The way I heard it, the reason behind the ubiquitous free BBQs throughout Australia is due to hooligans vandalising their coin operated predecessors. That the government did some calculations and figured it would actually cost them less to provide the BBQs for free, than to keep sending repairmen to fix them (in other words: remove all of the foreign objects lodged into the coin slots by said hooligans attempting to BBQ their food at the mere price of game tokens or wood chips or bits of plastic.)
Anyways, there is now a generous smattering of electric BBQs across the country, and Sunita and I have made excellent use of them. It seems like every meal we have is rich with the smokey char of grilled veggies. By now we have arguably mastered most foods on the grill. Fried eggs were problematic at first, but you learn quickly. You can toast bread pretty well in a makeshift oven with those standard metal camping plates. We even finally found that we could simultaneously boil our tea water in a pot in one corner. Thus, BBQs have become an indelible part of our daily map.
We’re pretty fancy with our meals on the road. Breakfast is pretty easy with standard eggs on toast or porridge with an array of toppings. Lunch is often leftovers from the previous night’s dinner. For dinner we get creative. We’ve had curries; gnocchi with pumpkin cream sauce or eggplant, cauliflower and lemon cream; thick, juicy mushroom burgers with local pepper berry cheese and a host of toppings and condiments; Ethiopian style lentils and veggies over cous cous (everything with cous cous because it cooks so quickly); pasta loaded with grilled veggies and a rich nutmeat; burritos with sweet potatoes and black beans, or grilled veggies and – wait for it – cous cous; sloppy BBQ sandwiches; various soups. We’re never bored with our food. But we always have heaps of dishes at the end of the day. And in winter, cold water dish washing is not a pleasant task. I’ve taken to stealing the last dregs of the BBQ’s heat to warm plates of water, so that at least the scrubbing portion is okay. Your hands go numb with the rinsing, but when mouse inhabitants (more on that later) are the alternative to fastidious dish washing, you sacrifice your hands.
The unfortunate combination of cold and a pre-five-o’clock-sunset has led to much extended sleeping hours. Try as I might to keep occupied in the evenings, when I am lying in a warm, cozy bed there is just nothing left but surrender to sleep. The eastern side of the state has proven a more manageable climate. At least my nose doesn’t freeze and I can spend some hours reading and writing in addition to our usual routine of listening to a podcast or audiobook. At Friendly Beaches we stayed out well past the sun. We spent our dinner watching pinks and purples wash across the sky. Then we had several walks in hopes of spotting wildlife. We saw various macropods, a large wombat, a spotted quoll, and a brush tail possum. We were pleased with our platonic hunt. We caught the sunrise, too, in an array of orange and red that faded into a warm teal in tones reminiscent of Miami Vice.
At breakfast we had an insistent wallaby guest who was well curious of our goings on. He munched on ferns and eucalyptus with a flurry of fairy wrens fluttering at his feet. Wallabies seem like the friendliest of the locals in general. We had another instance where a couple joined us during our dinner prep and were most interested in the radio lab episode we were listening to. We both suspected one might grab the speaker in its altogether too-short- for-such-a-task arms and take off with it. But it merely gave the glowing device and inquisitive lick and continued listening with us. The wombats on the other hand appear far speedier in Tasmania, and want nothing to do with us. Unlike the thoroughly apathetic wombats of Victoria. We love them all the same. We’ve sought out several colonies of our old friends, the glow worms. The first was with a proper tour in a gorgeous cave, but the glow worm experience wasn’t very lovely or intimate. We explored another cave on our own, plus an old tunnel, and finally a “grotto” of fern dwelling glow worms. Soft constellations of blue scattered across the Tasmanian darkness. I admit I am as captivated by their brilliant bioluminescence as their unwitting prey. We’ve yet to spot glowing fungi, so-called sea sparkle, or the bewitching Aurora Australis, as I had hoped. But I suppose that is much to ask of one venture. The stars are brilliant here. The bright smear of the milky way adorns the night as though it is commonplace. Shimmering planets making bold appearances as early as 6pm. We feel spoiled on clear nights. I joked about seeing a shooting star as I squatted for a piss outside the van one night, but it was was a commonplace magic. Exquisite events are occurring constantly, and available to be witnessed by those who put themselves in situations to do so. I always wonder why I don’t make sunrises/sunsets a priority when I am viewing one. Cascades pouring water down endless rock faces, thundering, damp lush scents. Ferns and every manner of flora unfurling in forests and jungles in meadows and mountains. Ocean reaching onto the sand and curling ever back into its own mass. Salty. Teals and blues, greens and greys. It is a privilege to bask in this sense soaked island.
to fathom the world 