I left Victoria today. A grand new adventure is beginning in Tasmania.
Eyes open at 4.30am, struggling to stay awake, knowing that soon the air raid siren of the alarm will sound, heralding the end of an era. Crawling out of bed now, fumbling for clothes or some semblance of warmth.
Checking the trailer, making sure the birds are secure, and we’re off into the cold darkness. Minimal traffic as we begin, but soon enough we catch up with the city dwellers, traversing the westgate bridge without looking down.
Arriving in Port Melbourne, already there is a seemingly endless procession of mobile grey nomads boarding this red behemoth. At every turn, or stop, or checkpoint, someone is there, guiding and smiling, outstanding service.
We reluctantly park our pets and venture off in search of breakfast. Coffee and a croissant, this will do nicely.
Engines are warming up, not long now. I’m a little nervous, but the excitement of this grand adventure is overwriting any perceived fears. One last look at Melbourne. One final glance at Victoria.
Nerves finally kick in and i sleep the morning away, the first grumblings of hunger rowsing me hours later. Pizza and panini for lunch, live music playing in the lounge. This is nicer than many pubs I’ve been in.
4pm. Just two more hours and we’ll be arriving. It feels like the blink of an eye, then it’s 5pm, then 6, and here we are, arriving home.