janky adj. characterized by poor quality or a state of disrepair due to old age or heavy use; having questionable safety or reliability; sketchy. (see: Urban Dictionary)
If I were to choose one word to describe my road trip from Cairns to Sydney with Ben, it has to be "janky." Over the course of our six-day, 3000 kilometer journey, it came to be not just an accurate description of our rental vehicle and the circumstances through which we put it, but eventually also a term of endearment reflecting the special bond we had formed between ourselves, the campervan, and the breathtaking stretch of earth that is the east coast of Australia. Our road trip was a seat-of-the-pants adventure. It was a learning experience. It was exhausting. Most of all, it was a hell of a lot of fun.
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| Just a few of the stops on our 3000 km journey. (That's about 1800 miles for you imperialists.) |
I must apologize at the outset that it has been almost two weeks since the road trip, and I was sometimes too busy enjoying myself to remember to record what was going on, so there are certainly holes in this account. It is likely some events are told out of order. Some place names might be interchanged or incorrect altogether. But really, who cares? Just enjoy.
DAY 1: 12 April
We woke up at 8 in our nicely air conditioned room Corona Backpackers from a much-needed night of rest after a rowdy night and an exhausting dive trip. I still felt like I was on a boat because whenever I closed my eyes it felt like the floor was rocking. (The ProDive crew said that feeling could last a couple days.)
We walked to the Travelers Auto Barn rental facility on the outskirts of town to pick up our campervan, the soon-to-be christened "jank-mobile." The rental facility itself should have been our first clue as to what this whole car experience would be like: faded sign, gravel parking lot surrounded by a chain-link fence, and a dimly lit reception area. We signed our lives away for the campervan and did the "walk around" so we could prove that all the broken things were in that condition before we started (definitely a necessary step). It was pouring outside, so they pulled the camper into the garage for us to look at. That weather would become thematic. After all the forms were signed, we were on our way.
The very first goal I had set for myself before the trip was not to stall the camper on the way out of the parking lot. I got into the right seat (weird), started it up, pressed in the clutch (with my left foot, per usual) and put it in first (with my left hand, not per usual). Feeling the pressure of Ben's video camera, I thought I would just ride the clutch--better to sound like a food than stall and look like one. But I quickly got the hang of it and turned smoothly onto the road. (As it turns out, I had nothing to worry about and I'm actually a fine standard-shift driver. In fact, over the course of 3000-miles I only stalled twice, and those were fluke hill starts.) I WAS DRIVING ON THE LEFT!!! Surprisingly, that wasn't as weird as I was expecting; it had been so long since I'd driven in the States and I'd been used to Australian traffic for some time, so the left felt rather natural. Between me and Ben there were two or three early morning and late night wrong-siders, but in general having the drivers seat on the right makes it pretty obvious that you're supposed to be on the left of the line. What does make it a bit complicated is that the centerline in Australia is painted white. You can tell it's the center divider because it has longer lines, but sometimes I wasn't 100% sure I was on the correct side of the road, which was scary because I knew for a fact a head-on accident in that car would not be pretty.
So a little bit about the "jank-mobile." This is a mid-2000s Mitsubishi van. Instead of seats or toolboxes in the back, theres a big padded bed-like thing with storage cubbies underneath for sleeping bags and chairs and such, and the trunk has a kitchen counter shoved into it, complete with sink, propane stove, esky (a.k.a. cooler), etc. It had a sweet graphic of a surfer tattooed on the side with all sorts of random words and phrases. All this was good and fine, but it's downhill from there. The drivers side door did not seal properly, so the cabin sounded like a wind tunnel at highway speeds. There were no airbags; just a little pillow in the middle of the steering wheel that doubled as a horn so that in an accident the force of your skull smashing into it would alert everyone around as to how silly you were for driving around in the 21st century in a car with no safety features. It's kind of nice to know that the 1973 Volkswagen Beetle I will inherit after graduation is just as technologically advanced. And it made the '06 Corolla, my beloved red steed of my high school years, look like a Rolls Royce. No ABS. The tires were going bald, and despite having the engine under the seats (I never thought this would be my first ever mid-engine car), the weight distribution was all off so that you risked skidding with every start or turn, especially in the rain. The steering had a lot of play, and the rack was not very precise. The seating position is forward of the front wheels, so now I have a small sense of how Asher felt driving busses. The roof felt like a tin can, which was scary because the whole thing was likely to flip over at any point. The speedometer was fast by about 10%, which made it very hard to know how fast we were going. There was no windshield washer fluid. The side slider and rear gate locked electronically, but the front doors were manual (what's the point). And best of all, water would leak from somewhere in the dashboard into the passenger footwell, but only when you turned right. It would be downright illegal to rent a vehicle like this in the US. But despite this long list of flaws, there was one thing our "jank-mobile" had in abundance: charm. And charm goes a long way when you're driving 3000 kilometers down the Australian coast with a friend you've known practically your whole life.
