Finding a free camp with kids: the questions I actually ask before we pull in

Last month we pulled into a free camp on the Fitzroy River, seventh site along, and I watched a bloke in a 22ft van reverse straight past three empty spots because none of them had shade over the annexe by 3pm. Fair enough, in his position. My criteria that same afternoon were different: was there somewhere flat enough that the kids wouldn't roll a footy into the fire pit, and was the drop toilet within sprinting distance for a seven-year-old who leaves it to the last minute every single time. Free camping with kids isn't the same sport as free camping solo, and most of the advice out there is written by people without a dog, two primary-schoolers and a bedtime to hit.

We've done a fair few thousand kilometres of the east coast now with our two and the dog in tow, mixing free camps and powered sites depending on the week. The free camps that work for families aren't always the prettiest ones on the map. They're the ones where I don't spend the whole evening one eye on the kids and one eye on the river bank.

What I'm actually checking before we commit

Before we turn off the highway I want three things confirmed, not guessed at: legal status, a reasonable stay limit, and whether the ground itself is going to work for us. That last one gets skipped by a lot of first-timers. A free camp can be perfectly legit and still be a bad fit — steep river banks, no shade until 4pm, gravel that shreds bare feet, or a boat ramp car park doing double duty as the camp area with utes reversing trailers in at dusk.

I've written before about reading the noticeboard properly (see reading a council noticeboard: the free camp rules hiding in plain sight) because the signage at the entrance is where councils tell you the actual rules, not the rules the app or the Facebook group told you six months ago. Stay limits change. A site that was 48 hours last year might be 24 hours now because the council's had complaints about generators running past 9pm. Read the sign every time, even if you've camped there before.

Finding them in the first place

WikiCamps and CamperMate are the obvious starting point and they're fine, but the reviews skew toward solo travellers and retirees who don't care if there's a playground. I cross-check against the local visitor information centre website and, where I can, a phone call. A five-minute call to the Roma or the Charleville visitor centre has told me more about current water levels and mosquito situations than a hundred app reviews written eighteen months ago.

Council websites themselves are underrated. Most regional councils now publish a camping or "conservation reserve" list with the actual bylaw reference, which matters more than it sounds — a camp governed under a Crown Lands reserve has different rules to one under a straight council local law, and the difference shows up in things like dog access and fire bans. If in doubt, ring the council's ranger line, not the customer service switchboard; rangers know which sites actually get patrolled and which don't.

The family-specific checklist

Once I've confirmed a site is legal and within a sensible drive for the day, here's what actually decides whether we stop:

Flat ground, not just level enough for the van. A site can be level enough for the jockey wheel and still be hopeless for kids — sloped enough that a bike rolls, or littered with the sort of gravel that ends every game of cricket in a skinned knee. I walk the site on foot before I commit the van to it.

Toilet distance and type. Long-drop, no worries, but I want to know it's within 50 metres and not down an embankment, because my youngest will not make announcements with any notice. If it's a bush-toilet situation with no facility at all, that's a different conversation with the kids about digging a hole properly, well back from the water and the camp — the same etiquette that keeps sites open for the next family, which I've covered separately when it comes to grey water and bush toileting generally.

Water access. Rivers and dams look great in photos and are exactly where a tired kid or an off-lead dog can come unstuck fast. I want to know the bank gradient and whether there's a current, not just whether the camp is "on the river."

Other campers already there. This sounds obvious but it changes everything. A free camp with three other family rigs already set up is a completely different proposition to one with a single ute and swag fifty metres into the bush. Not because solo campers are a problem — most are lovely, and plenty are older blokes who'll happily lend you a mallet — but because a camp with other kids already there means my two have someone to run around with and I get twenty minutes to actually cook dinner.

The generator and noise question

Free camps run hot on generator noise, and with kids trying to sleep by 7.30pm it matters more to us than it might to a couple without kids. Most council-run free camps have generator curfews written on the noticeboard, typically something like 8am to 8pm, sometimes tighter. I treat that as gospel and expect other campers to as well, though I'll admit not everyone reads the sign. If we roll into a camp and the generator situation already sounds like a chorus by 3pm, that's often my cue to keep driving to the next one rather than have the argument at 9pm.

The stay-limit trap

The single biggest mistake I see families make — because I made it myself in year one — is treating the posted stay limit as a suggestion. Most free camps run 24 or 48 hours, some council reserves stretch to 72, and a handful of the big regional ones (Charleville's Bradley's Gully being one locals mention often) run longer under specific local arrangements. Overstaying isn't just a fines risk, though it is that too under most local government acts; it's also what gets free camps shut down entirely when councils get enough complaints. If you want to stay longer than the posted limit, the honest move is to find a nearby low-cost caravan park for a night or two, then come back. We've done that loop through a few Queensland river towns and it works fine.

This is where the free camp versus paid park decision comes back into play properly — I've gone through the actual trade-offs with kids in the van in more detail in caravan park or free camp: how to actually decide with kids in the van, and the short version is that a jumping pillow and a hot shower at 7am are sometimes worth the thirty-five bucks, especially after four nights of dry camping with two kids who haven't had a proper wash.

Dump points and water, sorted before you arrive, not after

Nothing ruins a nice free camp faster than realising on day two that your grey tank is full and the nearest dump point is 40km back the way you came. I plan dump points into the route before we leave, not as an afterthought, and I always check the point itself before using it rather than assuming it's set up the way the last one was — grate size, hose reach, and whether it's actually rated for a caravan cassette versus just a motorhome outlet all vary more than people expect. We've covered exactly what to check in reading a dump point before you use it: the checks most tourers skip, and it's worth five minutes before you connect anything.

Water's the other one. Free camps rarely have potable water, and the ones that claim to sometimes don't when you actually turn the tap on. We travel with enough onboard that we're never relying on a free camp tap, and I'd rather arrive with full tanks and leave with them half empty than gamble on a sign that hasn't been updated since the last drought.

The etiquette that keeps camps open for the next family

Free camps close because of behaviour, not overuse. Rubbish left behind, generators running all night, dogs off lead near other families' camps, grey water tipped straight onto the ground near a river. Every one of those is a small thing that, multiplied by enough campers, gets a council reserve fenced off for good. I've watched two decent free camps on the NSW mid-north coast get shut in the last few years and it's always the same story on the noticeboard afterwards: "due to ongoing antisocial behaviour and rubbish dumping."

My honestly slightly unpopular opinion here: I think free campers are often too precious about "first in, best dressed" spacing and not precious enough about noise and rubbish, which are the two things that actually get camps closed. Nobody's ever lost a free camp because someone parked a bit close. Plenty have been lost because someone left a nappy bag under a tree.

A realistic week of mixing it up

On a typical stretch — say the run north through the Gulf towns toward Karumba, which we've done as part of a longer loop through the Savannah Way: Cairns to the Kimberley — we'll do two nights free camping, one night in a powered park for washing and a shower without rationing, then back to free camping. The kids don't mind either way as long as there's somewhere to run and, ideally, another kid to run with. The dog minds less than any of us. He's happy wherever the shade is.

None of this is complicated once you've done it a dozen times. It just takes longer to explain than it does to actually do, standing at the entrance to a camp reading the sign while the kids ask how much longer until we stop.