Riding in the back of a caravan, to the start of a two-day bushwalk, is a first for both of us. Everything is rattling and squeaking as we sit at the tiny table, clutching our backpacks to stop them flinging about as the unsprung van hurtles along at 90km an hour. What if the lovely couple in the car forget we are on board? We peer anxiously out the curtains. A few familiar landmarks whiz past and then the sign that indicates our turn-off. Our driver hits the brakes and the caravan bounces to a stop in the dirt beside the road.
