May: A month in the life of a nomad Mum

A perfect snapshot of how wonderful, joyful, and stressful family buslife can be

Let’s start with the rain

I love rain. Water is the lifeblood of the Earth. It enables our survival, and it feels so damn good on my skin.

That said, this year on the East coast of Australia has been ridiculously wet. Relentless. The grand finale was last week’s torrential rain event, completely devastating communities in the mid-north coast of New South Wales.

We drove through the aftermath. Residents scraping thick smelly mud off their driveways, stacking their soggy, ruined belongings in the street. No one talks about the stench after a flood. Imagine dead fish, seaweed, rotting animal flesh, and cow-sht-infused mud.

I feel grateful to have a roof over our heads, and a home we can move at will, to avoid being caught up in the middle of a natural disaster.

Buslife Rule #1: Get Premium Roadside Assistance

In the midst of the rain drama, our clutch decided it was time to retire. Once you smell a burnt-out clutch, you can’t unsmell it. For the second time in four years, we coughed up many dollarydoos¹ to replace it.

Fortunately, we have excellent breakdown assistance, which puts us up in accommodation and provides a hire car while the bus is out of action. So we had a three day break in a little cabin near the beach. I made the most of having a washing machine and dryer so I could demould (and deworm—because bush kids—I won’t elaborate) our belongings.

Kangaroos enjoying the view over Emerald Beach.

Our faithful bus home

For the first time in six years, we are experiencing major leaking and mould issues due to the sheer volume of water. On the night of the nearby floods, water started pooling in a new way and funnelled straight through the rear door seals. I slept on a wet mattress, while rain continued to bucket down. I sobbed myself to sleep, convinced our home was broken and this whole life was falling apart (spoiler alert: the sun came out, and our bus is not ruined).

Less dramatically, but consistently, water has been seeping into our garage area (under the bed) and is pooling in the kitchen and absorbing into every one of our belongings, including the suitcases housing our winter gear. For the second time in a month, we spent a day gutting the bus, washing and drying everything and repacking. Mould is forming in hard to reach corners, proving difficult but necessary to keep on top of. When the weather isn’t too warm, we run our diesel heater to dry things out as much as possible.

In happier fungi news…

The rainforest is absolutely glowing.

We’ve been playing in places so lush, so full of life, that it’s impossible not to be absorbed into the present moment. Every shade of green imaginable in moss, lichen, trees, vines and ferns, and every other colour of fungi. Swollen creeks carving their way through the mountains, toppling over cliffs to form rainbows as they hit the pools below.

It’s a fairy wonderland. I’m six years old again, prancing around the forest with my own kids, imagining what magical creatures are hiding in mossy tree stumps, waiting for darkness to fall so they can dance in the light of bioluminescent mushrooms.

At home by the ocean

After a month inland, weaving our way between waterfalls, remote national park campsites and charming country towns, we landed back on the coast in early May.

My soul is free in the mountains. But I always return home to the sea.

The water is stained shades of brown from bursting river water, so there’s been less swimming than usual. One morning, I got out my racing paddle board, reconnecting with my body in a way I haven’t done since I was a teenager. It was exhilarating to soar down waves again, heart pounding, one with the ocean.

The sunrises have been spectacular, peaking out from behind dark rain clouds to create golden streams of light across the sky and ocean. I anchor myself to these mornings of solitude—just me, my yoga mat and oddly, a bird…

It has become a common occurrence for a Kookaburra, Magpie or Brush Turkey to sit by me during my morning practice. I like to think they’re keeping watch, to protect my peace.

1. Kookaburra 2. My son admiring the ocean 3. The bus and I 4. Coffs Harbour 5. Bus and Kangaroo 6. Recording a Nature Immersion in the rainforest

This month has reminded me how alive Australia is.

It’s certainly been a wild ride. Most of me loves the thrill of the challenge, watching us bend and grow as a family in the face of adversity. A small part of me feels like I’m getting too old for this sht. I think I’m ready for my cute cottage in the Tasmanian countryside.

Would you leave the comforts and stability of home behind for a life of adventure?

Stay curious and kind,
Simone

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Thank you for reading The Wild to Live. In case you missed these posts from earlier this month, here is Part 1 and 2 of my nature-inspired self-inquiry:

🌿 Part 1: Stripping off to bare my soul to the Earth

🌿 Part 2: How does one participate mindfully in society (including a 5-minute guided nature meditation to help you reconnect to Earth and self)

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dollarydoos – A fictional term for Australian dollars, popularised by the kids’ show Bluey.