The following event can be mapped at the top of the most stupid things I have done myself in this year, as the number two on My Stupidities of 2010, following number one which took place in Australia during a road trip with my best friend Antal in our van named Jack.

Stupidity Number 2:

Let’s stay in Australia, because that trip was quite an adventure. Every night we’d ride into an unknown town to find a place to camp. Most times it was at commercial caravan parks, but sometimes we could also just park our van in a communal park that also provided shower and toilets.

Perfect.

So we found our spot, somewhere in the town of Wagga Wagga in New South Wales (in the southeast of Australia). The next day we would end up in Sydney, finishing our great ride through Oz.

And there was this nice park, named Wilks Park. It had a green patch and a toilet building and we could park there. But Ramon found it more interesting to drive into that park a little bit more, as there was a little dirt track going trough the trees, which should end up near the small Murrumbridgee River. And I’d rather stay overnight along a river than next to a toilet building, so I ignored Antal’s request to take it easy and just park on the grass near that building and I drove the van into the dirt track.

Don’t worry; it’s just a dirt track. Look, it’s all fine.

It did become a bit bumpy here and there and it was clear it had some rain in the past days. But if I’d just drive slow, there would be no problem.

I think I drove about 1 km into that track and still there was no river in sight.

Antal wanted me to return, but I said it could be a circle track, as it swirled around and might just simply end up at that toilet building again. Alright, Ignorant Ramon continued until I stopped.

There was a pool of water in the middle of the road. I overlooked the situation. You never know how deep a pool of water is on a dirt track. That’s what I know in general. But if I drove along the sides and get enough speed, we’d just rush through it easily. Right? Wrong. There I went, pushed the gas and drove along the side of that two meters wide pool.

And got stuck halfway.

Slowly the van tilted to the right, in the center of the pool. Uhm…That’s not good.

Antal was throwing names at me again, but also I saw our entire van disappear in that pool. What if it just turned the van to the side?! All our stuff would get wet and muddy and that’s not really a good closure to our trip. And we still wanted to sell our nicely kept van in Sydney again…

I should try to get out and asked Antal to hang on the left side of the van to be some leverage (as a slim 23yo lady would be of course). And pushed the pedal again. But instead of going forward, the van slid backwards and tilted even deeper to the right, into the water. Oh, fuck. That was the most reasonable thought I head.

This was wrong.

We needed help. And fast. So I told Antal to stay put with that car while I’d get help. There must be other people camping around here. I have seen their caravans! But with flip-flops you can’t run. I kicked them off and started running. First on the track, but eventually cutting short through the low bush. I don’t remember what I stepped on and yes it had hurt quite much a couple of times, but there were bigger issues at stake.

I screamed for help; somebody should here me. After about ten minutes I found a van with the lights on inside. As I came on screaming one man was already outside. I explained him the situation while catching my breath again, trying the pressure the seriousness of our giant problem.

We were stuck. With our van. In a pool. And the van is tilting. And that’s no good. Can you please help me? Something like that.

The man told me the story of how that happened with him too, just a week ago. Fortunately his wife was around with their giant SUV to pull him out. And that SUV was standing right there too. Great! Can you help us? Yes, he said. But we don’t have a rope to pull. Oh. Damn. F#$k.

I had already spotted another camper nearby. The man would get in his truck as soon as he found his shoes, while I was already halfway to the other van. I knocked the door and this friendly grey couple looked at me through the opened door.

Oh, you are stuck? That’s no good. Our car won’t make it on that track. Where are you from? The Netherlands? That’s such a nice country. But we do have a rope if that can be helpful? Yes. Rope. Helpful. Truck. Pull. Van. Out. Water. We. Happy.

The old man and I walked ahead onto the track with a big flashlight while the truck would follow us a few minutes later. We should be around this corner. Or the next one. Oh, I did drive pretty far. The headlights would still be on and I should see our truck pretty soon. Eventually I called Antal. Here!, she answered in a far distance. Right, there we are. We arrived at our van just when the truck had arrived too. Antal had turned of the lights to save the battery so we were in complete evening darkness. But there was no need to explain the situation, anybody could see that a fool had been at work here.

“That van doesn’t belong on a dirt track, mate!” the old man said. “And you were driving this thing?” the man in the truck asked me. And in the meantime the angered eyes of Antal were hurting on me. Painfully.

Question was: could we get the van out of there? Without it tilting to the right all the way? Possible, both man said. Suddenly we were all three knee deep in the mud, as one person was shining with his light and the other one of trying to get a rope around one of the wheels suspensions. I was the one not knowing what to do at all and tried to hold the van. As if.

Along the track Antal was praying to the sky and to our beloved Jack. And probably cursing me even more.

We should be able to pull out the van backwards, but with the first pull something snapped. Hard.

There we were, Antal and I, both going mental, as we didn’t want any more bad things to happen to the van. We had to continue to Sydney in it, right!

It was the rope that had snapped. But the truck man tried it again. With the old man behind the wheels, where the water was already touching the pedals, the van moved. And it tilted. And it moved backwards. And just at the point where everybody thought it was over, where the car would just splash to one side and everything would be gone – Jack turned straight again. And got out of the pool. There it was. Dripping mud.

The back suspension had had quite a pull. Would everything still work? We were both too shit scared to give it a try and to get this car back to the original spot at the start of the park. So the old man got in and turned the van around. We followed back the truck to the toilet building where we got out. Of course we were totally thankful to our two heroes. And the van seemed to be all right too. However pretty muddy.

We washed our hands and feed at a water pump. And I saw the damage I had created on the sole of my foot. But that wasn’t the worst thing yet.

I found it rather uncomfortable to confront Antal. She had been right the entire time and I was that fool that thought otherwise. Of course.

“So, we should just park right here, next to this building?” I asked.

“Hell no!” she answered. “I am not going to stay in this park any minute longer. Let’s drive into town and get a room in the first hotel we can find. No ten minutes later she walked into Romano’s on Fitzmaurice Street, the first hotel we could find.

And I followed her.

Limping.