Monday night, all packed. The plan is to head to Skipton from Ballarat, then double back as far as Enfild and the 20km downhill into Rokewood on Thursday. Hmmm, weather looks good for me, not quite so good for everyone else on Saturday, and then ...
Want to make God laugh? Tell Him your plans!
...BRRRRRINGG--BRRRRRINGG!... "London calling -- you know that server (that we depend on so much), the Dell? Well, it isn't well. Not well at all really."
Now, I have the sh*ts, and I haven't even got to camp.
So, it's all night and all day, remoting and phoning across Pacific and Atlantic to try to kick life back into some software. Well, I've just done my Firs Aid course, so it's 'C'PR for 'c'omputers now. Alas, it's not responding as it should. So, we try again the next night, and the next. On Thursday, a call to Keith to see whether they'll be short-handed if I stay with my 'patient' over the weekend. No, it'll be okay. But the patient gets worse. Things continue to fail unpredictably, though each day I hope to wake up and hear "that fixed it!", I wait in vain. http://www.viclink.com.au
stays open permanently on my desk, each few hours changing so that I can see how I might catch up -- well, get ahead of, actually -- you guys on the road. It's all good. There are trains to Camperdown for Cobden, or Terang for Mortlake, coaches to Dunkeld and Halls Gap.
"It's no use -- she won't boot anymore. It must be the motherboard."
We migrate everything to another machine after getting some more hardware for it, and life is almost back to normal, but it's Friday afternoon, you're already on your way to Lake Bolac, and I've eaten all the magenbrot I'd hope to arrive with.
The knockometer waits for me in Karri Country.