Road to Girraween: TLC, Tears, and Pizza

The road stretched out endlessly before us, as if teasing us with the promise of adventure just beyond the horizon. Girraween National Park, with its towering Castle Rock, beckoned, but first, our trusty bus, our home on wheels, needed a little TLC.

We found ourselves in the bustling aisles of Bunnings in Warwick, searching for the perfect taps to tame our unruly breather hoses. Anth, my ever-resourceful partner, worked his magic with tools and tapware, while I fended off the persistent advances of the local fly population.

With the bus back in harmony, we pressed on, finally reaching the sanctuary of the national park. The gentle hum of fellow campers mingled with the whispers of rustling leaves, creating a symphony of serenity. But even amidst the tranquility, my heart ached for the laughter and love of our children, now miles away.

Tears welled in my eyes, but I brushed them away, determined to embrace the present. Each new destination, each moment of beauty, held its own unique gift, waiting to be unwrapped.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the landscape, the tantalising aroma of homemade pizza filled the air. Our trusty air fryer, a beacon of culinary delight, had worked its magic once again. With full bellies and grateful hearts, we settled in beneath a canvas of stars, ready to embrace the adventures that awaited us at dawn's first light.

The next day the sun beat down like a relentless drummer as we set out on our 6km trek to Bald Rock Creek. The air shimmered with heat, and even the birds seemed to be taking a siesta. But we were determined to reach the Junction, where two small tributaries joined forces on their long journey to the mighty Murray Darling.

Granite Arch, a testament to nature's artistry, greeted us with its rugged beauty. We paused to admire its chiseled contours, sipping water to replenish our reserves. But even the shade offered little respite from the oppressive heat. By the time we returned to our trusty oasis on wheels, we were well-done adventurers, ready for a cool shower under the open sky.

Our recirculating shower had the cool water cascading over us like a balm, washing away the sweat and dust of the day. As we rested beneath our bus fans, sipping cool drinks, the Outback night began to stir. The stars emerged, twinkling like a million fireflies against the velvet sky.

Sal, feeling a pang of homesickness, retired early to the sanctuary of our cozy bed. I lingered a while longer, watching the shadows dance on the rust-colored earth.

Morning brought a chorus of birdsong and a renewed sense of adventure. We tackled our first load of hand washing, mastering the old-fashioned fishing method with ease. And as the sun climbed higher, we were rewarded with a front-row seat to one of Australia's most iconic spectacles: a pair of boxing kangaroos.

Anth, ever the documentarian, captured the scene on video as we watched in awe from the comfort of our bus. The kangaroos, an older male and younger joey, possibly siblings, sparred and danced, their tails thumping the ground in a rhythmic beat. It was a scene straight out of a nature documentary, and we felt privileged to witness it.

As we continued our journey, the landscape unfolded before us like a tapestry of colours and textures. And always, the sun beat down, a constant reminder of the raw, untamed beauty of this ancient land.En savoir plus