From Melbourne to Sydney: The Moment I Nearly Changed Our Australia Road Trip

Eat Clean, Health and Dream | Summer Adventure with the Teen Boys

We had landed in Melbourne.

The Hyundai Kona was collected.

The bags were in the boot.

The boys were tired.

And suddenly there was that familiar question when travelling:

Right… where are we going now?

Our big plan was to drive from Melbourne to Brisbane over eight days, travelling up Australia's east coast and taking in as much as we could along the way.

It sounded fantastic when I'd planned it, well not quiet.

Standing in Melbourne after two long-haul flights and a 14.5-hour Shanghai layover with two tired teenagers?

It suddenly felt like a rather bigger undertaking.

First stop: St Kilda

The boys weren't hungry yet, and after all those hours sitting on planes, we all agreed that some movement would be a good idea.

So, naturally, we headed for the beach.

I'd never really explored Melbourne despite flying in and out of the city many times over the years.

My sister lived there for a year.

I've got friends there.

But somehow, Melbourne had always been an airport to me rather than a destination.

St Kilda had been recommended, so off we went.

And surprisingly, navigating Melbourne wasn't too bad.

I'm not a huge fan of city driving at the best of times, so I was quite pleased with myself when we found parking right on the seafront near the pier. I could see the Tasmania ferry ‘Spirit of Tasmania’ sitting proudly beside the pier.

The air was cool, but the sun was bright.

After the stuffy, artificial environment of airports and aircraft, it was actually lovely.

Fresh air.

Light.

Space.

Movement.

And a chance to wake ourselves up.

I suggested the Botanical Gardens to the boys.

They looked at me as if I'd completely lost the plot.

They wanted a shower.

They wanted a bed.

They wanted sleep.

Fair enough.

Finding somewhere to sleep

We had originally thought we'd spend a little more time around Melbourne before starting north.

But after a quick look at the usual booking sites, I realised that somewhere with parking, close to the route north, made much more sense.

A motel near the Yarra Valley ticked the boxes.

We booked Yarra Valley Motel through Expedia, choosing a deluxe spa room for one night.

It put us on the right side of Melbourne for our journey north the next morning.

Perfect.

Or so I thought.

The boys were asleep before I'd barely left the car park.

Driving out of Melbourne towards the motel, I hit traffic around the Olympic Village area.

There were sports fans everywhere in team colours, so I assumed there was an Aussie Rules match happening somewhere nearby.

Normally, I'd have stopped at one of the supermarkets we'd driven past.

Food for the evening.

Breakfast supplies.

Something sensible.

But I had reached that point where I just wanted to get to the motel.

I'd sort food out later.

I would regret that decision.

The longest sleep ever

We arrived at the motel at around 1pm.

We went straight into the room.

Before I'd even brushed my teeth, both boys had climbed into bed.

And within minutes, they were gone.

Completely out.

I joined them, set an alarm for a few hours later and thought I'd get up, find some food and work out the next stage.

Five o'clock came.

Both boys were still fast asleep.

I rang Craig.

His advice was simple.

Leave them. Go back to sleep.

So I did.

Then 9pm arrived.

I woke up.

Albie woke up.

Archie was still completely asleep.

At this point I thought surely they must be starving.

Apparently not.

Albie's response just a cuppa.

A cup of tea would do.

It was at this point that I started wondering whether we had completely broken our body clocks.

The spa bath and the wobble

The private spa bath in our room was an unexpected luxury and exactly what I needed.

A bath.

A freshen up.

A chance to feel human again.

But as I sat there, something else was happening.

The tiredness was catching up with me.

And suddenly the enormity of what I'd planned hit me.

I was in Australia.

With two teenage boys.

I'd just driven out of Melbourne.

And I'd planned to drive all the way to Brisbane in eight days.

On my own.

Was I actually mad?

I rang Craig.

And I'll be honest, I was questioning whether I'd made the right decision.

The plan suddenly felt massively overwhelming.

And, if I'm honest, a little scary.

I'm not scared of driving… usually

The irony is that I drive a lot.

Because of the custody arrangements with the boys, I've done plenty of driving between North Devon and Sussex over the years.

I also drive for work.

I live on a single-track road in the middle of nowhere, so country roads don't bother me.

Motorways don't particularly bother me either.

But cities?

That's another story.

I'm definitely no longer a fan of driving through busy, built-up places.

Thankfully, I'd researched the route and knew that much of the journey ahead would be very different.

I'd deliberately planned a route that avoided the coast initially from Melbourne towards Sydney and avoided tolls where possible.

My sat-nav was estimating roughly 18–19 hours of driving time for the entire journey.

Spread over eight days, that didn't sound unreasonable.

But standing there exhausted in a motel room in Melbourne, it suddenly felt like a very different proposition.

The alternative plans

Craig did what Craig does best.

He calmed me down.

We talked through the options.

Could I contact the car hire company and change the destination?

Could we fly from Melbourne to Brisbane?

Could I drive to Sydney and fly from there?

Could we fly to the Gold Coast instead?

Maybe I was just exhausted.

Actually, Craig was fairly certain I was.

And he was probably right.

The boys, in their half-awake state, weren't particularly bothered about Melbourne.

They're not city boys.

They'd rather be outdoors.

So gradually, a new plan formed.

We would get up early.

Really early.

Use our body clocks to our advantage.

Get on the road before sunrise.

Stop for breakfast when we found somewhere.

And, importantly, I would try not to do all the driving during daylight hours.

That way, the boys could experience more of the journey during the day, while I could make some progress during the quieter early hours.

