Hello from the serene Chaelundi Campground in the Guy Fawkes National Park
Where we are halfway through a week-long stay.

There’s plenty of wildlife keeping us company, and just a couple of humans to share it with. It’s a perfect location to wind down after the hectic spurt we had after purchasing a second hand campervan, and then doing all those things to make it our new travelling home.

The journey of finding a suitable van was rather trying. Inspections, both inside and out, and under them gave us quite a lot to think over. Then a van came on the market, located just up the hill from us. And wow! A one-owner, fifteen years old, in perfect nick, perfect size, and on the money we wanted to invest.

Once we had her to our liking, a run of beautiful weather came over the horizon, so off we went for a trial spin.
Straightaway, a steep learning curve. Towing a load considerably wider than our Suzuki has taken considerable attention. Plus, of course, braking a 1500 kg load must be kept foremost on our minds. DD, short for Doris Double, has electric brakes, so we had to install a controller to link them up with the Suzuki, and it all seems to work just fine.

DD is what is called the Outback Model of Jayco’s Penguin series. She has a wind up/wind down roof, a full size double bed, four burner stove and grill, carries 90 litres of water to a SS sink with a drainer via hand and electric pump. Plus a rather comfy settee. No beds to push out. Wind her up, jump in, go to bed. Easy.

Okay, Jude’s enjoying her new home away from home. We’ve taken several walks into the hinterland. Yesterday, a 5 km roundtrip walk to a famous lookout called Lucifer’s Thumb. It brought back heaps of memories of the 90s and early 2000s when Judith and I tramped this river valley, from one end to the other, several times over the decade. In those years we explored the rivers and tributaries, carrying all our gear on our backs for our usual 10 day to two weeks lost in the wilderness along the Guy Fawkes River.
Glad we did those things then, cause we surely can’t now…. 🙂

Walk along Lucifer’s Thumb

Jude here –
Health-wise we’re doing all right. Losing muscle weight is making us more careful how we go about doing things. Jack’s a bit of a bonehead. He ruptured his rotator cuff shoulder muscle again last June. Camping in our two-person tent, getting up to wee, pushing off the ground, twisting to get out, ruptured a second muscle off the shoulder blade. The first one got ripped off in 2013. But it came good with excercise. But of course, he forgot about doing them and went back to thinking he was a he-man. Hence the campervan….

Reminiscing in the sunshine after a tiring day

GIANT CUTTLFISH WIPED-OUT ~

The South Australian government has released this year’s giant cuttlefish count from the Spencer Gulf.

The count shows an almost 100 per cent decline from the 63,000 cuttlefish counted last year.

What’s next?

There are calls for the giant cuttlefish to be listed as an endangered species.
Last year the department counted 63,000 cuttlefish in the Spencer Gulf waters. This year 1,811 were recorded.

Professor Mike Steer, executive director of the South Australian Research and Development Institute said:
“The giant cuttlefish population has been depleted and has likely been impacted by the algal bloom.”

The annual gathering near Whyalla is one of the only known mass-breeding aggregations of its kind.
“It’s the only place where our giant cuttlefish come for breeding,” SA Climate, Environment and Water Minister Emily Bourke said.

Jack and Jude witnessed them breeding
We witnessed their breeding first hand, hookah diving amongst these unqiue creatures, and are deeply affected to hear another of Earth’s magnificent creatures is on the brink of extistion.

The future of the giant cuttlefish –

Adult giant cuttlefish die shortly after spawning, leaving the next generation reliant on that single winter event.

“Normally when there’s tens of thousands of cuttlefish and each female is laying dozens of eggs, you would expect there to be millions along the coastline. But, along that 8 kilometres of coastline we only found 440 eggs,” Manny Katz said.

https://www.abc.net.au/news/2026-08-21/giant-cuttlefish-sa-spencer-gulf-pirsa-count-decline/107062048

Sir Anthony Hopkins explores memories and mortality

Sir Anthony Hopkins is one of the most recognised and celebrated actors in Hollywood.

From the chilling Hannibal Lecter in The Silence of the Lambs, to the reserved butler Mr Stevens in The Remains of the Day and the deeply moving Anthony in The Father, the Welsh actor is renowned for his magnetic screen presence and emotional depth.

Anthony Hopkins on composing at 88

Anthony Hopkins seen through a window, hands raised above head, with soft reflections and muted blue tones.

At 88, Hopkins is releasing a new album following his signing with Decca Classics, one of the world’s most prestigious classical music labels.

Titled: Life Is a Dream, the album showcases orchestral compositions Hopkins has written over the past six decades.

I think we tend to lie to ourselves, thinking ‘Oh, I can’t do that.
But how do you know until you try? So that’s what I do.

I think music reflects pain and sorrow. Arthur Schopenhauer said that music transcends all human experience. It’s not a language we understand. It has nothing to do with human behaviour or human speech, but it has an extraordinary way of expressing ourselves.
But in my own life, I’m now aware, that life is one long, long goodbye.

From the moment we’re born, we say goodbye to childhood, we say goodbye to adolescence, and eventually we say goodbye altogether.
At the end of it all is hello, my love, and goodbye, my love.
And that’s the theme of life, that nothing is permanent.

It doesn’t make one miserable. In fact, it’s a kind of solace because there’s nothing I can do about it.
I’m here. And one day I will not be here.

OUR NEXT BOOK

Jack and Judith at 23 years

Snippets:
Lake Nakuru, Kenya –
Late that day, emotionally and physically exhausted, we came into the small town of Nakuru. At the town’s entrance stood a sign proudly declaring Nakuru as the home of the recently declared Nakuru National Park—our intended camp for the night.

There we met Tommy, a pitifully dressed fellow, who beamed with delight at having a bit of company. Hearing we were his first visitors in over two weeks, Judith invited him to dinner. His brilliant white smile against his ebony-black skin delighted us. Even better, he offered to drive us around to see the birds, which he said were most active at dawn and dusk.

Tommy proved to be an expert. He knew a great deal about the birds and other wildlife at Lake Nakuru. He began by explaining that it was one of several soda lakes scattered along the Great Rift Valley, a volcanic landscape of steep escarpments, hot springs and geysers.

Then the magic happened. As we rounded the last bend, the most astonishing sight any of us had ever witnessed came into view. Pink flamingos seemed to cover the lake’s entire surface, shifting and shimmering in a vast, living sheet of colour.

Serengeti, Tanzania:
The silver glow of the moon began to brighten the eastern horizon just as the setting sun radiated brilliant hues of red and gold across the western sky. Standing under that magnificent African sky, filled with hope for the future, I wrapped my arms around my sweetheart. Drawing her in close, I breathed in her familiar scent and leaned down to whisper, “Let’s be super quiet in our tent tonight,” before giving her earlobe a playful nip. Judith giggled and spun around in my embrace, and we sealed the promise with a passionate, wet kiss that made me wish the night would hurry up and arrive.

Lost in visions of passion and sweet caresses, an almighty roar shattered the twilight from the pool right behind us. Before we could even break apart, another booming bark of fury answered the first. We spun around to see two colossal hippos standing toe-to-toe, facing off. Both had their jaws unhinged so wide their faces appeared almost flat, displaying their massive top and bottom tusks. Armed with these lethal weapons, they lunged to bite each other—pushing, slashing, and throwing up violent waves on what had just been our romantic, placid pool. They were like two schoolyard bullies in a contest of pure might, creating such a terrifying racket that we instinctively stepped back from the water’s edge, fearing for our safety…