24th December 2016

Picture this – a night at the William Creek Hilton with a good morning camp shower the next day (cold as the engine had not been running results in three squealing women chasing each other in and out from under the torturous shower head whilst trying to rid themselves of lathered soap) and a stomach that has suitably recovered from the previous days trauma.  Fuelling up Miss 10 and I wandered in to the pub to pay for the Diesel only to be advised, “I heard about you guys” – we are William Creek Vomit Legends.

I had heard about a natural spring down the road that also had an outback museum, so we decided a swim in the sparkling, natural, healing waters of the Artesian Basin was in order.  Fortunately no one else was there, as only three of us fit in the bubbling pool (not enough cellulite busting), but the pressure of the spring gave a sensational massage and we felt like gold after it!  As for the museum – well, like the ruins in the West Mac ranges – it sucked.  In fact it was boarded up, so that ended that!

The various conditions of the Oodnadatta Track are rather legendary – even more so now that vomit rockets have traversed half of it intact – however we were pleasantly surprised.  This surprise was thwarted when we found out it had been recently graded (so much for thinking it was a piece of piss – enter embarrassing ego moment).  There is, I am sure much to everyone’s astonishment, a thriving art scene on the track – giant dogs, spaceship installations and even a giant wildflower!  I was like a Chinese tourist – stop, photo, keep going, stop, photo, keep going, stop, photo – next town!

We pushed on to the Flinders Ranges after the non cellulite busting track – stopping in Marree for a beer so I could admire the sterling mud job I had done on the truck.  Having driven to the end of the track there was a river crossing right before Marree – and yes, I am well aware of the fact one should not plough through a river crossing 4WD or not) but like a child on Christmas morning, I couldn’t help myself.  I floored it through, much to the delight of the girls and got a bit more bang for my buck than anticipated – the water came right over the top – couldn’t see diddly squat but I felt like such a bogan.

On the Husband’s decision (I was too tired to even contemplate a decision making process) we opted to bush camp in the Parachilna Gorge.  This is where I discovered Miss 10 speaks Mountain Goat.  No sooner had we pitched up, when Miss 10 became infatuated with them and took it upon herself to morph into Eddie Murphy and begin a ‘talk to the animals’ episode.  This continued until dinner when it was decided the Husband should join in the Scattegories war as we were all excited and pumped about seeing a baby fox in the camp.  Belly laughs, arguments in earnest and of course, I came out the victor – dare not challenge a workaholic woman who gave birth to two babies without the aid of drugs, threatened to sue the hospital and argued with a midwife who refused to believe her baby (the second one) was coming out – well didn’t she look like a right royal idiot when she got down on her hands and knees underneath me only to realise the baby’s head was poking out – I TOLD YOU IT WAS COMING.  Note to all – babies can be born when mumma has been in labour for only 40 minutes.

Miss 12 pitched in making the salad (this is highly unusual for Miss 12) and we paired the meal with the bottle of Shiraz the delightful Tony from the Desert View Apartments in Coober Pedy had given us for Christmas – such a sweetie!  Bush pee, bush teeth brush, bush face clean and we settled in for the night.

Wilpena Pound was our next stop but we thought we would whack in a bit  more 4WD practise first.  By the end of it, to be honest, I was totally over corrugated and rocky roads – I’m done – smooth is how we like it for the rest of the trip please.  The hike was a decent eight kilometres and the view of the pound amazing.  Bit of trivia – it is called Wilpena Pound as the person who discovered it thought the circular formation of mountains around the plain looked like a cattle ‘pound’.  It was interesting to contemplate how 100 years ago, pasturalists thought it a good idea to run cattle and sheep in the area – I wonder how many “good ideas” will come to fruition in the future that turn out to be catastrophically STUPID!

We hit the big city of Adelaide the next day and had the opportunity to have an awesome catch up with Miss J over a bottle of Crozer after running onto the beach to feel the sand between our toes after three weeks of dust.  That was all we managed to accomplish (other than buying some track pants for the kids as the nights have grown a wee bit chilly!) until the next day when we ventured out.  We had been busting to see the new Star Wars movie Rogue One, and to my tight arse delight, the local, family run, old school cinema only a 20 minute walk away down a beautiful, grassed esplanade was doing a $7.00 per person summer special.  Kids were stoked, for once in their movie going careers I let them have popcorn and a slushie as I had saved so much on the tickets!

The Husband wanted to have a beer on Hindley Street (I could not for the life of me understand why as it is a hole) so we walked to the train station whilst breaking down every aspect of the movie to take him to see it.  Actually, we left him on Hindley Street and the girls and I made for Haigh’s, a quick street art tour of the ones I knew and a tight arse $20.00 Chinese massage – these three things, aside from ALL THE WINE, are the only things I really like about Adelaide – oh and the fact I am going to see Gun’s n Roses there in February!

After such a pleasant and relaxing day, a beer on the balcony of the surf club watching the sun go down, was DESTROYED – and this was the view I left.

By 8.00pm I was about ready to commit homicide – the child’s name was Sienna and the little shit was camped with her two turdy brothers and their parents right next to us who keep issuing bullshit threats – “you won’t get dinner if you don’t be quiet!” – yeah sure, like you aren’t going to feed your child.  Empty threats – and these little fuckers knew it.

It was going to be an ear plugs kind of night as the parents were still yelling and threatening the little shits for over and hour and they were STILL AWAKE!!!  The light then fired up in the caravan and the parents bribed them with cookies.  Great way to make a kid go to sleep – load the little Everyready Bunnies with some sugar!  Excellent plan – I had to bust out the “in the event of emergency” miniature 12 year old Chivas shot and combine it with a Valium.

FARRRKKKK – an hour later and it was still whinging – hilarious – Dad by this stage has told little brother to get out of the van – as if.  Now Sienna is screaming and the brother is laughing – dad is losing his shit and I reckon I was going to fall over laughing fairly soon – thoughts of homicide had been over run with hilarity.  Husband came back from doing the mountain of dishes I caused, and this little sideshow was going to be great fodder.  First however, I had to fall on my sword and apologise to him – Witchy Wife had made an appearance – I blamed the turd burgers next door.  No shit – they WERE STILL CRAPPING ON!!!!!  This was now over two hours later!  My creative fabulousness was dissolving at a rapid rate and I had to retire and continue later with fairer conditions.

Bahahaha.  6.30am – the little monsters were riding their bikes up and down the road SCREAMING AND RINGING THE BELLS – I was going to kill them and bury the bodies with their bikes and scooters and feign ignorance.  I realise camping time starts early – but generally noise is controlled until at least  7.30am.  Obviously their parents got so drunk last night being unable to cope they were still snoring and completely oblivious to what the turd burgers were doing.

My kids aren’t perfect, neither are my friend’s kids – but that broke all the parenting rules.

Time for Carpe Diem – let’s get out of here!