The Great Ocean Roadtrip! Part Deux

Still not 12 of them!

by Alex in Australia, In Transit

As much as I love setting out on a road trip at the crack of dawn, sooner or later the early start catches up with you. And if, like Tash, you only managed to get about 3 hours of sleep the night before, "sooner" can come pretty quickly. We walked back into the carpark of the 12 Apostles, Tash's eyelids started drooping, her words slowly transforming into low mumbles, and suddenly standing upright seemed a lot more optional than most of us would consider it. This posed a bit of a problem, because it was supposed to be Tash's turn to drive. Of course, being the loving, caring, dedicated husband that I am, I offered to take over driving duties for a few hours so she could nap in the passenger's seat. Tash was completely okay with that. At least I assume she was. When a question is answered with a quiet snore and an inaudible mumble, you sort of have to read between the lines.

At first, everything was great. The sun was shining, I was wide awake, and there's nothing more adorable than hearing a sleeping person try to sing along with music they can only half-consciously hear. We made great time heading away from the Apostles, passing through small, dot-on-the-map towns without any kind of trouble. I was appreciating the chance to spend some time thinking, even with the music turned down so Tash could sleep. Everything was brilliant...awesome even. Unfortunately, it couldn't last.


After around an hour of driving with no one to talk to, no real change in scenery and not being able to rock out, boredom started to set in. And as the ambiguously-copyrighted saying goes: "Boredom leads to restlessness. Restlessness leads to exhaustion. Exhaustion leads to fatigue." Fatigue that may have taken a few slaps to the face and a quickly-gulped mostly warm Red Bull, but even that wasn't enough to stop the car starting to drifting towards the line seperating us from either the scenic (but boring) bush or oncoming traffic.

So, after our third potentially near-death experience (which I don't think I actually told Tash about - I guess she'll find out when she reads this!), I decided it was time to take executive action and pulled into a McDonalds for a quick nap. Because there's nothing classier than two people sleeping in their car in a fast food parking lot! An hour or so later, we both shot awake revitalized and ready for anything, like Popeye with a belly full of spinach.

Mount Gambier, as a town, is pretty similar to a lot of Australian country towns. I feel like now should be the point where I give you some basic information about the town, like how big it is, its population and some of its significant local history. The problem is, I don't know any of that, I find it boring to write about and I'm pretty sure you find it boring to read. If you're really dying for that sort of thing, here's a link to Mt Gambier's Wikipedia entry. You're welcome. 

Rather than any interest in the local history or geography or anything else, there were two main reasons we wanted to spend the night in Mt Gambier rather than anywhere else. Firstly, it's officially across the border in South Australia - where Tash and I had never been, and secondly, the old town gaol has recently been re-purposed as a backpackers hostel. Let me say that again. Mt Gambier has a hostel that used to be a gaol.

Quick side note: To our international (particularly American) audience, "gaol" is the Australian spelling of the word "jail". Same thing, same pronunciation, different spelling. Same as "thongs" means "flip flops". That'll be relevant soon.

Staying at the Old Mount Gambier Gaol (less imaginative than "The 12 Apostles", but at least it's accurate!) was Tash and my first real hostel experience. Admittedly, we stayed in a private room (cell...room..dont know where the line falls here) and everyone spoke the local language, but I still found it great to get my first glimpse of how we're going to spend most nights while we're overseas. The hostel itself is great, if a little on the spartan side - but it's clean, there's free wi-fi and a well-equipped kitchen, and there are little placards all over the walls with historical tidbits about the gaol and the prisoners who lived there.

Another Hostel first for me that was particularly alarming was my first time using a hostel shower. Having to wear thongs into the shower didn't bother me so much - I haven't done it before, but I do understand the basic principles of hygiene and, y'know, not getting gross foot diseases. No, what bothered me was the fact that there was an unknown person showering next to me. For some people, I'm sure this is fine, but for me? Uh-uh. I like my showers long, hot and, most importantly, private. I know full well that they're all things I'm going to have to give up very soon, but that doesn't mean I'm going to let them go happily.

What happened after the gaol-hostel? What's the story of the photos on our Flickr page? Wasn't this supposed to be the finale of the Great Ocean Roadtrip?? Find out the answers to these and more questions...

Next time!
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