Just another normal night beside the Snowy River

Well we made it through the fire ravaged road and arrived in Orbost without being arrested and with the car crawling along on unleaded fumes. First stop to find petrol then where to stay? With darkness starting to fall it was too late to look for our usual sort of campsite i.e. free, so we booked in to the local caravan park, threw up the tent and decided on a takeaway rather than do any cooking. Sandra was exhausted. We managed to get a very mediocre pizza, eat half of it then went to bed.

Up bright and breezy the next day we did a shopping and decided to head for Buchan to visit the famous (?) Buchan Caves. This was about 60k away on a dirt road – we never got there. Distracted by a sign to Stringers Knob – Historic Fire Lookout we diverted from course and found ourselves staring up at a huge man-made wooden tower with a lookout platform on top with an interesting information board about firewatching in Victoria. Unfortunately, unlike the Gloucester Tree in W.A. you weren't able to climb it.

Stringers Knob - firewatch tower

Hearing another vehicle coming up the hill we should have left there and then and we would not be in our current predicament – hindsight is a wonderful thing. An ancient Toyota with plenty of off-road grunt ground its way towards us and parked. Having passed due pleasantries, as we made to leave one of the two guys said there was a fabulous camping spot not to far away at a place called Sandy Point. “Just turn left and after about one k you'll see the track, just follow it for about twenty minutes. The road's a bit rough but it should be OK but I wouldn't like to do it in the wet.” If only we had gone to the Buchan Caves!

Our new home at Sandy Point next to the Snowy River

The road was rough and steep, not really serious four wheel driving but bad enough to make you concentrate but with two particularly steep drops as you near the campsite. After about half an hour we arrived at Sandy Point. There is a bend in the river, it was the famous Snowy River, the sweep of the opposite bank rose steeply and was thickly covered in gum trees. Our side of the river was relatively clear with plenty of space for camping right next to the slow flowing river. We set up camp, explored and generally lazed around until it was beer-o-clock and got stuck into the VB Gold from the fridge. It was a dry, hot afternoon and at about 5 o'clock both Sandra and I got the first smell of wood burning and saw smoke rising. Being very isolated it was unlikely to be a house or other campers and, having been through the devastation of the bush fires the day before, we were very aware of the potential problem.

A couple of forays into the surrounding bush revealed nothing – so we decided to stay. This could have been the wrong decision. I am typing this at Sandy Point with no internet access and I assume that if this ever appears in the blog and you are reading,it that all turned out OK. However, as I type, I have no idea how easy it is going to be getting away from our campsite and back on the road again.



Some things never change - breakfast in bed as usual

An unusual sight!!

It was a hot evening and we left both the inside and outside windows down for as much air as possible – then, in true Douglaswalkabout fashion, at about 8pm it started to rain. Gently at first and, as I prepared to batten down the hatches, Sandra said that the two layers of window mesh should be enough to keep the rain out. At about 10pm as the rain got heavier we closed the inside windows leaving the outside ones open – that should be OK said Sandra. Midnight saw me outside bollock naked except a head torch zipping down the outside windows and checking the guys and getting soaked. And then the main storm hit.

We could hear it coming. Before it arrived there was a whooshing sound as the wind shook the trees, then about 30 seconds later, the wind and “real” rain hit us. By this time we were water proofed but I was wishing I had been a bit more diligent with guying out the tent. The battering of the rain on the roof was deafening and Sandra and I had to shout to make ourselves heard – and then came the thunder and lightening.

Suddenly, for the briefest of seconds, the inside of the tent was awash with lightening, the roof appeared white and the poles of the tent showed up like a black skeleton – it was like being inside a weird X-ray machine. I tried the old trick of counting the seconds between flashes and the thunder but at times this was impossible as the thunder of the rain on the tent out-thundered the noise of the real thunder. With Sandra sleeping, or at least lying on the river side of the tent, I suggested that she try to listen for the river to see if it were rising – we didn't want to get washed away! What was really going through my mind was what was happening to the road, would we be able to get out? What seemed to be a throwaway remark about doing this road in the wet by the chap at the fire tower was coming home to haunt me.

At about 2.30am the storm abated or at least I must have fallen asleep.

It is now the following morning, the rain has stopped, everything outside is saturated, much of the surface of the very rough and steep bit of track leading out of the campsite has come down the slope to join us. Our debate now is whether to stay here for another day or get the hell out of here ASAP.

On the bright side it doesn't look as if we are going to burn to death in a bushfire.