Just a short skip down the road.

And for those of you wondering – it’s not named after the fruit.  Oranges can’t be grown in orange; the climate doesn’t allow it.  It’s named after Prince William of Orange.

I packed up in the morning, and said goodbye to Dubbo – and Steve and Amanda and Darren and Liz, who’d I got to know while I was there.  Then I headed down the highway to Orange.

I arrived at the caravan park without trouble, but that’s when all the drama began.  I parked Turtle Shell on what seemed like a level spot, until I unhitched it from the car and it began to slide, even with the parking brake on.  I grabbed onto the tow ball and managed to arrest it, then yelled until people came to help me.  We managed to hitch the car up again, and I manoeuvred Turtle Shell into a better position.  This was the final set-up:

The caravan next to me belongs to Ron, a grey nomad from Brisbane who’s been travelling for years – his van has Western Australia rego, so he’s been around.  He helped me with Turtle Shell.

The treacherous slope:

You probably can’t see it – well, I didn’t see it either.  There’s an obvious slope past the gravel bed, but there’s also a slight slope to the side, and that’s what Turtle Shell was on.

And if all that wasn’t enough, I noticed my left tyre had lost a chunk of tread.  So, that’s going to need replacing – someone’s coming tomorrow to look at it.