The plan was simple: ease into the trip gently. The universe, however, had other ideas — including four‑foot surf and ten million ants.
From Deepwater we pointed the convoy north toward 1770, with Theresa and Murray leading like they’d been promoted to tour directors. The campground hasn’t changed in a decade — which is a polite way of saying nothing has been fixed since flip phones were cool — but when the sunsets are that outrageous, you forgive everything.
The council, on the other hand, has been busy. New sandstone walls, new paths, new lookouts. Someone clearly found a leftover grant and thought, “Let’s make this place Instagram‑proof.”
Company was brilliant. Jo (Theresa’s sister) and John dropped in for sunset drinks, the southerlies kept blowing like they were trying to relocate the coastline, and a tiny swell started to show. Only a couple of inches, but enough to make me question whether all those “I learned to surf at Agnes” stories were actually true and not just campfire fiction.
After a few cruisy days — washing done, headland walks, plenty of laughs — we rolled into Agnes Waters Caravan Park to meet the next wave of friends.
The Surf That Shouldn’t Exist (But Absolutely Did)
Confession: whenever someone has told me they learned to surf at Agnes, I’ve always thought, “Mate… you’re dreaming.” Maybe once every leap year you’d get a wave, but nothing you’d learn on.
Well. Well. Turns out I was the one dreaming.
The southerlies kept pushing, the swell kept building, and suddenly Agnes was serving 1–2–3–4ft pumping waves right out the front of the caravan park. Steve and John hadn’t even brought boards — same mindset as me — so they hired one between them. Two blokes, one board. Peak optimism.
First day I surfed two one‑hour sessions. Next day was even better — I stayed out for 2 hours 40 minutes. Day after that? Another 2 hours 48 minutes. By then I was walking like a retired rodeo clown but grinning like a kid.
I’ve now got a whole new respect for the locals. The only thing stopping Agnes from becoming Noosa 2.0 is the slightly murky water thanks to the dirtier sand. But the wave quality? Absolutely up there. April was my most surfed month in years.
Friends, Fire Pits, and the Best Send‑Off
Catching up with old friends — and making new ones — was the perfect send‑off for this next chapter. Tony and Ally (camped beside us) were brilliant company… and also gifted me a man‑cold. Nothing says “new friendship” like sharing viruses.
Louise ran morning yoga for the girls, the boys retold the same stories we’ve been telling for 40 years, and everyone pretended they were hearing them for the first time. It was magic.
Burrum Heads & The Great Ant Invasion
After Agnes we caught up with Jelly at Burrum Heads, with Steve joining in. Beautiful spot by the river, quiet, cheap, peaceful.
Until the next morning.
I woke up, saw a squashed moth on the canvas and thought, “Should’ve cleaned that yesterday.” Then I noticed the little black dots moving. Ants. Everywhere. Within 12 hours the camper had been invaded by what felt like ten million of the little buggers.
Cue six hours of unpacking the entire camper, spraying everything in sight (cheers Jelly for the emergency can), and trying to work out what we’d done wrong.
Important learning:
- Put water in the feet of the three support legs.
- Spray the legs monthly with exterior barrier spray.
- Never underestimate an ant with ambition.
We spent the next week making sure every last ant was gone. Upside? We now know every nook and cranny of the Ultimate — probably better than the people who built it.
Back to Brisso: The Big Shrink
Then it was back to Brisbane for the final push: selling furniture, dealing with Marketplace characters (you know the type), and packing 40 years of life into a 5m x 2.5m storage room, the camper, and the Trailblazer. Bond clean, house prep, the whole lot.
Wouldn’t call it fun, but it was the final step. After four decades in one house, we were finally ready to roll out and start the next chapter.
Before I wrap this up, I want to hand over to the real hero of this whole operation — Shell. My version of events is the surf, the mates, the ants… but her version is the heart of what this move actually meant
This is the other half — the wife, the mother.
Packing a four‑bedroom house into a one‑bedroom camper is hard enough physically, but the emotional side of dismantling a family home without a new one to set up was overwhelming. There were days I couldn’t do a single thing without crying.
During all of this, the loss of my dad hit me incredibly hard. He knew we were planning this trip, but he never got to see or hear about our camper. He would have loved it. He would have had endless suggestions on where to go and what to see, and now those ideas sit as blanks I’ll never get to fill in.
When the packing finally started, we tried to be methodical, but distractions were everywhere. You’d open a cupboard, find something out of place, move it to the right spot… and immediately get pulled into another task. It felt like every time we made progress, something else needed attention.
To make sorting easier, I put polls in the family chat so the kids could vote on what they wanted — casserole dishes, vases, glasses, furniture. It turned into a game. If more than one child wanted the same thing, we drew straws. Then we escalated to random formulas in Excel. Eventually we ended up spinning a digital wheel of chance. Chaos, but fun chaos.
For the bigger items the kids didn’t want, I became very familiar with Facebook Marketplace. Most buyers were lovely, but wow… some people are pushy. In the end, whatever didn’t sell went to Vinnies.
David was an absolute machine during the house clean. Because we decided to rent the property out, we had to clean every single nook and cranny. We chose to go through an agent — we don’t want to be managing a property while travelling. Much better to let someone else handle it.
In a lovely twist, our daughter ended up buying so much of our furniture that we’ve been joking it’ll feel like coming home whenever we visit her.
Amidst the chaos, we also squeezed in doctor appointments, scripts, preventative tests, jewellery repairs, and updating our wills. We were busy, to say the least.
Now, as we sit in our “lounge” — two camping chairs — we can honestly say that with just a couple of things left to put into storage in the morning, we’ll be leaving for our lap by lunchtime.
Next stop: the real beginning — and a few surprises we didn’t see coming.
