Grey Nomad Dreaming

Shells from 80 Mile

It's been a while since I had a decent crack at the Greyies, but I'm afraid the time has come again. Whilst the lesson I learned from Rex at Bremmer Bay still holds, everyman surely has his limit when confronted on a daily basis by petty squabbles initiated by hunched over, leathered prunes whose mouths are pursed by years of sucking on lemons as they gossip in gaggles of pastel sun half-hats and spotless white golf shirts. And the stretch of land between 80 Mile Beach and Barn Hill is where they all come to die. An elephants graveyard for grey nomads.

As soon as we had checked in, it was as if the Disco had morphed into Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, transporting us to the land of Vulgaria where children were banned. Heads turned as I parked the van, but no help offered, no nods of welcome as our kids poured out. By chance we'd met up with Peter and Jo, and their two girls Summer and Ciara who we'd last seen in Cape Range. Other neighbours made themselves scarce, at least until we got told in no uncertain terms that we were being too loud at 9:45, and that lights out in Barn Hill was 9:00. That probably explained why they all started drinking at 2:00, with dinner at 4:30.

Ned and Zach on the top of Barn Hill

The Lintons showed up and set up camp which for them is a two hour exercise, only to be told that their neighbour had complained they were too close to him, and they were forced to move 1 metre away. No negotiation was entered into, they were told as if they should know. We asked to be able to use a bbq away from our campsite for Oli's birthday in part to placate our neighbour, and were initially told no, it's not the done thing. We asked to use the bowling green for the party, and have been informed that children are not allowed on the green even with strict supervision. We can use the lawn though with it's peaks and valleys, how generous. Just do us a favour Sandra, and put up a sign saying "NO KIDS ALLOWED (exceptions will be made for feral goats)".

Oli hurling one down

Appropriately, it is the kids who have been able to minimise the negativity to some extent. Oli ended up watching the Eagles vs Dockers game with a bunch of them. They now say hi to him, and have helped Matt and Oli with their birdwatching. The Linton's eldest boy Josh loves to fish, and has met some greyies in that hopeless pursuit. Jo's neighbour complimented her on the kids behaviour. At Eighty Mile beach, the kids were given a used fishing rod, and several shell animals. I know that most of them are good people who only wish us the best. What's frustrating is that we exist in parallel universes. We see the same things, we live next door to each other, but unless we converse over issues like water filters and awnings, or what the high in the bight means in terms of wind, we exist only for them to moan about as they position satellite dishes in front of 70's brown Jayco pop ups, and jealously guard their beige, oversized smalls in the washing machines.  

L-R Josh, Zach, Matt, Ned, Ciara, Oli, Ivy, Summer, Abbie

We've loved Barn Hill. It is unspoilt, sunsets are magnificent, the beach is clean with interesting rocks to clamber over. Josh nearly stepped on a deadly sea snake, and Oli is having an unusual birthday. I wish I wasn't feeling so negative and antagonistic to the elder residents of this station turned caravan park but I am, and it is likely I will until I am allowed to return here in twenty years time. In the meantime, I will try eeven harder to say g'day. I will smile, and joke, and help them cross the road safely because it's what Rex would do.

H