This was it! The beginning of the big trek across the Nullabor Plain. We had to make a stop in Ceduna to make a couple of calls, and check the internet. We stopped just near the beach. While I battled to get the computer going, an Aboriginal man came up to say hi (people do this all the time; since a caravan, a boat and a troop carrier tend to have a few good stories to tell – especially if Darren is telling them). The man’s name was Max Bryant and came from Yalata, an indigenous town on the Yalata Aboriginal land on the Nullabor. He gave Darren a lesson in his language – which was fascinating, and D wrote down a few of the words – though the spelling probably leaves a lot to be desired!
kangaroo – sister
balya – (it’s) all good / thanks for talking with me
coora – terrible
coda – big brother
marlen – younger brother
maroogoo – brother-in-law
why bala – White fella
waloo badaa – white woman
hooa – that’s right
wirro goodoo – Bye
He later asked for a lift back to his town 200 kms away, as he had been visiting Ceduna for a wedding. We are chockers so were unable to give him a lift comfortably that far, but we wished him well, and very well pleased with the meeting whichwe felt gave us a little bit more of what Australia is really about, we left Ceduna.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Tuesday 19 January Streaky Bay town and a shower revolution
Because we had to grapple with insurance people, we drove into Streaky Bay to send emails and make telephone calls.
Streaky Bay has a main street with shops going down to the bay, which has a long jetty, at the end of which, two yachts were moored. On the sea front there is a hotel with a drinking area looking out over the bay, and rooms with verandas along the first floor with great views. The bay is very sheltered with a small beach, so there was little wind. The town and its hotel seemed a really beautiful and serene place to stay for the night. Ah Well.
For us camping folk we were most excited to see that it had two IGA supermarkets (usually one is a bonus), and even better, a Mitre 10 hardware store.
There I found a camping shower pump which runs off the battery of a car. I had been wanting to buy one. Now we could fill a bucket with the solar heated water, and then it could be pumped out so that we were no longer crouching under the smallest shower nozzle, but could stand, with proper pumped water splashing down on us. Believe me, pretty exciting stuff! After much deliberation and wandering around Mitre 10 for inspiration, we decided to buy a piece of plastic piping and put a stopper on one end to make into the water container. This would mean the least amount of water would be wasted when it got towards the bottom of the container, as the pump must be fully immersed at all times so a narrow container would be much better than a wide bucket.
We rushed back to heat water in our solar shower (see previous blog about showers…) then transferred the hot water into the upstanding plastic pipe. It was a showering revolution! Hot water splashed out, rather than the dribble we had had before. The temptation was to stay in too long, but with Darren generously saying taking as long as you like, I kept a firm eye on the level of water in the pipe, so I didn’t hog it all – though boy, did I want to.
Streaky Bay has a main street with shops going down to the bay, which has a long jetty, at the end of which, two yachts were moored. On the sea front there is a hotel with a drinking area looking out over the bay, and rooms with verandas along the first floor with great views. The bay is very sheltered with a small beach, so there was little wind. The town and its hotel seemed a really beautiful and serene place to stay for the night. Ah Well.
For us camping folk we were most excited to see that it had two IGA supermarkets (usually one is a bonus), and even better, a Mitre 10 hardware store.
There I found a camping shower pump which runs off the battery of a car. I had been wanting to buy one. Now we could fill a bucket with the solar heated water, and then it could be pumped out so that we were no longer crouching under the smallest shower nozzle, but could stand, with proper pumped water splashing down on us. Believe me, pretty exciting stuff! After much deliberation and wandering around Mitre 10 for inspiration, we decided to buy a piece of plastic piping and put a stopper on one end to make into the water container. This would mean the least amount of water would be wasted when it got towards the bottom of the container, as the pump must be fully immersed at all times so a narrow container would be much better than a wide bucket.
We rushed back to heat water in our solar shower (see previous blog about showers…) then transferred the hot water into the upstanding plastic pipe. It was a showering revolution! Hot water splashed out, rather than the dribble we had had before. The temptation was to stay in too long, but with Darren generously saying taking as long as you like, I kept a firm eye on the level of water in the pipe, so I didn’t hog it all – though boy, did I want to.
Monday night 18 Jan - in which the boat and engine get separated and are SUNK
Good grief, as we hadn’t had enough excitement the day before.
