First Caravan Park

I don't think people who know me would say I lack confidence. I am fortunate enough to have an outlook on life that says "How hard can it be?" rather than "I can't do it". As long as I can rememeber it's always been the case but as one gets older First Experiences become less. When did you last do something for the first time? When you are young those experiences trip over each other. First day at school, first exam, first time speaking in public, first date, first kiss. Gradually though doing something for the first tme becomes a rare experience. For me, reversing a caravan into it's allocated spot in a caravan park fits into that category. I tell myself a yacht is harder. 12 tons, no brakes but that rationale  isn't quelling the butterflies in my stomach as I pull into the caravan park reception area. The admin person had a kindly smile so I confide in her that I am flying solo and a virgin at this. Could someone help me perhaps? She laughed and said that there would be lots of people near my site and they would all be keen to lend a hand.

Unfortunately that didn't fill me with confidence either. I have been to many marinas where the sport at sundowners is to watch new cruisers try to bring their boat into a dock. Help isn't as plentiful as criticism and often only materialises if someone's boat is in danger of getting bumped. With an increasing feeling of foreboding I filled in the forms, paid my money, and was given the park map. I cruised the park, Towed Hall following like an oversized obedient puppy until I found Site #51. I overshot, selected reverse and spun the wheel. Towed Hall pivoted like a ballerina, I straightened up. First attempt, nailed it! I climbed out of the car to admire my handiwork and receive the applause which would undoubtedly be forthcoming. Then I realised that while my caravan was sitting absolutely dead centre on the concrete apron, all my neighbours were parked on the grass to the right of it, using the concrete as a sort of outside patio. Lesson learned. 

Now I am just wondering how to reattached the caravan solo in 3 days time.

Transitioning from a life on the sea

I honestly thought it would be easier.

I had lived on my sailing boat Dreamagic for nearly 13 years. I was used to living with minimum “stuff” in a confined space so moving to the caravan life would be an easy transition.

Sailing makes you safety conscious. I was probably mid level in that regard. I wouldn’t take a boat out without the correct safety gear on board but the decision to use it was optional. I didn't check the keel bolts, add the 3rd painter to a towed dinghy or do a VHF radio check with Coast Guard every time before I left the marina. (I assume from reading the lectures that people give on Facebook to anyone who has had a misfortune at sea that there are some people who do this. After all the safety checks they say they perform I wonder how they fit actually sailing into a day out). Mostly safety was left to common sense and an assumption that should something need attention on the voyage, I could attend to it on the voyage. That attitude has put me in good stead, with some exciting exceptions for the 35 years of my association with sailing boats and the more than 60 odd years of my life come to think of it.

However, while there are obviously similarities between sailing and caravanning, there are some huge differences, most of which I am learning the hard way.

First lesson. Secure the caravan before setting off.

The methodology of caravanning is fairly simple. Like boats, you pack your home away, drag it to wherever you are going, and open it up. For experienced caravanners, the sight when you open the door should be similar to the sight when you closed it a couple of hundred kilometres before. For beginners like me, not so much. On a boat if something falls over you hear it crash and fix it. In a caravan it’s left to its own devices until you revisit it.  On my first trip I neglected to lock an overhead cupboard and also latch the cutlery drawer. During the trip the drawer front came detached completely, showering the caravan floor with assorted cutlery, cooking utensils, plastic bags and other items I had put in there for “safekeeping”. Not to be outdone, the cupboard disgorged it's contents into the mix. A bottle of dishwashing liquid hit the floor at such an angle as to shatter the top so that 450ml of highly concentrated, lemon smelling, guaranteed to cut through the heaviest grime and grease liquid oozed into every nook and cranny. The bottle label said that I would be suprised how far a small amount of this liquid would go. Truth in advertising. The floor is now gleaming.

Second Lesson. RTFM*

I don't watch much TV. Indeed although I had a TV on Dreamagic I never watched it but Towed Hall, my caravan has a satellite dish on the roof and a couple of black boxes inside that control all this. I turned the TV on, pushed some buttons on the black box  and I could hear this faint whirring noise coming from the roof. Outside I observed that the satellite dish had risen from its position of slumber on the roof of the van and was now erect and slowly revolving as it searched for a satellite to lock onto. How cool is this! Like something from ET Go Home it searched the skies until it found what it was looking for and locked in.

I scanned through the dozens of channels that were now available but I don't speak Croatian, Cooking for Vegans is of little interest and the mating habits of the Peruvian Dung Beetle, whilst riveting for other dung beetles I am sure, holds little relevance to my life at present. I turned the TV off, but the satellite dish remained transfixed by the sky, striking a very space age silhouette on the roof. I pushed some buttons on the black box and went back outside to check the status of the dish. It had not retreated but instead of remaining stationary was now turning slowly, almost menacingly searching the darkening sky. I retreated to what I now thought of as “The Command Centre” and pushed some more black box buttons. Lights flashed from the console but going back outside and gazing at the roof showed no effect to the dishes behaviour. 

I come from an IT background. I have also wrestled with (and won against) the vagaries of a fully networked Raymarine Axiom plotter and GPS boat navigation system. With a background like that I am not easily deterred by what should be a reasonably simple task, getting the satellite dish to retract. However all of these units had one thing in common, a button to switch them off. The satellite black box has nearly a dozen different buttons, and a myriad of flashing lights in various colours. One set even flashes in sequence like a graph. However not one button is labeled OFF.

I find when faced with a problem like this that by walking away for an hour or so you can approach it later with fresh eyes. I have also found that a glass of wine at this point can help. Taking this problem solving technique to its logical conclusion walking away for good and knocking out a bottle of red should definitely have the desired effect. Amazingly it did! Apparently because the TV was off and the dish had no one to talk to it got tired of the game, timed out and took itself to bed. 

*RTFM was an acronym used on Help Desks in the 80’s. It translates to Read The F*#king Manual

To be continued. If you want to be notified when it is, please subscribe!

Introducing the Characters

This is the story of a middle aged man who is feeling superfluous to life but is resisting travelling the predetermined path to retirement and senility.

Born in England, I moved to Australia when I was 30. My career was mainly in Corporate Management but I did start, develop and sell a couple of businesses which allowed me to retire in my forties. I was married twice before realising I am not very good at that.  

Knowing that one's height up a Corporate ladder was only one measurement of success, and still hungry enough not to settle for mediocrity I bought a sailing boat and lived on that, migrating with the whales up and down the East Coast of Australia.(Capt'n Willi Cinque ) That lasted nearly 13 years but single handing a 44 ft yacht became increasingly arduous.

So in August 2021 I sold Dreamagic. My original plan was to return to Europe, buy an old Porsche in Germany and be that crazy Englishman travelling France with his poodle eating blue cheese and drinking red wine. Unfortunately because some Chinese guy decided that eating a Pangolin would improve his libido Covid 19 arrived and postponed that plan. A standby plan developed to buy a 4WD and Caravan and travel Australia.

This is that story.