We decided to ditch the caravan for a couple of days and head to Fraser Island for a bit of 4 wheel driving. This consisted of us getting up at 5am, getting ready and heading to the car barge by 6.15. Excited as they were to be heading to the Island Mr & Mrs Clarkie are not early risers, more so the female of the duo. Going into a tailspin, Mrs Clarkie decided that getting up so early the next day required her to have a nanna nap that afternoon to try and pre catch up on the 5am wake up time the next day, I do not compute to this kind of logic but whatever floats your boat I say. I do feel that our 8.30 p.m bedtime was taking it a little to far as we are not driving a nursing home on wheels.
We are up, Mrs Clarkie confused and dazed was drip fed her cup of tea and loaded into the car looking like a deer in headlights and barely functioning, the poor girl needs her 8 hrs. To our delight the view across the bay was amazing, Fraser Island here we come. Now it has to be said that The Husband is more used to luxury cars rather than the 4 wheel drive. When he bought it, it caused shock not only to me but our outside circle of friends and family, what the hell was he going to do with it….and then it dawned on me. Wash it. The husband washes cars like it’s a sport, if he states that he is just going to quickly wash a car, I know that I won’t see him for 4 hrs. Then he realised you could carry things in it. Seems logical since it is a Ute, god forbid though if you get it scratched or dirty, you guessed it, wash and a polish it again just for good measure, but I digress.
We loaded ourselves onto the car barge then onto the island. Fraser Island is mostly sand, so driving requires you to let your tyres down to make it easier to drive in the the conditions. Mr Clarkie has a great new gadget that reads the pressure and lets the tyres down, The Husband has a four wheel drive with all the bells and whistles, he pushes the tyre gauge, down they go and you can read the level inside the car. You beaut CB radio is on like real 4 wheel driving professionals and we head off to the beautiful Lake McKenzie, it’s sandy, it rough, it’s fun, I look at The Husbands face, our first call from the Wandering West Australians comes in, “how’s it going” well I say ” The Husband may need a Valium and his blood pressure taken, he’s got that look”, that look where one of his beloved vehicles is about to get dirty, possibly scratched or god forbid slightly dented in any way, thank god Im a nurse, I go over my CPR manoeuvres in my head in case he has a full breakdown.
Upon arrival, Lake McKenzie is magical, pristine, a freshwater heaven. It’s so blue you’d think it was photoshopped, the sand is pure white, the water is different colour blues, well this is what I saw. The Husbands version may be different, upon arrival Lake McKenzie is beautiful, pristine, the sand pure white and the barely there bikini clad women in their 20’s are scattered everywhere like eye candy. The husbands are in tropical g string heaven. Mrs Clarkie and I madly take happy snaps, Mr Clarkie to his absolute delight was asked by a scantily clad breasty young woman to take a photo of her whole group. His day was complete and it was only 10am.
We drag ourselves away for more 4 wheel driving adventure, The Husband has calmed down somewhat, we head to the beach. The beach is miles and miles of perfection, you can drive as far as you like, we eventually stop for lunch. Prawns, champagne, this 4 wheel driving stuff is great. We press on. After spending the day seeing spectacular sights we decide to commence the journey back. Mr Clarkie leads the departure and it takes all of 2 mins to become axel deep in sand. The man ritual begins. The Husband gets out of the car, Mr Clarkie has tried to reverse and she’s in further. The Husband “she’s in deep mate”. Mr Clarkie ” yep, forgot to put the gears into 4 wheel drive”. The Husband ” yep, that’ll do it”. After this intelligent conversation they are joined by another male, he offers to pull them out with a snatch and grab (a tight rope thingy that can, if it snaps kill you; but can drag you from the sand pit) Unfortunately husband 1 & 2 are so busy working out how they are going to dig the car out that they don’t hear him, the man happily retreats to watch their efforts. They start to dig, gather branches to support the wheels (very Crocodile Dundee moment). This doesn’t work, by now we have 2 men in cars watching, 1 man standing watching, 2 husbands alternately digging and collecting sticks when another 2 men rock up and offer to pull them out with a snatch and grab. Great idea except man 1 offered that 20 mins ago. We women sigh loudly as only women can. We are out, I’m driving, miles and miles of bumping and sand and criticism, oh yes the beer drinking back seat driver, talk about needing Valium now, I should of laced his bottle with it…”you’re too close, watch that tree, oh my god the tyres, if this car has scratches it’s because you have no depth perception.” Sometimes you just wanna lean across and stab them in the head.
We made it back, where prior to leaving the next day we had to refill the tyres. The Husband refills his, Mr Clarkie commences refilling his tyres and lo and behold, that new gadget thingy for reducing air pressure had not removed any air at all, he had driven the whole Island on full pressure. Men…. you can’t live without em and you can’t kill em when they behave like idiots. I must admit The Husband and I found a car bumper sticker that said ” I got bogged on Fraser Island” we couldn’t help ourselves and added it to Mr Clarkies bumper.
Caravanning in Heels 