Until next time Spear Creek

 

Pack-up day had arrived.

For the first morning all week, we woke up with no camp buddies. The campground that had been full of friends, laughter and questionable stories around the fire was now completely ours.

As usual, I was awake early and quietly pottering around camp while Tracy slept. Unfortunately, my attempts at being stealthy were no match for the irresistible attraction of Tracy wanting to spend an extra hour or two of her last day here with me, and she was soon also outside with a coffee.

The place felt strangely peaceful. No friends. No Tully (she'd gone home with the kids yesterday). Just the two of us and the sound of me filling the silence by talking about every thought I'd accumulated while waiting for Tracy to wake up.

With no need to rush, we took our time packing up. Unlike some caravan parks where you're racing against boom gates and checkout times, this place simply trusts people to do the right thing.

We cleaned as we packed, which mostly involved me putting things away, then finding a "better" place for them, then moving them back to where they started. Caravan packing seems to consist largely of carrying the same item around three times before accepting your first decision was correct.

Eventually the van was ready, the car was loaded and the final game of "where did I put that?" was completed.

Leaving Spear Creek is always a little sad. It has become one of our favourite July escapes, and once again it delivered everything we love about coming here — amazing winter weather, spectacular scenery, great 4WD adventures and plenty of time spent with good people.

On the way home we stopped in Wirrabara to admire the impressive silo art before continuing to Clare for the mandatory bakery visit. No holiday return trip is complete without consuming something that probably undoes all the exercise from the previous week.

A couple of fuel stops and several coffee-induced toilet breaks later, we were finally home.

Now comes the less enjoyable part of every camping trip: washing mountains of smoke-infused clothing and attempting to remove Flinders Ranges mud from areas of the vehicle that shouldn't logically contain mud. Still, that's tomorrow's problem.

For now, we're left with another collection of memories from a fantastic week away.

And that's why we do it. The washing eventually gets done. The car eventually gets cleaned. But the memories tend to stick around a whole lot longer. Until next July, Spear Creek.