The caravan's hot water system has been the major challenge of the last few days, and our efforts to find solutions have been protracted and mystifying. Contact with the original seller, Downunder RV proved elusive, primarily as the company had gone bust. I attempted to seek information from caravan service companies in Midland and Mandurah. Figures of $1500 or thereabouts for a new hot water unit were a tad disconcerting. Michael and Guy spent yesterday morning scratching their heads in their quest to even understand the machinations of the unit. I was starting to feel rather desperate and definitely not looking forward to cold water only for our three-month escape to the northwest.
Guy, in his wisdom, suggested Michael ring Swift, the manufacturer, for advice. As the boys had explored the hot water infrastructure intently, Michael did have an idea of its anatomy. Today, when he spoke to Fab at Swift in Melbourne, he was able to get a handle on the problem.
I still have no idea of the procedure Michael followed but the miracle actually occurred. The hot water service ignited with gas. Then, as a further test, the water was heated by electricity over about a forty-minute timeframe.
What Fab did was show Michael what to do. Apparently, that was the secret to the "reset" puzzle. That Fab and Michael were about three and a half thousand kilometres apart and operating via audio only is another miracle.
Apart from fixing an exceedingly dodgy sliding door and undertaking more dust proofing, our major problems with Digger are essentially sorted. I cannot believe this good news. The TV antenna remains a mystery but television is a luxury we can live without or just see in caravan parks (the footy for Michael). We can now look forward to some monumental cleaning and stocking before we leave in late May on our next epic quest.
So the myth of difficulty outside of the metro area is really just that, a myth. We have managed to unravel yet another mystery with the help of the humble telephone. All my online probing mattered not at all. This episode provides hope for Luddites like me all over again.
I do believe that the fairytale of the boring country town might be deliberate in some cases. Otherwise, we would be inundated with escapees from the Big Smoke, and we'd be exposed to some of the city slicker issues we had left behind. Like crime. Or crowds. Or small blocks. We occasionally miss going to the cinema, but the majority of services we need are either here in Beverley or available in Northam or Mundaring. The only other annoyance is being a fair distance from Immy, our grandbaby, and I suppose I will have to master Skype as she gets older.
In the meantime, the phone has proved triumphant once more.
Guy Slingerland (right) in his alter ego of mild-mannered musician...
The issue was the lack of hot water in the caravan...
This solution was becoming more attractive...
An external view of the defendant...
My measured response...
Until Michael met Fab on the telephone!
Now, all we look forward to is packing Digger...
Avoiding roadtrains...
Admiring desert rose blooms...
And remembering...
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