I never contacted the car hire company.

The road trip was staying on.

4:30am: let's do this

Somewhere around 4:30am, I quietly packed the boot.

The boys were awake enough to understand the plan.

We jumped into the Kona and headed north.

It was dark.

And raining.

Not heavily at first.

The roads were winding and unfamiliar.

And then I saw the signs.

Kangaroos.

Wombats.

Koalas.

Deer.

Suddenly my usual North Devon nighttime driving instincts kicked in.

It's a bit like driving the North Devon Link Road in the middle of the night.

You know there could be wildlife.

You know you need to be alert.

Except instead of worrying about deer appearing from a hedge, I was now in Australia wondering what might jump, run or wander across the road.

I'd previously done nighttime driving in Australia with Craig on other trips, so I knew nocturnal wildlife wasn't just something printed on signs for tourists.

And there were plenty of reminders.

I also quickly discovered that some Australian drivers weren't particularly interested in my decision to stick to the speed limit.

The occasional local driver flashed me to move over so they could get past.

Fair enough.

I was learning.

But gradually I found my bearings.

The Kona felt comfortable.

The roads became more familiar.

And I started thinking:

I can do this.

I'd see how far we got.

No pressure.

The Woolworths breakfast that wasn't

Eventually we reached a Woolworths.

For anyone reading this from the UK, Woolworths in Australia and New Zealand isn't the Woolworths many of us grew up with—the pick 'n' mix, CDs, tapes and everything else.

It's a supermarket, more like an Australian equivalent of Tesco or Asda.

I was hoping for a coffee.

That didn't happen.

Instead, the boys stocked up.

Bread.

Cheese.

Biscuits.

Savoury hot food.

Juice.

Not exactly the breakfast of champions, but at that point we were travelling.

And one travel habit I never compromise on is water bottles.

I always take reusable bottles when we travel.

Airport.

Car.

Days out.

Everywhere.

Fill them up and keep them with you.

It saves money, reduces the need to constantly buy drinks and, more importantly, means you've always got water available when you're stuck in a car or delayed somewhere.

Then the rain really arrived

By the time we were sitting in the supermarket car park, the rain had turned torrential.

The car park was absolutely waterlogged.

We sat in the car eating while the rain hammered down.

We had a rough plan.

A few possible stops.

A couple of sights.

Rest breaks.

And absolutely no pressure to stick rigidly to it.

If the weather had been glorious, I probably would have felt guilty spending so much time driving.

But with rain like this?

There wasn't much else to do.

So we drove.

And drove.

And watched the scenery change.

And kept looking for wildlife, saw kangaroos, wallaby’s etc. Plus quiet a bit of local roadkill too.

Holbrook and a submarine

One of our stops was Holbrook, where we went to see HMAS Otway, the submarine displayed in the local park.

It was one of those unexpected roadside stops that made the journey more interesting.

And while we were there, Albie became fascinated by the birdlife.

Especially the galahs he spotted and sat watching.

It's moments like this that I love about road trips.

You don't necessarily know what you're going to find.

A submarine in a park.

A bird you've never seen before.

A random little town.

A roadside café.

A viewpoint.

They're all part of the journey.

The rain, however, was showing absolutely no intention of stopping.

So back into the car we went.

• 

• 

• 

One stop became another

We kept going.

Every so often I'd give the boys the option:

Need the loo?

Want food?

Want to stretch your legs?

Want to get out for a bit?

Then we'd get back in and carry on.

We weren't trying to smash the entire journey in one go.

The original intention had been to take our time.

But as the day progressed, and with the weather making outdoor stops less appealing, we found ourselves getting closer and closer to Sydney.

Eventually we reached our final planned stop.

The light was fading.

We were tired.

And I had a decision to make.

Do we stop here and find somewhere to sleep?

Or do we push on and get ourselves into position around Sydney?

We looked at each other.

And agreed.

Let's crack it.

The final push into Sydney

I checked accommodation from the car.

I found ibis budget Liverpool, on the outskirts of Sydney.

Breakfast.

Parking.

One night.

It would do exactly what we needed.

So off we went.

The final stretch was probably the hardest.

Pouring rain.

Mist.

Darkness.

And a driver who had been awake for far too long and had already driven for more than nine hours.

I could feel my eyes starting to droop.

That is not a stage you want to reach while driving.

I was hungry.

I was exhausted.

And I was very, very ready to stop.

When the lights of the hotel finally appeared, I don't think I've ever been so relieved to pull into a car park.

We'd made it.

Pizza, bed and Sydney tomorrow

The boys had spotted a few takeaway places as we'd driven towards the hotel.

So once we'd checked in, I ordered pizza.

It disappeared remarkably quickly.

Teenage boys apparently do eventually get hungry.

We settled into bed after sending our updates to Craig and my parents to let them know we'd arrived safely.

I'd driven for just over nine hours.

The boys had survived another huge travel day.

And the Melbourne-to-Sydney section of our adventure was done.

More importantly, I had survived the moment where I'd nearly talked myself out of the entire road trip.

Looking back, I think exhaustion had made the challenge seem much bigger than it actually was.

I didn't need to have every kilometre planned.

I didn't need to know exactly where we'd be each night.

I just needed to keep making sensible decisions.

Stop when we needed to.

Eat.

Drink.

Move.

Sleep.

And keep going.

And perhaps that's one of the biggest lessons travel keeps teaching me.

You don't always need to know exactly how you're going to get there.

Sometimes you just need to start driving.

Tomorrow?

Sydney.

And the adventure up the east coast would really begin.