We had a lovely day on Monday, we went for a walk on the beach, Darren swam and snorkelled, we collected shells, Darren went for a potter in the boat, and I finished my book that I had been reading since before Christmas – A Tale of Two Cities. All was so much better with the world, though I disappointingly did not have a black eye from my run in with the annex pole the evening before.
Darren decided to leave his boat on the beach overnight. The beach had a shallow incline which went steeper just at the high tide mark. I asked him a couple of times if he was sure about this, but he wanted to get started early in the morning with a good fishing expedition so he was happy to do that.
At about 2 o’clock a.m. he awakened me and was listening to the usually quiet waves crashing onto the beach. He leapt up in a moment, grabbed the torch and some clothes and ran from the caravan saying he was off to check on the boat. My eyes stayed wide open in the dark, listening to the waves. They did not seem any louder or more aggressive than the night before, but it transpired that Darren had slept through that night, and had not heard the high tide that time. After a while I realised he had been gone really quite a long time. I thought he had left the boat just near the camp. I decided to wait another 10 minutes. It was now 2.30 a.m. Now I was worried, visions of him being caught under the boat with waves washing over him, came to mind, which was not very reassuring.
I had no torch. I knew however that there was a magnetic light stuck to the inside roof of the car. Darren had also shown me a laser light he had been given, which was in the glove box. It can shine very very far, so I thought I could get that and shine it towards where the boat was, so he could at least flash his light in reply. I stumbled around and found the keys to the car, opened the car and tried to turn on the light. It didn’t work. I went back in the caravan and found a head light that barely worked, with that I found the laser light in the car. I was just closing the car door, now in quite a lather as he had not appeared, when I saw a light coming for the direction of the beach, and Darren came up to the car. His first words to me were “ the boat sank and the motor came of it, and I had to pull them out” I immediately felt his jacket, which was not wet, and I burst into tears with relief.
My relief of course gave way to anger pretty quickly, telling him my adventures and worries that night, and hauling him into the caravan to get warm.
Apparently he had not left the boat where I had thought, but completely a different direction, quite some way down the beach, where he hoped to launch it in the morning. Unfortunately the tide had come in rather further than he expected, and the boat had launched its self rather earlier than anticipated. When he had got to where the boat had been there was nothing to be seen, until he saw in the gloom the hull of the boat, upside down in the (actually fairly gentle, but dumpy) surf. When he managed to grab it and turn it over, there was no motor. He eventually saw it, also in the waves, and had to pull it out of the water and try to empty it of water and sand. He had left it by the boat, now much higher than the tide line, and come home.
What a drama! Good grief, never a dull moment. Darren was quite shocked from his adventures, and also cold, so was not able to sleep immediately. We both talked for sometime, me very happy that we had insurance, and he happy he had at least rescued the boat. The engine, he knew, had had it.
We had a lovely day on Monday, we went for a walk on the beach, Darren swam and snorkelled, we collected shells, Darren went for a potter in the boat, and I finished my book that I had been reading since before Christmas – A Tale of Two Cities. All was so much better with the world, though I disappointingly did not have a black eye from my run in with the annex pole the evening before.
Darren decided to leave his boat on the beach overnight. The beach had a shallow incline which went steeper just at the high tide mark. I asked him a couple of times if he was sure about this, but he wanted to get started early in the morning with a good fishing expedition so he was happy to do that.
At about 2 o’clock a.m. he awakened me and was listening to the usually quiet waves crashing onto the beach. He leapt up in a moment, grabbed the torch and some clothes and ran from the caravan saying he was off to check on the boat. My eyes stayed wide open in the dark, listening to the waves. They did not seem any louder or more aggressive than the night before, but it transpired that Darren had slept through that night, and had not heard the high tide that time. After a while I realised he had been gone really quite a long time. I thought he had left the boat just near the camp. I decided to wait another 10 minutes. It was now 2.30 a.m. Now I was worried, visions of him being caught under the boat with waves washing over him, came to mind, which was not very reassuring.
I had no torch. I knew however that there was a magnetic light stuck to the inside roof of the car. Darren had also shown me a laser light he had been given, which was in the glove box. It can shine very very far, so I thought I could get that and shine it towards where the boat was, so he could at least flash his light in reply. I stumbled around and found the keys to the car, opened the car and tried to turn on the light. It didn’t work. I went back in the caravan and found a head light that barely worked, with that I found the laser light in the car. I was just closing the car door, now in quite a lather as he had not appeared, when I saw a light coming for the direction of the beach, and Darren came up to the car. His first words to me were “ the boat sank and the motor came of it, and I had to pull them out” I immediately felt his jacket, which was not wet, and I burst into tears with relief.
