"I am so sick of bloody grey nomads..."

They're all having a great time. The men are all standing around in loose packs, with guts like bowling balls and legs like skittles, talking about tyres and awnings. The women sit in the darkness of their striped canvas annex leaving to visit the laundry or to carry a chair over to a neighbours van for a chat and a laugh. There's plenty of laughter. Meawhile, we huddle under our shelter, beseeching the kids to run off, to explore the park and discover other children who aren't there. It feels like we are the only family doing this (Linton's being the exception to the rule again).

It's a real shame. We'd hoped to meet other familys. We'd expected we would. Tanya told us that the kids would hate the campsites we loved, and we'd hate the ones they loved. She's right, but we're strating to side with them. The cheaper sites in National Parks or on the side of the road help our budget, but they're not kid friendly. We have felt like intruders as we pull up in Kimmy, and the brood spills out of the Disco to a waft of screamed instructions. Creased faces peer out from well established compounds with satellite dishes, solar panels and water filters. We say hello as we walk past and they ask us what are we doing about the kids education.

It's not like they're bad people. They're not rude or nasty. Rex came over for a chat last night. Ex-Vietnam vet, comb in the back pocket of his stubbies, a replanted thumb, and a booming rough voice. The kids laughed as he talked about Tit Hill at Puckapunul, then took him some damper. Rex and all his mates loved that. The kids loved that too and promised they'd make more for next time. The only issue is that there will be a next time. It won't be Rex, but it will be Don, or Mack, or Rose. All good people who only wish us the best, but all of them over 65 and no good on the monkeybars.

The solution I think, is not to hide. We have been guilty lately of sticking our heads down, and not walking over to say g'day. Wandering around a campsite is almost expected but it's been ages since Sara and I did that. Sticky beaking into other peoples sites and setups. The whole "we're all in this together" thing. We'll stay in parks we think will give us the best chance of meeting other families, but we'll make more of an effort to meet the greyies. Remember, Tattoo Dude is a grey nomad too!

Munglinup sunset

We left Esperance without seeing Tattoo Dude to say goodbye, and stopped at Munglinup which is a beautiful little beach with a big lagoon perfect for snorkelling. If I was a spear fisherman we would have eaten like kings. There's something different though about shooting a living thing as opposed to hooking it. I also don't like the idea of swimming in sharky waters leaving a trail of fish blood behind me. Two days were enough, and we moved to Bremmer Bay. The kids have caught 89 fish, none of them keepers, but they have had so much fun. We've had fires at night cooking damper on sticks and then distributing it to the grey nomads who are very appreciative. Surf has been small, but I'm getting that left leg through automatically now.

Bremmer Bay site and campfire

Next stop is the Stirling Ranges. We'd hoped to do an overnight hike, but there isn't one which we found surprising. So we'll spill out of Kimmy and climb Bluff Knoll. Rex won't be there, he climbed Tit Hill so many times he's been put off mountains. Someone else will be though so I'll send Ned over to find out where to fish. Oli can find out what bait to use. Ivy will launch a chat and charm offensive with her camel speil, and Sara can ask about other campsites over the washing. I'll head over later on that evening for a beer and a slice of pizza cooked on the baby webberQ. Just another day in Paradise.

H

Ivy, still not having any fun