It did look promising. As we drove down the escarpment road into the village of Horrocks Beach it had a 'good feel' about it. Time will tell. But for now we had to set up camp.
We turned off the main entry road and made our way past the southern side of the caravan park
to the park office and entry point where the redoubtable Cassandra provided us with a park site map and directions as to the best way to access our site.
Seemed simple enough, but, as is my habit, I walked the park to see at first hand what we would be dealing with. I was not entirely convinced that her directions were the most appropriate, but decided a park manager should have some idea. So it was off through the very tight entrance roadway...our first challenge for the morning. With our combined length we just squeaked through.
On past the camp kitchen
and the green surrounds of the ablution block I drove. All was well so far.
Cassandra had mentioned that the roadway in front of our allotted site was tight. My inspection had confirmed that, but, taking her at her word, we attempted to back on in the direction she had advised. Now I have to say with all due modesty that with Liz behind the wheel following my directions, we have berthed the lump we call home on some pretty challenging sites with a minimum of fuss, but from the word go I knew that this one would not be easy. Apart from the limited turning room, we had to negotiate the corner of the cabin which was immediately next to our patch, a large tree and a series of roadway light posts which restricted our turning range even more....a perfect storm of hazards.
After three false starts I put Liz in on the tightest angle we could manage. And then it happened. I have never before taken off our long weight distribution bars prior to backing. I have always been concerned about dragging the A frame. But that was before the rear coil air bags! As the van almost jack-knifed in our attempts to get on site, I heard an ominous crunch and creak. All engines stop....immediately. Bugger, bugger, bugger! With the added lift now provided to the cruiser's tail, the mounting bracket of the right side hitch had fouled the underside of the rear right bumper panel on the cruiser. This was not good. "Come forward very, very slowly, Lizzy". With another pulse rate accelerating crunch we were extricated.
My tenuous inspection, with all fingers tightly crossed, showed that we had sustained minimal damage..a tiny tear to the bottom of the panel which had dislodged from its holding brackets, but not to the extent I could not successfully clip it back on properly with no resultant ill effects.
As you may have guessed, all this took place in front of a watching local audience of at least ten fellow campers, two of whom had the good grace to later tell me that they did not think we had any chance of getting on from either direction, and were more than impressed with our final efforts. A slight salve to my wounded ego.
"This is no good, Liz. Bloody Cassandra and her directions. Hop out. I'm going to take it right around the park and bring us in the other way." Which I did, and, with a welcome return to our normal skills, and some amelioration of my previous embarrassment and ire, we were finally on site, but strangely enough not before the weight distribution hitches had been removed pre-manoeuvres.
As you can see from this shot, the corner of the cabin and the tree on the right of our site are in very close attendance, and we only just fitted lengthwise, with the end of the A frame but a foot off the roadway.
But once we were anchored, this did prove to be a good spot. The pine needles underfoot made a soft base for our annex floor matting, and once I had trimmed the tree under which I had to park the cruiser, and with the Vogts tucked in next to us, we were all set.
Despite the initial difficulties, we did have plenty of room on our annex side, and a fair degree of shade and shelter.
And our view from the front across the adjacent sports complex (bowls and tennis) and along the green fairways of the local nine hole golf links to the escarpment beyond, did provide a fair degree of compensation for our initial trials and tribulations.
Like most parks in this part of the world, Horrocks Beach houses a number of semi-permanent cabins as well as tourist sites.
Some cabins provide modest accommodation with owners who have an obvious sense of humour
whilst others have created their own 'Taj Mahals'. This one, tantalizing located at the end of our street, was complete with a large boat and 4WD which remain on site. I must confess to serious pangs of envy when eyeing off 'Big Boy's' set up.
But what about the 'world's best fish and chips' as advocated by our Moora friend? After all the excitement of our arrival, we had decided that a visit to the General Store and an evening meal cooked by someone else was just the shot. Another disappointment on the road. Passable fish in acceptable batter, tasty salt and pepper squid pieces, but woeful chips.
The Horrocks Beach general store is on the market, and it shows. How the owner can expect to attract a buyer, let alone realise a good price, when he has allowed the exterior to deteriorate as it has and oversees a store in which the stock depletion has reached the point of being a joke, is beyond me. When all this is compounded by a staff of dubious humour and appearance, it is far from a good look and does nothing at all to promote the town.
We are nothing if not quick learners. Let's make up for this culinary disappointment with a meal of substance tomorrow night...a fine roasted leg of lamb with all the trimmings. Vote taken, approval unanimous .
Up went our bed, out came the Baby Q, and on went the joint to crackle, sizzle and smoke with delicious promise
whilst we blunted our impatience with a few happy hour aperitifs
and a yarn or two, when the truth is completely optional as long as the tales are entertaining.
Finally, finally, after the allotted 30 minutes per 500 grammes and a confirmatory prod with my trusty meat thermometer, the lamb and roast veggies were plated, a McLaren Vale D'Arenberg Footbolt shiraz (which Liz had uncovered at Dongera at a commendably reasonable price) made its way into our best wine glasses, and all was well at site 27, Horrocks Beach (for some considerable hours!)
Next, we explore Horrocks Beach township, the nearby Bowes River mouth and the camp of the notorious Coffin Cheaters bikie gang, and try our hands with the fishing rods.
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