My relief of course gave way to anger pretty quickly, telling him my adventures and worries that night, and hauling him into the caravan to get warm.
Apparently he had not left the boat where I had thought, but completely a different direction, quite some way down the beach, where he hoped to launch it in the morning. Unfortunately the tide had come in rather further than he expected, and the boat had launched its self rather earlier than anticipated. When he had got to where the boat had been there was nothing to be seen, until he saw in the gloom the hull of the boat, upside down in the (actually fairly gentle, but dumpy) surf. When he managed to grab it and turn it over, there was no motor. He eventually saw it, also in the waves, and had to pull it out of the water and try to empty it of water and sand. He had left it by the boat, now much higher than the tide line, and come home.
What a drama! Good grief, never a dull moment. Darren was quite shocked from his adventures, and also cold, so was not able to sleep immediately. We both talked for sometime, me very happy that we had insurance, and he happy he had at least rescued the boat. The engine, he knew, had had it.
Sun 17th January, – a ‘butter-side-down’ day….Kyancutta to Tractor Beach, Streaky Bay (309 Kms)
Today we saw a sign by the road proclaiming, “The Eyre Peninsula, where the Journey is part of the Experience”. Part of the Experience? Today, it was all the experience we could handle…
After a night waking Darren with anxious ‘what was that?’s, and the trucks passing the caravan, sounding as though they were going to drive through the caravan, we blearily got up to continue on. I happily wandered to the toilet block, only to discover it had become a refuge for hundreds of mossies during the night, so somewhat disgruntled, I walked back, got the can of ‘mossie murder’, and did my worst.
We had decided to drive to Elliston which is just North West of Kyuncutta on the coast. We would then make our way up the coast, which was meant to be very pretty, and try and find somewhere to stay near Streaky Bay for a few days before we tackled the Nullabor. So far we had stayed in a brown grassed dust bowl (Germein Gorge), and a road side stop. I needed sleep and was beginning to feel decidedly crabby and unimpressed. Coming from a warm, centrally heated house in England, with log fires every night and hot baths available, the road to the Nullabor looked like a bit of a slog. I know, this will horrify you who are tramping to work every day, or who are stressed out and the idea of the wide open road just has you salivating, but just occasionally all is not well on the road to paradise.
Anyway, that aside, we jumped into the car, after the usual pack up, and followed our first stretch, this side of Christmas, of unpaved road down to Elliston. There we indulged in pies and walked to look at the really beautiful, sheltered Waterloo Bay. It had a couple of islands just in front of it, which kept the beach pretty wind free. However we needed to press on, and there was a bay just North of here called Anxious Bay that I had decided had to be the place for me, so the plan was to head there, get a photo and carry on.
On the way we saw a sign for Sculptures by the Sea, apparently on Elliston cliff drive, which we eventually found, after missing the turning. They included a giant pair of thongs on the cliff, and smaller versions of the Easter Island heads looking out to sea. These were definitely my favourite. After seeing the film ‘Night at the Museum’ I could not resist having my photo taken with a relative of ‘Dum Dum, me want Gum Gum’. The sculptures were cleverly called ‘Headland’ by Thomas Tesselaar.
The drive was rather longer than we thought, it felt like 20Kms and took us back further down the road from where we had come, so we needed to follow our own tracks again. It was still the road to Anxious Bay, so we confidently followed it. It went on for about 5kms and then the bitumen just ended at scrub land, with a long beach beside it. Darren had to stop rather suddenly as the end of the road was NOT what we had expected! We were rather bemused, as we had expected the road to take us all the way North, or at least join the main highway. We had a look at the bay (described by Lonely Planet as “anxiety-relieving ocean scenery”)– no sign to photograph with me in the foreground looking suitably anxious – and a drive back the way we came (again!), both in a rather puzzled frame of mind, and certainly not anxiety relieved….
Eventually we were on the proper road again, with the next delights planned from the map being Talia Caves and then Venus Bay with its sheltered beaches.
Talia Caves went without incident, though we actually only got to see one of the caves, which was really a very eroded scoop out of the side of the cliff, making a fantastic place for bats to live, and consequently rather smelly to boot. The enormous smooth flat boulders in front, though, were very impressive with very narrow, deep channels between them where the sea came rushing through to reach the cave at high tide.
