Stopped for a long lazy lunch (because…views) in Marlo. A small town at the point where the Snowy River rides out into the Great Southern Ocean.
I don’t care what you say, there is nothing better than a thick lather of quality dark roasted peanut butter on fresh rye bread to fill a hypoglycemic belly-hole and balance your chakras.
Wash it down with a hot lashing of tea (best when made by someone else named Kelly), and follow through with a sleepy nap cradled in rolling surf sounds and crisp ocean smells.
Tonight we have snagged a sweet spot right beside the river.
When travelling in Ripley we quickly fall into our set up routine. Set up varies depending if we are in a van park, free camping (like tonight) or keeping it low key and under the radar in an urban setting.
We each go about our unassigned tasks. Unpacking all the bits and bobs that are securely stowed when driving. Hooking into power, turning on the gas, opening up the skylights. Then setting up the outside mats and chairs. By this time it’s usually half-past snacks. So there is coffee to brew or beer to pour depending on the angle of the sun.
And then there is usually some sort of brief intermezzo, like when I chase Juno around the van because has just snaffled a pair of my underpants from the dirty laundry bag and is using them to try to wave down traffic.
Later the density of mosquitoes finally interrupts my reading, driving us both inside where Kelly whips up a couple of veggo ’Buddha bowls’ under the guidance of Aretha Franklin and John Coltrane.