Shower Showdown

When you're caravanning in the Australian Outback, a good sense of humer is sometimes as essential as a good hot shower. This became crystal clear to me during one memorable trip that I'll never forget, thanks to an unexpected hot water mishap.

Picture this: the vast, red expanse of the Outback, kangaroos hopping in the distance, and the smell of eucalyptus in the air. It was the perfect setting for a grand adventure. I had just installed my brand-new caravan hot water system, and was eager to test out its promises of endless, hot water.

We set up camp by a picturesque billabong, miles from the nearest town. After a long day of hiking and exploring, I was ready to enjoy the first hot shower in what felt like ages. I turned the dial, waiting with anticipation for that glorious stream of hot water.

To my horror, the water came out ice-cold. My teeth chattered as I realised my dream of a perfect shower was turning into a nightmare. Determined not to be outdone by a piece of machinery, I decided to investigate.

My mate Steve, ever the DIY enthusiast, was convinced he could fix it. "No worries, mate," he said, cracking open a beer. "Just a little tweaking, and she'll be right." Armed with a toolbox and far too much confidence, he set to work.

As Steve fiddled with the system, offering a running commentary of technical jargon, I couldn't help but laugh. He looked like a cross between a bush mechanic and a constant from Alone. "Aha! Found the problem!" he declared triumphantly. "It's the doohickey connected to the whatsit. Just needs a good bash with the ol' spanner"

Sure enough, after a few taps and an alarming number of sparks, the hot water system roared to life. Steve grinned, clearly proud of his handiwork. I tentatively stepped back into the shower, praying for warmth.

This time, the water was scalding. I jumped back with a yelp, barely escaping second-degree burns. "Too hot!" I shouted, and Steve's laughter echoed through the outback. "Guess we cranked it up a bit too much, mate!"

After several more adjustments – each one more ridiculous than the last – we finally managed to get the temperature just right. By this point, half the camp had gathered to watch the spectacle, turning my simple shower into the evening's entertainment.

With the water now at a comfortable temperature, I finally enjoyed that long-awaited hot shower. The crowd cheered as I emerged, wrapped in a towel, steam rising around me like I was some sort of outback superhero.

After that initial hot water fiasco, Steve and I quickly became the talk of the camp. Our impromptu plumbing show had set the bar pretty high for entertainment, and we could tell that the other campers were eagerly awaiting what shenanigans we’d get up to next. Little did they know, the Outback had plenty more in store for us.

The next morning, we were up early, ready to head out for a day of exploring. The desert sun was already beating down, but the promise of a cool dip in a nearby watering hole kept us motivated. Before we left, Steve, in his usual carefree manner, decided to check on the hot water system "one last time" – just to be sure it was still working properly.

What could go wrong, right?

As he bent down to inspect the unit, I could see that mischievous twinkle in his eye. "I reckon I can tweak this just a tad more," he muttered. I should have known better than to let him near it again, but I was too busy packing snacks to intervene.

Suddenly, there was a loud hiss, followed by a metallic clang. I turned around to see Steve standing there, his face a mix of shock and pride, holding what appeared to be a vital part of the hot water system in his hand. "Uh… I think I’ve done it again, mate."

This time, the hot water system wasn’t just malfunctioning – it had decided to go rogue. A jet of water shot out from the side of the caravan, arcing high into the air before drenching the nearby campfire. Steam rose dramatically as the water sizzled against the hot coals. The other campers, drawn once again by the commotion, gathered around, trying to stifle their laughter.

"Well, that’s one way to put out a fire," I quipped, trying to make light of the situation. But Steve was already in troubleshooting mode, fiddling with the system like it was a puzzle he was determined to solve.

As he tinkered, things went from bad to worse. The rogue water jet seemed to have a mind of its own, spraying in every direction. Before we knew it, it had soaked half the camp, including a couple of chairs, a picnic table, and an unsuspecting kangaroo that had wandered too close.

By now, the entire campsite was in stitches. Someone handed Steve a pair of goggles, and another camper suggested we open a car wash. "At least we know the water pressure’s good!" someone shouted from the back, which only made the situation funnier.

Amid the chaos, our new friend Jill, a seasoned caravanner with a wealth of experience, stepped forward. "Mind if I take a look?" she asked, suppressing a grin. Steve, looking a bit sheepish, handed her the wrench and goggles.

Jill’s calm demeanor was a stark contrast to our earlier flailing. Within minutes, she’d identified the problem – a small valve that had come loose during Steve’s enthusiastic "tweaking." A quick twist here, a gentle adjustment there, and the water jet calmed down, finally behaving like a normal hot water system should.

The crowd applauded as Jill stood up, victorious. "There you go, gents," she said with a wink. "Sometimes less is more."

We thanked Jill profusely, and as the crowd dispersed, Steve and I stood there, drenched but grateful. Our caravan was now the cleanest in the Outback, and our reputation as the camp’s resident comedians was firmly established.

For the rest of the trip, the hot water system behaved itself, delivering perfect showers without a hint of drama. But the memory of that wild morning stayed with us – a reminder that in the Outback, you’ve got to roll with the punches, and sometimes, those punches come in the form of a high-pressure water hose.

Every evening around the campfire, the other campers would bring up the incident, adding their own embellishments and turning it into an epic tale that would probably be retold at caravan parks for years to come. Steve and I didn’t mind – after all, if you can’t laugh at yourself, what’s the point of caravanning?

By the end of the trip, we’d made a whole bunch of new friends, and every time someone fired up their hot water system, there was a wink and a nod in our direction. As we packed up to head home, Steve turned to me and said, "You know, mate, I think we should start a business – ‘Steve and Rob: Hot Water Experts.’ What do you reckon?"

I laughed, shaking my head. "Only if it comes with a warning label."

And with that, we hit the road, leaving behind a trail of laughter, warm showers, and one very clean kangaroo.