We were getting a bit peckish by now, so were looking for a good place for our next stop. The coast all seemed rather barren, and when we got to Venus Bay we realised it was a detour off the main rain, which due to our many detours earlier in the day, we decided to eschew. Next town / hamlet – Port Kenny, just up the road. The map showed it was on the beach so looked promising. Unfortunately the beach was not as promising as we expected, it was actually a long, shallow, wind swept bay.
“Yes”, I thought, “someone really has killed Kenny”.
We found some shacks down by the deserted jetty, and by this time didn’t really care where we ate, so we huddled behind these to get out of the wind, while giant gulls greedily eyed us from the roof above, waiting for titbits. These soon came, as I managed to drop onto the ground, a buttery piece of bread wrong side down while I made lunch. You know how some days just don’t feel right? Well today was a butter-side-down day.
We ate lunch looking at the back of the shack, just beneath the rusty electricity boxes and other rusting metal dumped behind it. If we peeked around the corner we could see the sea and a jetty going out to it, but also got a blast of wind with enough sand in to exfoliate the face to a shine.
After lunch Darren entertained himself filming the gulls eating the bread. He put down his camera while videoing, then put the bread in front of it. This is one of his ways of luring unsuspecting wildlife into his many homemade nature movies – look out, they will be coming to a home near you when we get back, believe me David Attenborough has an ardent follower.
We thought that Port Kenny could have really have no redeeming features, however, needing petrol, we stopped on the road where the lonesome independent petrol station stood, overlooking the windswept bay. It was quite the nicest petrol station we had been to. Homey wooden tables were at the entrance of the shop, proper curtains at the windows, and good cooking smells came from further within. Information about the area, and pictures of fishing triumphs lined the walls, and the front entrance lead to a wide hallway before another door into the café, so diners did not get blown away when customers came in. They also had very clean toilets; it was an oasis! When I met Darren back at the car, he was delighted to tell me they had also shown him jars of scorpions they had caught, so large that the jars were lying down flat to accommodate them. Apparently one had been found under their back door mat. This he told me as we drove out – information I was pretty happy I didn’t know, when I had ventured into their toilets…
The next task was to get up to the Streaky Bay area and nab ourselves a cheap camp spot. The day felt like it had gone on quite long enough. There were quite a few sites listed in our Camps 5 book about 30 kms or so away from Streaky Bay, but all were off the beaten track, so we needed to take a few detours to choose one. There looked like a good spot at Sceale Bay, so I put in the coordinates on the GPS (this after we had already missed the turning once and had to turn back), and we started bumping along the unsealed road.
We came to a T junction, the GPS said turn left, and my map said turn right…we turned left. I was quiet for a while then was compelled to speak up, by my estimation we were heading down a peninsula where there was a sea lion colony (fantastic), but the opposite direction to the camp spot (not so fantastic). We stopped. I checked I had entered the coordinates correctly, which I thankfully had, so with a cry of “the coordinates never lie!” from Darren , we continued. The further we went, as we strated to have sea either side of us on the peninsula, the more I KNEW we were wrong. Fortunately our GPS allows us to move the road forward on its display to see where the final destination is. I moved it further and further ahead of Darren’s driving. Eventually the GPS directed us off the road, across scrubland, and into the sea, where it stopped, showing the usual chequered flag for our destination.
Hmm, the coordinates weren’t lying, they were just incorrect. We turned back.
The car was pretty quiet.
We went past the T junction and headed the other way. After driving past it twice we found the Sceale Bay camp site. We drove around it once, it had the tick of approval in our book, which meant that the authors of the book had been there and found it particularly good, so we were quite optimistic. We drove around it again. As we drove around the music from ‘Deliverance’ came to mind – diddle eee dee, dee dee, bing-bang-bongggggg. There were a group of travellers under a corrugated plastic lean-to, enjoying the shade, by their open car, who gave a wave - but we kept on drivin’.
Through the town, where a few of the locals were having a drink on a verandah and gave us a cheery wave, then watched as we went to look at the very pretty beach ( maybe we should stay here? Maybe we should? Maybe we shouldn’t?...
We were loosing our capacity for decision making, but eventually we turned from Sceale bay and were watched from various verandas and balconies as we left.
So now where?
