phones in the abandoned station house and a fleet of well equipped grey nomads checking their tires.

We dutifully wandered over to the Tiger for an early dinner. It's the sort of warm and friendly place where you are served a giant portion and then given a plate on which to pile salad from the unlimited salad bar. 

In the middle of all this good natured abundance we, shamefully, ordered a single schnitzel with mettwurst - to share. When the lovely and unperturbed waitress offered us two salad plates and two sets of cutlery, we left the second salad plate conspicuously unfilled (and didn't go for seconds) hoping they would at least notice us not taking further advantage of their generosity.  

This was the night we first tested the Jazz's capacity as a camper, with limited success. Luis is somewhere in the vicinity of six foot two and I'm no waif. To the Jazz's credit, we had foolishly prioritised fitting all our camping gear in the front seats, to the detriment of maximal space for the lilo. Beginners mistake that. Anything water proof now goes under the car.

We may look happy here but that's mainly relief at getting the doors closed.
It was downhill from there.

The namesake tiger, by the way, was actually an arctic wolf shot by the fearless locals some time in the nineteenth century. They stuffed it. It's in the pub. What an arctic wolf was doing in rural South Australia is the unanswered question.

Behind the scenes

Since I was last at the Twelve Apostles (admittedly some time ago now), there have been some changes. I remember a remote, rugged coastline. I think I remember it in winter.

Apparently this stretch of coast is now a premium tourist icon. Red helicopters constantly fly overhead and buses race to overtake each other to snaffle a prime parking position in giant car parks. 

In response to all this interest, the local authorities have come up with a somewhat genius idea to keep people on the official tracks. 

Where new tracks are in danger of being created through the cliff top bush, presumably from people offroading in search of a new photo angle, a post has been erected that makes the danger clear. 

The Lock Ard Gorge was an essential stop on our itinerary as, ever a fan of historical reenactment, I had recently insisted that Luis and I visit the Maritime Museum in Warrnambool. Either my childhood memories are grossing exaggerated or it has seen livelier days. 

It does however contain the Loch Ard peacock and many other relics from the famous wreck so I was keen to salvage something of the outing by going to visit the site of the wreck itself.

By the time we arrived we were a little overtired. Luis took one look and declared that this would be where we were going to eat and recuperate from our early start and the hectic days of packing leading up to it.

So we sat on our camp chairs in the shade of a no doubt perilous overhanging cliff and watched the waves. Waves off the Southern Ocean scouring the far side of the gorge and waves of tourists descending to take pictures of each other as each busload arrived.

The 'star jump of holiday joy' seemed to be a favourite with up to four attempts in action at any one time. It seems tricky. You have to time it just so, so that you capture, in focus, a flattering hair flying peak-of-jump moment. It seems harder still if you want one of more friends also in the shot. And when the guy taking it is just some guy you happened to be sitting next to on the bus and you have 20 minutes down in the gorge before you have to climb back onto the bus again, it's a tense negotiation to keep him retaking the same shot until you are happy with it.

From our corner behind the scenes we stirred our stew from a can on the camp stove we had balanced on a rock in the sand and felt very relaxed.

 

Los rojitos

In March 2014, my partner Luis and I started travelling through Australia in our unmistakably on-road and urban Honda Jazz. This little red car (Rojito) will, we hope, take us west from Melbourne across to WA, north along the coast to Darwin and back down south over the next 6 months or so.

While others hire or buy a camper (and after a week on the road, we can see why!) we decided to take the road less travelled and do the trip using our family car and making full use of the Jazz's phenomenal tardis capabilities by squeezing all our gear in the two front seats and stuffing a lilo in the back.

This is both an economic decision and a personal challenge. We are on our way to live in Colombia (Luis' home) for a while and wanted to see some of Australia before we went. But seeing as we both quit our (day) jobs to do this, have a mortgage to pay and need our savings for our imminent relocation half way around the world, we are on a pretty tight budget.

We also both have a passion for alternative economics - a phrase I am probably misusing to refer to ways of creating, distributing and sharing value outside of the formal economy in ways that enable people and communities to meet their needs and generate income on their own terms, especially those excluded or disadvantaged by the formal economy.

(We met, as it happens, through Couchsurfing).

I also believe that the only just way out of our endlessly unfolding environmental catastrophe is to radically revalue material resources. That is, make the best possible use of what we have so we don't have to dig up/chop down/burn more.

So this trip is both an adventure in discovering Australia and the people who live and work here (outside inner Melbourne that is) and in exploring some of the potential of alternative economics.

As we go we are trying as far as possible to participate in exchange networks, make use of public services and public places and learn to value what we have.