My first motorhome holiday - what I did right and what every beginner should know

My dad's words ring in my head as I clamber behind the wheel of the motorhome: "A Falson can drive anything." I believe him, but this behemoth is twice the length of my Kia SUV and has the turning circle of a bus.

I shift the Apollo Euro Quest into reverse and the giant beeps like a lorry. Indeed, my partner and I develop a nickname for our temporary home over our five days together: The Truck. We are on our first-ever motorhome journey, driving north from Sydney to Black Head Beach on the NSW Mid Coast, staying at four campsites along the way.

My dad was a zealous camper in his younger days, so I assume some outdoor skills must be in my blood. Our vehicle has all the mod cons, too: toilet, shower, hot water, kitchen and bed. What could go wrong?

After pulling the juggernaut out of the shiny new Apollo warehouse at Bankstown Aerodrome, we drive straight into Western Sydney traffic, undertaking what can only be described as a terrifying rat run through narrow streets, not at all certain the passenger-side mirror won't be popped off at any moment by the seemingly too-close power poles. If, like us, you haven't driven anything bigger than a car before, then you really should factor some time into your schedule to get the hang of the vehicle's bulk before driving it in peak hour.

Our Euro Quest is a Mercedes, with comfortable seats and a spacious cabin full of nooks for our belongings. But get ready for a loud ride as the plates and cutlery in the kitchen cupboards rattle at every bump in the road.

By the time we hit the freeway and flick the dial to Sea 101.3 Central Coast radio, we have settled into most of The Truck's quirks. At Kincumber, we indulge in our first road-trip meal, a meat pie - brisket and jalapeno with cheese for me - at Pomegranate Cafe, which stocks the local brand with the best name, Shhhmoakesys Gourmet Pies.

Pelicans, white sandbars and mangroves are our roadside entertainment for the next two hours as we head up the scenic Central Coast Highway towards One Mile Beach at Port Stephens (where we're spending our first night). To our surprise, we see an emu in a paddock near Williamtown, and Google tells us we may have spotted the famous town bird, Eric the Emu!

When we arrive at Ingenia Holidays park, Kellee at reception is helpful and friendly, giving coastal holiday vibes. We reverse our vehicle into our powered campsite (I get out and act as traffic controller for my partner because of the sheer number of kids running around), and start setting up, only to discover the power isn't working. The after-hours attendant, Paul, a low-key fellow with thong-clad feet, helps us test all the parameters before deciding there's only one more course of action: he plugs our power cord into the socket meant for the caravan next door, and plugs their cord into our socket, and voila! Both camping set-ups work. As Paul says, some things just can't be explained.

Knowing we will have to clean out the on-board toilet if we use it, we save this amenity for emergencies, and I don't mind walking the couple of hundred metres to the facilities block when nature calls in the middle of the night.

The motorhome's on-board shower is situated almost above the toilet, which we find disconcerting, so we avail ourselves of the campsite's shared facilities instead. After packing up, we notice the wastewater from washing up last night's dinner dishes has trickled out onto the ground from a valve in the side of the vehicle, and I make a mental note to attach the waste hose and direct it away from the campsite next time.

Nearby Port Stephens is pumping with weekend coffee-goers and we can't find anywhere to park our large vehicle, so we head to the nearby Koala Sanctuary where there are dedicated bus parking spots. Koala ambassador Jodie tells us volunteers have travelled up to three hours to gather the right "local leaf" to feed their cuddly residents. All are rescues, who have come to the sanctuary and its koala hospital with a variety of ailments, including broken limbs and eye infections.

We arrive at the idyllic Mungo Brush campground - an unpowered site on the water in the Myall Lakes National Park - and use the motorhome's gas barbecue to cook sausages (our staple on-the-road dinner). Brush turkeys, ducks and kookaburras chatter around our camp and at dusk, prawners in rubber overalls, wielding hand-held nets, wade out into the waist-deep water, silhouetted against the pink sunset.

There are no park lights guiding my way to the pit toilets, and I try to be brave when I read the sign in the toilet block warning not to feed the dingoes. A catbird wails into the darkness, and the bright stars twinkle like beacons, guiding me back to camp.

Motorhoming is just like camping, I realise, with a few extra luxuries. I've worked out how to heat the water for the washing up, however we're still not keen on showering over the toilet so we head off unwashed, embracing the camping funk.

It's my turn to drive The Truck and I enjoy manoeuvring it out on the open road. A pit stop at the sleepy rural town of Bulahdelah yields homemade cakes to rival your local Country Women's Association, sold at the family-owned Cafe on Main. I inhale a slice of crumbly, buttery passionfruit coconut cake with lashings of zesty icing.

Sugarloaf Point Lighthouse is our next stop and there must be 100 different bird species twittering simultaneously during our bushy walk to the point. We rest at a grassy outcrop and contemplate the pristine Sugarloaf Beach and magnificent rock formations, and keep a lookout - fruitlessly - for whales.

But our luck changes back down at Number One Beach Seal Rocks, across the road from our Reflections campground, when we spy a large tail raised out of the water - seemingly waving at us - followed by a mighty spout of water expelled high into the sky.

All roads have led here: it's time to clean out the toilet. I watch the Apollo instruction video on the app I have downloaded, slide our 'cassette' (aka toilet waste receptacle) out of the side of the vehicle and pour the chemical blue liquid down into the disposal pit, hosing out the cassette afterwards. It's surprisingly straightforward, but not enjoyable, and we avoid using the on-board loo for the rest of the trip.

Back on the road, a messy jumble of sticks - an eagle's nest, with two eagles! - punctuates our drive up to Forster, where we tuck into flaky and moist fish and chips (and a crab stick, just for old time's sake) with lashings of chicken salt from Salt by the Sea. A sign on the counter reads: "We don't do fast food. We do good food. As fast as we can."

Further up the coast at Black Head Beach, we take a refreshing dip in the sea pool before checking into Diamond Beach Holiday Park, where old-fashioned holiday homes with names like Kegs Place and Eat Sleep Fish wait quietly for their owners to return for the summer holidays.

Grace from Hallidays Sports Club picks us up in a courtesy bus for dinner, which includes a show-stopping cook-at-the-table stone grill scotch fillet. We eat, watching a toddler chase a brush turkey, and a family of magpies squabble over a chip on the bowling green. Driving us back to camp, Grace recounts the time a kookaburra swooped down in the beer garden and stole her entire burger.

I've slept well in the motorhome, even though the bed seems a bit short. With my feet up on the dash, I'm feeling relaxed - but also ready to get home to my creature comforts.

Back towards Sydney, we stop off at Pie in the Sky at Cowan on the old Pacific Highway, a ramshackle roadhouse with vintage Route 66 paraphernalia. I devour my curry beef pie, and Nick, who serves us, says the brush turkeys are rife around here, too: "They'll drink your coffee if you let them!" he laughs.

Like all good road trips, we start and end with a pie. My dad will be proud.

The writer was a guest of Apollo