Back to the map with the coordinates that never lie, and I saw a loop road a bit further on that had a couple of potential camp sites on it. I diligently enter the coordinates of the second place, that looks the most promising. We completely miss the turning of the 1st place, missing the turn off for the loop, however therefore reach the 2nd place before we know it, though we had to hunt to find the small track to it.
The place is fabulous! Hooray! I couldn’t quite believe that we had found such a great spot. Just behind the sand dunes of a long pale beach, the tide went out over shallow rocks quite far, making Darren hope for abalone and crayfish plunder. It was quite frankly, a relief.
Surely our fortunes had turned, and we put up our caravan, then Darren started to put up the new annex we had arranged to be made while we were in Melbourne, out of wind break material. I started to help him, though by this time I was even more tired, and pretty wiped out. My job was to hold 2 of the metal bars while Darren pegged another into the ground. Somewhere along the line somehow something was let go of somewhere, and one of the poles came crashing down on the side of my head narrowly missing my eye. That was IT! I was DONE! It really hurt and when Darren was eventually allowed to take a look – “No, you CAN’T look, it hurts TOO MUCH”, he saw, and I felt, a very large bump just millimetres above my left eye.
That really topped off our day and made me feel that the bread, butter and jam had landed the wrong way on the ground. I wiped a bleary tear awy from my tender eye and, as the song says, ‘the only way is up’ – so it was just a …. of letting the day wash past and look forward to a couple days peaceful rest here and hope I got a black eye.
Which I didn’t.
After a night waking Darren with anxious ‘what was that?’s, and the trucks passing the caravan, sounding as though they were going to drive through the caravan, we blearily got up to continue on. I happily wandered to the toilet block, only to discover it had become a refuge for hundreds of mossies during the night, so somewhat disgruntled, I walked back, got the can of ‘mossie murder’, and did my worst.
We had decided to drive to Elliston which is just North West of Kyuncutta on the coast. We would then make our way up the coast, which was meant to be very pretty, and try and find somewhere to stay near Streaky Bay for a few days before we tackled the Nullabor. So far we had stayed in a brown grassed dust bowl (Germein Gorge), and a road side stop. I needed sleep and was beginning to feel decidedly crabby and unimpressed. Coming from a warm, centrally heated house in England, with log fires every night and hot baths available, the road to the Nullabor looked like a bit of a slog. I know, this will horrify you who are tramping to work every day, or who are stressed out and the idea of the wide open road just has you salivating, but just occasionally all is not well on the road to paradise.
Anyway, that aside, we jumped into the car, after the usual pack up, and followed our first stretch, this side of Christmas, of unpaved road down to Elliston. There we indulged in pies and walked to look at the really beautiful, sheltered Waterloo Bay. It had a couple of islands just in front of it, which kept the beach pretty wind free. However we needed to press on, and there was a bay just North of here called Anxious Bay that I had decided had to be the place for me, so the plan was to head there, get a photo and carry on.
On the way we saw a sign for Sculptures by the Sea, apparently on Elliston cliff drive, which we eventually found, after missing the turning. They included a giant pair of thongs on the cliff, and smaller versions of the Easter Island heads looking out to sea. These were definitely my favourite. After seeing the film ‘Night at the Museum’ I could not resist having my photo taken with a relative of ‘Dum Dum, me want Gum Gum’. The sculptures were cleverly called ‘Headland’ by Thomas Tesselaar.
The drive was rather longer than we thought, it felt like 20Kms and took us back further down the road from where we had come, so we needed to follow our own tracks again. It was still the road to Anxious Bay, so we confidently followed it. It went on for about 5kms and then the bitumen just ended at scrub land, with a long beach beside it. Darren had to stop rather suddenly as the end of the road was NOT what we had expected! We were rather bemused, as we had expected the road to take us all the way North, or at least join the main highway. We had a look at the bay (described by Lonely Planet as “anxiety-relieving ocean scenery”)– no sign to photograph with me in the foreground looking suitably anxious – and a drive back the way we came (again!), both in a rather puzzled frame of mind, and certainly not anxiety relieved….
Eventually we were on the proper road again, with the next delights planned from the map being Talia Caves and then Venus Bay with its sheltered beaches.
Talia Caves went without incident, though we actually only got to see one of the caves, which was really a very eroded scoop out of the side of the cliff, making a fantastic place for bats to live, and consequently rather smelly to boot. The enormous smooth flat boulders in front, though, were very impressive with very narrow, deep channels between them where the sea came rushing through to reach the cave at high tide.