Anyway, we plugged our destination into the GPS and we were off. My first impressions of the road trip were the same ones I've been having for three months now: this place is beautiful. North Queensland is full of lush green rainforest mountains. The roads are flanked on both sides by prairies and sugar cane fields. Breathtaking views abound. It was a shame I had to look at the road once in a while, because I would much rather have stared at the scenery the whole time.
The van did have an iPod jack, but my iPod ran out of battery just minutes into the trip. So we spent most of the time listening to whatever would come through clearly. Often there was not much choice, but occasionally the most random stretches of boonies countryside would have some really good music. Ben and I have slightly different taste, but we did find some stuff we both liked. Whenever a club or techno song would come on, we would dance and bob our heads like fools while singing "disco! disco!" like Adam Sandler does in "You Don't Mess with the Zohan," which we had watched a few nights before on the boat.
Our first stop was, like almost all of them, impromptu. We saw a sign for "the giant mango," and decided that was a necessary sight to see. Surely enough, in some random diner parking lot about a hundred kilometers south of Cairns, there was a giant fiberglass mango. We snapped a quick pic of this decidedly random attraction and carried on.
After a couple hours of driving, we stopped to eat. Because it was drizzling, we decided to try and eat inside the van. One of the panels that makes up the bed actually turns into a table, supported by a pole that sits in a plate in the floor. We set that contraption up, but apparently it was designed by a monkey because the screws holding the plate into the floor were smaller than the holes they went into, so the whole thing flopped around. After getting yogurt and matzo in our laps twice, we decided that would be the last time we used that table. Already we were amused by the jankyness.
After we ate, I decided Ben should drive so we could get the stick shift learning/practice session out of the way. We drove in circles around a small neighborhood; Ben practiced a lot of starting and stopping and shifting and such. It was not the smoothest ride I've ever had, as you might imagine, and Ben got frustrated whenever he stalled or missed a shift, but he really did remarkably well. I think he was just over-thinking the whole process. I really must commend him, because he made drastic improvement throughout the trip. In fact, he was much better than I was when I first learned. Anyways, once I felt like I was going to throw up, I decided it was time for him to drive on the real roads, in real traffic, because I thought that might help him take his mind off the shifting. Plus, we needed to get going. Ben did some more practice at other points throughout the trip--hill starts on a parking garage ramp, for example--and with a little coaching from me he became quite smooth. Needless to say, he did really well and we continued southward.
The next stop, again inspired by a roadside sign, was to Murray Falls, a gorgeous waterfall that we accessed via a campsite at the end of a partially paved twisty road. On our first attempt to walk down the short boardwalk to the lookout, Ben and I both got bitten by some sort of wasp or bug or something. I only got it once, but it went to town on Ben's neck and he had a bunch of red marks for a day or two. Just my single bite/sting was really painful, so I really felt bad for Ben. Anyway, after running screaming like little girls, we regathered our dignity and courage and walked to the lookout without incident. It was definitely worth the insect attack. I don't know what it is about Australia, but it feels like you can't go ten feet without running into an amazing waterfall!
We walked to the Travelers Auto Barn rental facility on the outskirts of town to pick up our campervan, the soon-to-be christened "jank-mobile." The rental facility itself should have been our first clue as to what this whole car experience would be like: faded sign, gravel parking lot surrounded by a chain-link fence, and a dimly lit reception area. We signed our lives away for the campervan and did the "walk around" so we could prove that all the broken things were in that condition before we started (definitely a necessary step). It was pouring outside, so they pulled the camper into the garage for us to look at. That weather would become thematic. After all the forms were signed, we were on our way.
