We're not going to leave you hanging about the rest of South Australia...

(warning: this post is excessively long...oops!...better get the big mug of coffee and wait till the kids are in bed...)

   Well, here we are, world wide web, in the beautiful Johanna Beach free campground (thank you for the recommendation, Mr and Mrs Brauer) in the middle of the Great Ocean Road [updated to Kennett River as battery charge and wireless range both ran out at Johanna Beach...] and as far as you know we are still stuck at our friend's farm near Robe! So some updating is in order...


   ...Our generous friends put us up inside their house (the last picture in our last South Oz post was still at Salt Creek) and as they had four kids close in age to ours the torrential rain which was the edge of the storms causing havoc elsewhere in Australia only had us glad that we were in a house...aah, real coffee...aah, real showers...aah, real room!... (if you deciphered that sentence then accolades to you...)
   
   The kids staged three performances - including a magic show. One of the days we headed out to Kingston to check out the giant Lobster (go Australian high culture!) but mostly we stayed inside chatting, eating chocolate, and working out skype!...

   With the weather clearing, we were keen to head on 

(although rather loathe to leave our friends as we were having 

an awesome time with them - thank you 

Mr and Mrs Parker)... so off to Beachport...

...where we celebrated someone's thirty third birthday 

with a play at the playground...

...and who can argue that our kids are the cutest ever?...

...and then worked Mum and Dad's leg muscles 

with a ride on a bicycle built for six...

...following which Dad took care of the kids so Mum could have 
an afternoon out in Robe...

...and while in Beachport we also found time for a walk to a lighthouse, a scenic drive, a swim or two, and some fishing for Daddy before heading on to Mount Gambier...

...where our wonderful friends and Trinity's godparents Mr and Mrs Horn were so kind to let us stay for eight days while visiting the dentist and doctor, completing errands, starting this blog, and generally having an extremely busy week...

... however, Mr Horn managed to exact revenge by 

putting Nick to work (hard work!) landscaping, roofing, and concreting...

...but this was balanced out by a very social week, 
where we caught up with many friends many times 
(lovely to see you Nan and Pop Wiltshire, 
Grandpa and Grandma Albrecht, 
our great good friends Mr and Mrs Lambert 
(thanks for the singstar memories); 
our new homeschool friends from Langhorne Creek free camp, 
and Nick's chaplain colleague and her husband)...

...when someone turned eight...

...and the whole busy and social week culminated in a gloriously weathered Australia Day breakfast barbie...

(aaaah...{deep breath}...finally finished this post!...see you soon, 

world wide web, for more adventures of the travelling Woodleys...)

We're so glad that the saga of the potty ended well...

(disclaimer: in the following post there may be some potty humour; 

if that's not your cup of tea then run far far away)

   Yes, the potty...that essential of all essentials on a trip with anyone under (possibly even over) the age of five. No need for middle of the night trips half way across the caravan park, or walks to an inadequately lit long drop, or worst of all the dreaded 'bush wee' in the pouring rain!
   
   I know that you males out there are thinking 'what's the problem with all of the above' but females are nodding their heads in agreement and thinking 'that's why we're never travelling around Australia'.
   
   Well, here's the solution...

   Yes, the heirloom potty passed down generations (perhaps just one generation! - thank you Mrs Wong and Mrs Woodley Jnr), and capable of managing all of our childrens' evening, nighttime and morning ablutions if needed...enough singing praises, to the point of this tragic saga...
   
   After a month of trekking to the loos regularly to empty the potty and not leaving it there, I (yes, Renee, you can shoulder the blame when you should) left it at the long drops at the lovely free camp at the Fitzroy River mouth; and only discovered the fact when we had travelled all day and arrived at our new destination of Warrnambool. True, it was only an hour down the road, but what a thing to lose! Surely someone would recognize its immeasurable value and requisition it for their own selfish purposes!
   
   I knew something had to be done, so impressing upon Nick the extreme importance of this article (he was already more than half aware of this) I extracted a promise from him to drive back and search and enquire after it. 
   
   However, first I called the contact number we had for the Fitzroy River reserve, and was connected to the Portland Information centre: 'Oh yes dear, I think the people you want are the cricket club, or maybe it's the footy and netball club - here's the numbers.' So I try the cricket club first: 'Ah the reserve luv, yeah ya gunna want old Ted Taylor' [names changed to protect the innocent]. 
   
   With that number I reach the people who collected our weekly twenty dollar fee. 'Um, we've just been camping at the reserve and left something there (trying to put the invaluableness into my tone of voice)...well, actually, it's an enamelled potty, but we find it so useful, just wondering if it's still there, my husband is willing to drive back down and pick it up' - 'oh no darl, me daughter'll check for it when she goes down tonight and we'll give you a buzz to let you know if it's there. But don't come back for it - we're swinging by Warrnambool on our way to Geelong day after tommorra so can drop it of for you.' !!
   
   Well, suffice it to say, that it was there (woohoo!) and we managed to survive forty eight hours sans potty (which only deepened our appreciation for it all the more after countless trips to the toilet blocks morning, noon and night) before Nick met the reserve managers at KFC. Not knowing what they looked like, he approached a middle aged couple and enquired: 'Um, are you the people I'm supposed to meet?' which met the quite decided reply 'no!' !
   
   Finally, he found the right good samaritans, and after offering to buy them a drink the potty came home to be restored to the bosom of its grateful and relived family...




   P.S. This is the real reason Israel is making good use of the potty; after all don't we all secretly wish that we had pirate undies...

We're catching you up on South Australia...

   Well, it's been a month already with only semi-incoherant ramblings from me to you, world wide web, so I thought I'd better liven things up with some real reporting. The travelling Woodleys have made their way down the south east coast of South Oz...

   

   ...First to a lovely if mosquito ridden free camp at 

Langhorne Creek...

...where we had visits from grandparents and great-uncles...

...and met a travelling-in-a-tent homeschooling family with six kids and one on the way...

(and you think that we're crazy!)

...before heading off for a working farm / 

caravan park at Salt Creek on the Coorong...

...full of winding paths beckoning us onward...

(excuse my poetical tendencies - thank you, Mr Bean)

...and a guided walk through the Coorong where 

Israel interjected his knowledge of nature - 'dragons live in caves' - into the informative talk...

...the melaleuca trees made a 'Tree Town'...

...where someone turned three...

...and the insects were of plague proportions and being excitedly studied by uni students (and not so excitedly borne by us)...

...and we finally headed off to a friends' farm between 

Kingston and Robe...

...with which we must conclude this episode - to be continued as soon as I can drag myself away from real life...