We were getting a bit peckish by now, so were looking for a good place for our next stop. The coast all seemed rather barren, and when we got to Venus Bay we realised it was a detour off the main rain, which due to our many detours earlier in the day, we decided to eschew. Next town / hamlet – Port Kenny, just up the road. The map showed it was on the beach so looked promising. Unfortunately the beach was not as promising as we expected, it was actually a long, shallow, wind swept bay.
“Yes”, I thought, “someone really has killed Kenny”.
We found some shacks down by the deserted jetty, and by this time didn’t really care where we ate, so we huddled behind these to get out of the wind, while giant gulls greedily eyed us from the roof above, waiting for titbits. These soon came, as I managed to drop onto the ground, a buttery piece of bread wrong side down while I made lunch. You know how some days just don’t feel right? Well today was a butter-side-down day.
We ate lunch looking at the back of the shack, just beneath the rusty electricity boxes and other rusting metal dumped behind it. If we peeked around the corner we could see the sea and a jetty going out to it, but also got a blast of wind with enough sand in to exfoliate the face to a shine.
After lunch Darren entertained himself filming the gulls eating the bread. He put down his camera while videoing, then put the bread in front of it. This is one of his ways of luring unsuspecting wildlife into his many homemade nature movies – look out, they will be coming to a home near you when we get back, believe me David Attenborough has an ardent follower.
We thought that Port Kenny could have really have no redeeming features, however, needing petrol, we stopped on the road where the lonesome independent petrol station stood, overlooking the windswept bay. It was quite the nicest petrol station we had been to. Homey wooden tables were at the entrance of the shop, proper curtains at the windows, and good cooking smells came from further within. Information about the area, and pictures of fishing triumphs lined the walls, and the front entrance lead to a wide hallway before another door into the café, so diners did not get blown away when customers came in. They also had very clean toilets; it was an oasis! When I met Darren back at the car, he was delighted to tell me they had also shown him jars of scorpions they had caught, so large that the jars were lying down flat to accommodate them. Apparently one had been found under their back door mat. This he told me as we drove out – information I was pretty happy I didn’t know, when I had ventured into their toilets…
The next task was to get up to the Streaky Bay area and nab ourselves a cheap camp spot. The day felt like it had gone on quite long enough. There were quite a few sites listed in our Camps 5 book about 30 kms or so away from Streaky Bay, but all were off the beaten track, so we needed to take a few detours to choose one. There looked like a good spot at Sceale Bay, so I put in the coordinates on the GPS (this after we had already missed the turning once and had to turn back), and we started bumping along the unsealed road.
We came to a T junction, the GPS said turn left, and my map said turn right…we turned left. I was quiet for a while then was compelled to speak up, by my estimation we were heading down a peninsula where there was a sea lion colony (fantastic), but the opposite direction to the camp spot (not so fantastic). We stopped. I checked I had entered the coordinates correctly, which I thankfully had, so with a cry of “the coordinates never lie!” from Darren , we continued. The further we went, as we strated to have sea either side of us on the peninsula, the more I KNEW we were wrong. Fortunately our GPS allows us to move the road forward on its display to see where the final destination is. I moved it further and further ahead of Darren’s driving. Eventually the GPS directed us off the road, across scrubland, and into the sea, where it stopped, showing the usual chequered flag for our destination.
Hmm, the coordinates weren’t lying, they were just incorrect. We turned back.
The car was pretty quiet.
We went past the T junction and headed the other way. After driving past it twice we found the Sceale Bay camp site. We drove around it once, it had the tick of approval in our book, which meant that the authors of the book had been there and found it particularly good, so we were quite optimistic. We drove around it again. As we drove around the music from ‘Deliverance’ came to mind – diddle eee dee, dee dee, bing-bang-bongggggg. There were a group of travellers under a corrugated plastic lean-to, enjoying the shade, by their open car, who gave a wave - but we kept on drivin’.
Through the town, where a few of the locals were having a drink on a verandah and gave us a cheery wave, then watched as we went to look at the very pretty beach ( maybe we should stay here? Maybe we should? Maybe we shouldn’t?...
We were loosing our capacity for decision making, but eventually we turned from Sceale bay and were watched from various verandas and balconies as we left.
So now where?
