Making the move

Moving from a house in Margaret River onto a catamaran in Mooloolaba was an epic undertaking!  We tend to collect a lot of stuff, and I felt like I’d spent months sorting and chucking and packing. We decided to store most of our household goods in Margs, but wanted to take some things over so we could access them from the boat.

While we were in the middle of all this, a good friend of ours arrived in Margs. What a complete Godsend he was. In fact, I’ve never met a more selfless person. He offered to help us with the move – and spent days lifting, carrying and packing.

The quotes we received for moving a small load over to the east coast were crazy, so Marco and Paul decided to drive across. This is no small feat – almost 5,000kms across this vast continent, thousands of kms of semi-desert dodging kangaroos and truck-trains, and potentially looming costs of towing/repairs if something goes wrong. It took days to pack the trailer, and was rather like real-life Lego – amazing how the “small” load grew. Eventually they were ready – and set off for the Nullarbor and beyond.


Their journey progressed well, until they were 400kms away from their destination. The bumpy roads and heavy load took it’s toll, and the trailer’s suspension eventually broke (late on a Friday afternoon, 100kms from Toowoomba). Marco was taken aback at the number of people that stopped to offer help – one of whom had a friend in the towing business. He came out with his big truck late that night to transport them to Toowoomba, and for a reasonable price too. The trailer was locked up in a warehouse in a dodgy part of town, and Marco and Paul decided to sleep in the car outside the warehouse – to keep an eye on the trailer during the night.

What could have been a peaceful night’s sleep turned into a 2-hour interrogation by the police, who were convinced they were the culprits of a recent crime / drug incident in the area. After asking numerous questions (intended to trick them into contradicting themselves), searching them, and making corroborating phone calls, they eventually realised that these were in fact 2 blokes driving across Australia, just doing what they said they’re doing.

The trailer was fixed the next day, what a blessing – and the tired, hassled, unwashed “blokes” finally arrived in Queensland, still smiling.

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Meanwhile, the boys and I finished cleaning the house – which is a huge job in Australia. At cleaner-rates of $40 per hour, you try and do a lot of it yourself, but the rental agencies are super-meticulous and every little mark, mould-spore and grain of sand has to be removed to get your deposit back. I never EVER want to rent again!

We caught the 7am bus to Perth, and then flew across to Brisbane aboard the “Margaret River” Airbus A330. There was an initial panic – “Mommy, there are no TV-screens!”, but fortunately the airline had individual iPads in the seat pockets, so the drama was short-lived. Amazing how these iPads are returned after each flight – so weird for a South African to see!

We finally trudged wearily into my mom’s apartment at 2am. So wonderful to be welcomed by family, to wake up to tea in bed and have some time to relax and rejuvenate before the next big step – moving onto the Ark.

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