We woke up at our little overnight spot just outside Leitchville, feeling the quiet peace that only these small rural towns can offer. It’s a tiny place, home to maybe 300 people, but there’s a real sense of history standing in those paddocks. The land belongs to the Yorta Yorta people, but the town itself takes its name from William Leitch, a pioneer who set up a hotel back in the 1860s for the drovers passing through. By the time the railway arrived in the late 1800s, the place was really moving. Even now, you can tell agriculture is the lifeblood here—vast stretches of wheat and barley and plenty of sheep grazing in the sun. It’s the kind of place where everyone knows everyone at the general store or the local footy oval.
We eventually pulled stakes and moved on towards Euston, where we found a spot at the CMCA park. Lisa had a load of washing on, and once the machine finished, I headed out to put the awning out so she could get the clothes dry in the breeze. I stepped back inside the van and, without any warning, I was hit by a headache so blinding it nearly took my legs out from under me. I’m not one for a fuss, so I took a couple of Panadol and lay down for a nap, hoping it would pass. When I woke up, the thumping in my head hadn't budged an inch.
Lisa wasn't taking any chances. She bundled me into the car and drove me over to the medical centre in Robinvale. It’s a bit of a quirk of the geography out here—our camp in Euston is in New South Wales, but within minutes, Lisa had us across the border into Victoria.
When we got there, we found out they didn't have a doctor on-site. I ended up having a virtual consultation, which was a first for me—talking to a screen while feeling like my head was in a vice. The doctor on the other end didn't like the sound of things and recommended an immediate CT scan. Before I could even process that, an ambulance was called. I’ve spent a lot of years behind the wheel, but lying in the back of an ambulance was a brand-new experience I could have done without.
They took me through to the Mildura Base Public Hospital. A few hours later, after the CT scan was done, a bloke named Dr Dave came in to see me. I can’t speak highly enough of him; he was absolute gold and went out of his way to make sure I was looked after. The advice was clear: I needed a more intense diagnosis than they could provide in Mildura, which meant a trip to Melbourne.
That led to yet another first for the record books. I was transferred from the hospital to the airport and flown from Mildura to Melbourne in the air ambulance. It certainly wasn't how I imagined this leg of the trip ending, but looking back, I’m incredibly lucky that the doctors in Robinvale and Mildura took that headache as seriously as they did. It’s a reminder that even when you're out in the middle of the beautiful quiet, life can take a sharp turn.
Our Tasmania trip ends here; I spent some time in Melbourne recovering, and we eventually arrived back home.