Back to the map with the coordinates that never lie, and I saw a loop road a bit further on that had a couple of potential camp sites on it. I diligently enter the coordinates of the second place, that looks the most promising. We completely miss the turning of the 1st place, missing the turn off for the loop, however therefore reach the 2nd place before we know it, though we had to hunt to find the small track to it.
The place is fabulous! Hooray! I couldn’t quite believe that we had found such a great spot. Just behind the sand dunes of a long pale beach, the tide went out over shallow rocks quite far, making Darren hope for abalone and crayfish plunder. It was quite frankly, a relief.
Surely our fortunes had turned, and we put up our caravan, then Darren started to put up the new annex we had arranged to be made while we were in Melbourne, out of wind break material. I started to help him, though by this time I was even more tired, and pretty wiped out. My job was to hold 2 of the metal bars while Darren pegged another into the ground. Somewhere along the line somehow something was let go of somewhere, and one of the poles came crashing down on the side of my head narrowly missing my eye. That was IT! I was DONE! It really hurt and when Darren was eventually allowed to take a look – “No, you CAN’T look, it hurts TOO MUCH”, he saw, and I felt, a very large bump just millimetres above my left eye.
That really topped off our day and made me feel that the bread, butter and jam had landed the wrong way on the ground. I wiped a bleary tear awy from my tender eye and, as the song says, ‘the only way is up’ – so it was just a …. of letting the day wash past and look forward to a couple days peaceful rest here and hope I got a black eye.
Which I didn’t.
Sat 16th January, Germein Gorge to Kyancutta 307 Kms travelled
It was now a case of just getting as close to the Nullabor as possible as quickly as possible, and then having a rest just before we crossed. Germein Gorge is 250 Kms North of Adelaide, but for the first day of driving it had felt a lot further.
Today we needed to buy supplies from Port Augusta, previously visited on our way TO the South coast of SA, so at least we knew where we were going. Then we would travel East from Port Augie across the Eyre Penninsula as far as we could go. I wasn’t sleeping that well, and felt exhausted from my holiday abroad (poor pet), so Darren had to do all the driving so I didn’t endanger us by doing a spot of median strip driving by mistake. As we were driving up to Port Augie (as I like to call it), Darren told me we could have got a ferry across to the Eyre Penninsula, 150 kms North of Adelaide – now he tells me, it would have saved us a few 100 kms, though cost us $100+, I blame myself for not reading around the subject. The highlight of this trip was a discussion as we passed through Kimba, (with it’s giant galah outside the general store), 90 Km to our destination, of whether Kimba was the name of ‘The Lion King’ or not. I have not seen the whole film, but as one of Darren’s favourites he assured me it was. These are the heights of conversation we managed to reach after not seeing each other for 3 weeks. Who says the art of conversation is dead?
That evening we arrived at our free camp spot in Kyancutta. The town seemed to consist of a road, a shop and Polkdinney Park next to the shop, where we camped. The town/hamlet had a few historic artefacts in the park, a scrub roller, water pump, wagon, road grader and Mouldboard plough, also names of the pioneers of the area were engraved on the park posts to commemorate them. There was also a sign depicting the history of the area. So many small towns in Australia have their pride of ‘place’, and historical literature can be found almost everywhere, making even the smallest hamlet interesting to visit. The further off the beaten track, the mors information there seems to be.
Not only did this place have interesting things to look at, it had a clean, four walled, roofed toilet block, which had me more excited than the historical artefacts.
Today we needed to buy supplies from Port Augusta, previously visited on our way TO the South coast of SA, so at least we knew where we were going. Then we would travel East from Port Augie across the Eyre Penninsula as far as we could go. I wasn’t sleeping that well, and felt exhausted from my holiday abroad (poor pet), so Darren had to do all the driving so I didn’t endanger us by doing a spot of median strip driving by mistake. As we were driving up to Port Augie (as I like to call it), Darren told me we could have got a ferry across to the Eyre Penninsula, 150 kms North of Adelaide – now he tells me, it would have saved us a few 100 kms, though cost us $100+, I blame myself for not reading around the subject. The highlight of this trip was a discussion as we passed through Kimba, (with it’s giant galah outside the general store), 90 Km to our destination, of whether Kimba was the name of ‘The Lion King’ or not. I have not seen the whole film, but as one of Darren’s favourites he assured me it was. These are the heights of conversation we managed to reach after not seeing each other for 3 weeks. Who says the art of conversation is dead?