The very first goal I had set for myself before the trip was not to stall the camper on the way out of the parking lot. I got into the right seat (weird), started it up, pressed in the clutch (with my left foot, per usual) and put it in first (with my left hand, not per usual). Feeling the pressure of Ben's video camera, I thought I would just ride the clutch--better to sound like a food than stall and look like one. But I quickly got the hang of it and turned smoothly onto the road. (As it turns out, I had nothing to worry about and I'm actually a fine standard-shift driver. In fact, over the course of 3000-miles I only stalled twice, and those were fluke hill starts.) I WAS DRIVING ON THE LEFT!!! Surprisingly, that wasn't as weird as I was expecting; it had been so long since I'd driven in the States and I'd been used to Australian traffic for some time, so the left felt rather natural. Between me and Ben there were two or three early morning and late night wrong-siders, but in general having the drivers seat on the right makes it pretty obvious that you're supposed to be on the left of the line. What does make it a bit complicated is that the centerline in Australia is painted white. You can tell it's the center divider because it has longer lines, but sometimes I wasn't 100% sure I was on the correct side of the road, which was scary because I knew for a fact a head-on accident in that car would not be pretty.
So a little bit about the "jank-mobile." This is a mid-2000s Mitsubishi van. Instead of seats or toolboxes in the back, theres a big padded bed-like thing with storage cubbies underneath for sleeping bags and chairs and such, and the trunk has a kitchen counter shoved into it, complete with sink, propane stove, esky (a.k.a. cooler), etc. It had a sweet graphic of a surfer tattooed on the side with all sorts of random words and phrases. All this was good and fine, but it's downhill from there. The drivers side door did not seal properly, so the cabin sounded like a wind tunnel at highway speeds. There were no airbags; just a little pillow in the middle of the steering wheel that doubled as a horn so that in an accident the force of your skull smashing into it would alert everyone around as to how silly you were for driving around in the 21st century in a car with no safety features. It's kind of nice to know that the 1973 Volkswagen Beetle I will inherit after graduation is just as technologically advanced. And it made the '06 Corolla, my beloved red steed of my high school years, look like a Rolls Royce. No ABS. The tires were going bald, and despite having the engine under the seats (I never thought this would be my first ever mid-engine car), the weight distribution was all off so that you risked skidding with every start or turn, especially in the rain. The steering had a lot of play, and the rack was not very precise. The seating position is forward of the front wheels, so now I have a small sense of how Asher felt driving busses. The roof felt like a tin can, which was scary because the whole thing was likely to flip over at any point. The speedometer was fast by about 10%, which made it very hard to know how fast we were going. There was no windshield washer fluid. The side slider and rear gate locked electronically, but the front doors were manual (what's the point). And best of all, water would leak from somewhere in the dashboard into the passenger footwell, but only when you turned right. It would be downright illegal to rent a vehicle like this in the US. But despite this long list of flaws, there was one thing our "jank-mobile" had in abundance: charm. And charm goes a long way when you're driving 3000 kilometers down the Australian coast with a friend you've known practically your whole life.
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| The "jank-mobile," our trusty and ridiculous companion. |
The van did have an iPod jack, but my iPod ran out of battery just minutes into the trip. So we spent most of the time listening to whatever would come through clearly. Often there was not much choice, but occasionally the most random stretches of boonies countryside would have some really good music. Ben and I have slightly different taste, but we did find some stuff we both liked. Whenever a club or techno song would come on, we would dance and bob our heads like fools while singing "disco! disco!" like Adam Sandler does in "You Don't Mess with the Zohan," which we had watched a few nights before on the boat.
Our first stop was, like almost all of them, impromptu. We saw a sign for "the giant mango," and decided that was a necessary sight to see. Surely enough, in some random diner parking lot about a hundred kilometers south of Cairns, there was a giant fiberglass mango. We snapped a quick pic of this decidedly random attraction and carried on.
After a couple hours of driving, we stopped to eat. Because it was drizzling, we decided to try and eat inside the van. One of the panels that makes up the bed actually turns into a table, supported by a pole that sits in a plate in the floor. We set that contraption up, but apparently it was designed by a monkey because the screws holding the plate into the floor were smaller than the holes they went into, so the whole thing flopped around. After getting yogurt and matzo in our laps twice, we decided that would be the last time we used that table. Already we were amused by the jankyness.
