Tuesday morning saw us up early, long before the
alarm clock went off; Chris had had very little sleep although his eye was
looking a lot better, thank goodness. We packed lunch into the eski, and set
off away from Bli Bli, west through the lush coastal valleys, back out onto the
Bruce Highway and joined the heavy traffic heading south. We left the highway
at Caboolture, now all too familiar, and called into the Pawn Shop we had
managed to off load the very first of our discards. Alas, today was not as
successful; we received about one third of what we had so very recently paid
for the solar panel and accessories purchased with a view to storing the rig.
Still, better than nothing, I suppose.
Back on the highway, we received a text from Gary
from Darwin; his flight was delayed and he would not be in until midday. As we
neared the north eastern outskirts of Brisbane, I recalled the existence of the
Boondall Wetlands Park, a park we had visited on our last stay in Brisbane,
part of the Mountain to Coast Greenway. We stopped by, not a grand detour at
all, because even as one walks through the casurarinas and melaleucas, glimpses
and sound of the traffic barreling through on the Gateway Motorway can be
caught from the cycle path, a kilometre or so of which we walked to stretch our
legs and to fill in time. Back in the car we ate half of our lunch and drained
the thermos, still far short of midday but we could well imagine our meal
routine would be shot if we did not attend to this now.
Resuming our route, we called by the hotel we are
booked into for the last two nights before we fly out, the first of these
nights really quite unnecessary the way things have panned out, but how were we
to know? It looked alright despite the rather dismal reports I had since read
on Trip Advisor, but it is in the middle of a light industrial zone, handy to
the airport and more or less inaccessible to anyone but those who come by car
or shuttle bus. We spied a big new shopping centre, Skygate, I think, but this
too seems to be just as inaccessible to all but the motorist. God forbid that
we will be limited to eating hotel food! Us, the self-caterers from way back!
We were still far too early to meet Gary but parked
up in the Domestic Airport car park anyway, a mistake because we could have
saved ourselves a whole lot of dosh if we had hung around the Boondall instead.
Airport car parks are rip offs all over the world, are they not?
So we waited and waited for the delayed Jetstar
flight from Darwin, and finally he came through, a “small chap aged fifty
eight, wearing jeans”. We introduced ourselves then all set off to the rental
car pick up area. I had booked this the previous day but not received the
confirmation and detail in time by email, however a quick telephone call that
morning had confirmed it was all on track. I had followed this up twice more
when we were delayed, but at no time understood that we were to go in a shuttle
back to their office to sign up and be sorted for the hire. This did not go
down well, however I grabbed Chris’s Queensland licence, kissed him goodbye and
jumped in the van, hoping it would all pan out.
Chris and Gary had to go via a place in Southbank
to collect a draw fitting for the landcruiser which we all imagined would take
them an hour or so. I had my water bottle, the newspaper and a book so was
happy enough to fill in the time. However by the time I untangled the mess at
Ace Rentals that I had made and set off across the river and west to Cooper
Plains, without a navigational device, just a list of roads scribbled on a
scrap of paper and the memory of the map, they were at the transport company
waiting for me.
 |
| Farewell to our well travelled wagon |
Paperwork all round was attended to efficiently and
the cheque in the bank on the journey back into the city where we dropped Gary
to do some shopping at David Jones for his city-shopping-starved wife. The
whole business had been smooth and Gary had proved a delight to do business
with. All was well in the world!
We headed back to the Sunshine Coast, stopping at a
roadhouse for an ice-cream and a change of drivers; Chris slept the rest of the
way home. Over a dinner of bacon, eggs and beans, complimented by a bottle of
fine wine, we congratulated each other on having finally sold the rig, albeit
at knockdown prices. And in case you are wondering what we eventually did sell
it all for; we made a loss of about one third of the cost, and that is all I
will say here.
This morning dawned with stormy skies, not at all
promising for the last load of laundry planned. I hung it all out and we headed
into Maroochydore to the Queensland Transport Authority to hand the landcruiser
number plates in. Alas, Wednesday is a late opening for this office, unbeknown
to the twenty or so other folk who had turned up for whatever reason. Finally
we were served but were told the refund of registration and third party
insurance would be mailed out by cheque. A fat lot of good that is!!! And that
is what we said although Chris added a few other words. We have had to contact
our niece on the Gold Coast to attend to the wind up of this matter. Unlike
this stupid antiquated government department, our insurance company has been
brilliant and so we are almost sorted as regards vehicle business.
The rest of the day, after dropping yet another
load of stuff to the Lifeline shop, including boxes of tools, has been spent
packing, weighing, discarding and repacking; all very upsetting although I am
trying to think positively about having had to discard half my wardrobe. I will
have to buy some new clothes! Actually that was something I had hoped I would
not have to do for some years now I am no longer working.
