G’day Moomins. What do ya reckon? I think my Aussie is really coming along.

This post is a long and complicated beast. I’ve had to split it into two parts. Don’t panic, both parts are available right now.

I could have condensed it, but where’s the fun in that? I still want to show you everywhere I’ve been, but this time with an added flair of drama. Try to be patient. The flow may be a little more Becky than normal.

Let’s do this.

Tumby Bay → Port Lincoln

Let James’ jetties of Australia commence.

Louth Bay

Look, don’t judge me, I like the jetties.

North Shields

Of course, lo and behold, what do we have here. Another jetty.

Port Lincoln

Originally intended as a one-night functional stop to gather some supplies and get a much needed haircut, funny how things can change.

Billy Lights Point Boat Ramp

So as I seem to have explained to my parents a thousand times, you don’t actually park up on the boat ramp, but more the car park where the boat ramp is.

This particular place had ten spots where you could camp overnight as long as you had a permit. At $16.50 for a permit, it was considerably less than a campsite and now, having stayed there, I can tell you it was 200% more peaceful.

Of course, to stay there, there were conditions, like you had to be self-sufficient with your own toilet and shower.

Errm, having neither of those onboard, I was confident for one night I could control myself and my bladder. Plus, there were actual toilets within 200m of my van.

Equally confident that if a ranger demanded to see my toilet, I would show them my sink and hope that they would be horrified enough to leave.

The Investigator Clinic

Ok let’s backtrack, about two weeks before, I noticed a new mole/picnic spot on my back.

After much contortionism on my behalf using a mirror, my phone, and my watch, I managed to get a photo so I could look at it clearly.

Not being an expert in these things, I did the only thing I could and used Google Lens.

Google, of course, suggested it was a basal cell carcinoma. Being a semi-normal human, I realised that Google, like some of my family members, is a touch on the hypochondriac side.

Anyway I looked at my plan and made an appointment at The Investigator Clinic, Port Lincoln.

I should have recognised the impending signs of drama, but in my nervousness I let it slide

I’m not entirely sure how the following occurred, but it did.

I’m waiting impatiently to be called through. About 45 minutes later the doctor comes out and calls “Rebecca”. It takes a hot minute, but I recall this being my actual name and off I trot.

We go through why I’m there and her phone rings. I have to leave so she can deal with it.

Ten minutes later I’m back in the seat. She’s like, ok let’s have a look. My t-shirt is literally over my head and she says, “Oh, you’re the wrong Rebecca.” I peer out from my t-shirt and say, “I have heard this before.”

Turns out I am the wrong Rebecca and I am returned to the waiting room. I’m confused because there is no other Rebecca and, for real, my t-shirt was over my head. She could have just looked.

Half an hour later, I’m in with a new doctor and a new status of being the right Rebecca.

A biopsy/removal later and I’m on my way with a singular stitch, instructions on when to get it removed, and told the results will follow in about ten days.

I tried to insist that the other Rebecca was going to pay my bill, but they saw through me and so I paid and left. $183 if anyone is interested.

Yes I have insurance but I have to claim it back.

To Be Continued….

I’m sorry guys but if I had to wait ten days you can wait to minutes.

See you in Part Two.

XOXO