After we ate, I decided Ben should drive so we could get the stick shift learning/practice session out of the way. We drove in circles around a small neighborhood; Ben practiced a lot of starting and stopping and shifting and such. It was not the smoothest ride I've ever had, as you might imagine, and Ben got frustrated whenever he stalled or missed a shift, but he really did remarkably well. I think he was just over-thinking the whole process. I really must commend him, because he made drastic improvement throughout the trip. In fact, he was much better than I was when I first learned. Anyways, once I felt like I was going to throw up, I decided it was time for him to drive on the real roads, in real traffic, because I thought that might help him take his mind off the shifting. Plus, we needed to get going. Ben did some more practice at other points throughout the trip--hill starts on a parking garage ramp, for example--and with a little coaching from me he became quite smooth. Needless to say, he did really well and we continued southward.
The next stop, again inspired by a roadside sign, was to Murray Falls, a gorgeous waterfall that we accessed via a campsite at the end of a partially paved twisty road. On our first attempt to walk down the short boardwalk to the lookout, Ben and I both got bitten by some sort of wasp or bug or something. I only got it once, but it went to town on Ben's neck and he had a bunch of red marks for a day or two. Just my single bite/sting was really painful, so I really felt bad for Ben. Anyway, after running screaming like little girls, we regathered our dignity and courage and walked to the lookout without incident. It was definitely worth the insect attack. I don't know what it is about Australia, but it feels like you can't go ten feet without running into an amazing waterfall!
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| Murray Falls |
I drove the next leg because I wanted a turn driving the jank-mobile on the twisty dirt road (looks more fun than it is). I looked down at the dashboard, and the engine light was on. Shit. Did I mention our rental agreement specifically says not to drive on dirt roads? The mechanic in me knew that shouldn't have anything to do with the engine light, but I was still a bit worried. The temperature was fine, so I knew the car was okay to drive, so we decided to keep trucking and deal with the light once we stopped for the night. The roadside assistance guy would later give us the all-systems-go (even though he couldn't scan the code), and the rental maintenance person didn't return our multiple phone calls, so we just ignored the light for the rest of the trip as it went on and off at various points. We would later find out that the light was from the fuel sensor that wasn't used to the high ethanol content of the petrol we were putting in, but it wasn't bad for the vehicle in any way.
Speaking of fuel in the van, one of the more memorable events of the trip happened right after a fuel stop. Since the van was rather thirsty (approx. 18 mpg) and had a fuel tank the size of a pea, we had to stop for gas pretty often. During one of the stops, I went to get some food from the trunk while Ben was paying inside. Then, a few kilometers down the road, someone passed us and started frantically honking and pointing at us. I pulled over and Ben got out to see what was up. Turns out I'm a dumbass, and I had forgotten to close the tailgate, so we had been driving 100 kph with the back of the car fully open! Miraculously, not a single thing fell out, but I definitely learned my lesson. From then on I double checked the doors every time we left somewhere.
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| A beach we stopped at a few kilometers before the infamous tailgate incident. |
We cooked dinner at a park/beach called the "Strand" in Townsville, which is one of the larger towns (they might even call it a city) in North Queensland. We didn't really have time to tour around Townsville because we were behind schedule in terms of distance covered, so we drove another hour or two south.
The majority of our journey through Queensland was on the A1 (a.k.a. the National Highway or Bruce Highway). Apparently its long stretches of undeveloped land are conducive to tired drivers falling asleep. There are signs everywhere encouraging you to stop and rest, often suggesting imminent death otherwise. One area even had trivia questions on the signs to keep everyone awake and engaged. One great thing they have is called a "Driver Reviver;" it's basically a small rest area with a volunteer giving out free coffee and snacks. Even though I don't drink coffee, I still thought this was a really cool idea and the volunteers were always really nice.
We spent our first night at one of these Driver Reviver rest stops. There was no coffee at this one, but there was a bathroom and a field where people were camping. We were not the only campervans there; in fact a nice little community of travelers seemed to have formed there. Ben set the cushions straight on the "bed" in the back while I sorted out the sleeping bags and pillows (I don't want to know the last time they were washed). We attempted to watch an episode of Top Gear, but we were both exhausted and fell asleep really quickly. The bed in this van is definitely not the most comfortable thing I've ever slept on, but it was adequate for such tired travelers as ourselves. Like everything else in the jank-mobile, we would come to really appreciate it.
Sounds like you had one amazing trip. And yes, road trips can be exhausting but there is always fun in it. Whenever we hit the road with a campervan, we always had tons of fun. Of course, there are mishaps but it is worth it. - Katelyn
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