Chapter 15: Adventures in Waste Disposal and… Smoky Bay
With the shower blocked and the campervan smelling a rank smell of rotting water, we make our way back to Port Lincoln to purchase unblocking supplies from Bunnings. It’s fortunate we’re near a town because what follows turns out to be a palaver of multiple plungers, chemicals, frustrating phone calls to Britz and the assistance of not one but two kindly plumbers.
A lesson in how to unblock a RV drain
When I finally get through to them, the Britz people are absolutely useless, “pour boiling water down the plughole” is their suggestion. If that doesn’t help, we’ll need to go to the Port Lincoln Caravan Centre and they don’t open until Monday. Since nothing is going down the plughole at all now, all this does is put more water in the bottom of the shower recess.
We try plunging the drain with no success. We try shooting fresh water up the drain pipe. Nothing. I try caustic soda but all that does is create a more toxic puddle at the bottom of the shower. It always works at home so I’m out of ideas.
T finds a 24 hour plumber in town who, to his immense credit, picks up the phone at 10 am on a Sunday morning. He doesn’t have the tools to fix campervan plumbing but he suggests that it is probably an airlock trapped in the piping.
If this is the case, it formed before we even picked up the van. Now we are really frustrated with Britz for creating this situation in the first place and being so unhelpful.
Since we bought two plungers, Kind Plumber #1 suggests alternating between sealing the sink hole and plunging the shower to see if the airlock will clear that way. It seems to have some effect but still it doesn’t clear.
At this point, T is under the campervan at the dumping point inspecting the plumbing. He’s an electrical engineer but he’s relatively handy if you don’t want him to tile anything. He disconnects one of the pipes and suddenly, water starts running out. It’s a gross brown colour but we grab a bucket and start manually dumping it into the drain.
A ute with WA number plates pulls up. I smile charmingly to the couple inside and say, “I don’t suppose one of you is a plumber?” And the young man — who looks rather similar to my friend’s son in the way scruffy WA boys all look alike — says, “as a matter of fact I am.”
Now Kind Plumber #2 is lying under the van with T. T suggests unscrewing another pipe and KP2 says, “yeah, that could work.” He concurs with KP1 that an airlock in the pipes is the likely cause.
At least water is coming out of the system now if not the actual waste pipe. This means the airlock is situated right near the exit point valve. T flushes it all out with water and a very small amount of sludge comes out. This is obviously not the blockage.
With progress at last, poor T covered in a gross mix of road dirt, grey water and caustic soda. After two hours we finally manage to clear the problem, refill the water supply and get on our way.
How did you spend your Sunday morning?
Coffin Bay
We had planned to stop further along the way to Smoky Bay but I decide it’s too close to lunchtime. Coffin Bay is famous for its oysters and G, who never met a vegetable he would willingly eat, is particularly partial to them. So is T. I can take them or leave them but I make an executive decision that we deserve a nice lunch.
Coffin Bay is a pretty little town set along the curve of the bay. It has a couple of very fancy oyster restaurants but we see a “Fresh Oysters” sign outside of a nondescript café called Beachcomer.
We then proceed to have a platter of 12 fresh oysters and a fisherman’s basket including a very tasty lemon salt and pepper calamari. G eats the oyster platter in around 90 seconds before announcing they are delicious but he’s still hungry. A — who hates all shellfish and a lot of other fish — wolfs down a burger and then has a nibble at the calamari. He then announces it passable and scoffs a fair portion of it while T and I fight for the scraps.
It turns out to be a very satisfying lunch after such a calamitous morning.
On the way to Smoky Bay, the Britz people call and ask how I went with the waste water drain. I explain about the airlock situation. The woman on the end tells me, ‘yes, that can happen if the van is sitting around for awhile before it is used.’
Things that would have been useful to know earlier.
Smoky Bay
Our stop for the night is Smoky Bay. Around 40 km from Ceduna it is the last stop before our Nullabor Crossing.
We had intended to bush camp but T announces from the back that Smoky Bay has a caravan park and he could really use a shower. Having not showered for four days, I do not require any persuading on this point. Also, my toothbrush needs charging.
The caravan park is situated right on the foreshore of a long, sheltered bay with a jetty jutting into it. The town is inordinately proud of the jetty as it fell into disrepair and the raised a large amount of money to have it fixed up.
The first thing we notice about Smoky Bay is that it is calm. Having been buffeted by strong winds for most of a week, this makes a very pleasant change. The second thing we notice about Smoky Bay is the giant dark grey bank of cloud in the distance. It is so dark that it is hard to discern where the water ends and the sky begins.
We all splash about in the water to refresh ourselves in the humidity, grateful to have a proper shower awaiting us.
I go for a walk along the jetty and as I’m returning the wind picks up. It provides a bit of relief from the humidity. But two minutes later, I’m at the beach again and it’s starting to blow insistently. In the five minutes it takes me to spot the beach towel one of my kids has left on the beach, the wind has reached almost cyclonic force. It’s blowing so hard the sand from the beach is buffeting my face. I grab the towel and run for the caravan park as other people run for cover.
The wind sporadically buffets the campervan all night. It’s so loud at one point that I wonder if it will pick up the campervan, twirl us around and land us in Oz. Or maybe Esperance.
Hopefully not on top of my sister.