That evening we arrived at our free camp spot in Kyancutta. The town seemed to consist of a road, a shop and Polkdinney Park next to the shop, where we camped. The town/hamlet had a few historic artefacts in the park, a scrub roller, water pump, wagon, road grader and Mouldboard plough, also names of the pioneers of the area were engraved on the park posts to commemorate them. There was also a sign depicting the history of the area. So many small towns in Australia have their pride of ‘place’, and historical literature can be found almost everywhere, making even the smallest hamlet interesting to visit. The further off the beaten track, the mors information there seems to be.
Not only did this place have interesting things to look at, it had a clean, four walled, roofed toilet block, which had me more excited than the historical artefacts.
Jan 15 2010 - On the road again, and the duties of setting up camp
The first three days were spent covering 900 odd kms, from Adelaide to Streaky Bay, which is on the West of the Eyre Peninsula; from there we would get ready for the long drive to WA.
The first day, Friday 15th, was spent driving northwards, covering quite a bit of road we covered on our way South to Victoria from the centre. It was strange being in the car again – checking out all the little improvements Darren had given the car while I was away (including a shelf on which to put all my travel guides, camera, diary and all the other bits of rubbish that used to sit next to me on the seat).
Darren was very excited to be off starting again, but I felt a bit cautious. I had had so many questions from people asking if I was REALLY enjoying myself, and how did I COPE with the flies, mossies, lack of bathing facilities, toilets etc., I was starting to question myself about it. Can I really face another 6 months of this?
Our first night was spent at Germein Gorge. It was a beautiful evening and we arrived at our deserted free camp site as the sun was going down.
Here we go again …
Uncouple the caravan, check it is horizontal, I wind down the stabilisers, Darren winds up the roof. Darren pulls out the bed ends from outside, takes out the clothes box and cooking pot, unfolds the sink and cooker. We push out the canopies over the beds and secure them inside. Darren secures the canopies for the beds outside to prevent small creatures visiting in the night. I put the outdoor table, folded in its box, outside and then put up the kitchen table and make the beds. Darren puts the door in place and puts the clothes box on the fridge. I stop up all the holes with black bin liners and items of Darren’s underwear to prevent a mossie invasion. Then, a sweep out of all the sand and goodness-knows-what we have brought with us from the last place - and we are done!
I am exhausted. Zzzzzzzzz
Next morning, pack up. Darren takes out the clothes box out of the caravan, I dismantle the table and stow its leg under the seat. I unmake the beds and fold the bedding onto the now low table and place the folded outdoor table on top, also unstop any holes with the bags or underwear. Anything needing to go in the car (my bag, the computer etc) is placed by the door, where Darren collects it and puts it in the car. I close the gas hob cover and zip up all windows. Then pull down the canopies over the beds and stow the metal bars holding them up. Darren stows the bars that are holding up the beds from the outside, under the mattresses. Darren then unlatches the door and attaches it to the roof of the caravan. With luck, I remember to do up the skylight, as this can be problematical later. Darren folds down the sink and hob and puts the cooking pot in its place. I undo the canopies over the beds from the outside and place the box of clothes back in the caravan on the door mats and close the small door. Darren pushes in the beds to the centre of the caravan then starts to wind down the roof while we both check the sides are folding in on themselves properly. When he has nearly finished this, I start winding up the stabilisers (clockwise = going forward = going forward with the journey therefore clockwise when we are leaving, anticlockwise when we are setting down). Darren clips the roof in place, he returns the crank for the roof and I return the crank for the stabilisers to the car. He reverses and I direct, then adjust the jockey wheel to the right height so we can couple up. We then each attach a safety chain to the car. One last circle of the caravan, both check the gas has been switched off, and we are ready to go!
This, every day? Good grief how could I not LOVE it???? (And all that rigmarole is without the awning up!) I wanted to go to sleep just writing this, I am surprised you are still reading…
This is why, where we can, we spend 2 nights in a place, unfortunately that is not planned for a couple of days.
To Adelaide January 14th 2010 - we are reunited after a Christmas break (from each other)
So, now I have returned from the Motherland, Darren and I find ourselves together again.
After Christmas Darren broke up the trip from Melbourne to Adelaide by staying with his brother and family for about 10 days, and fishing his socks off. I am happy to report it is some of the best fishing he had done, with masses of kingfish etc, and also bizzarely many videos of seals by the boat too, so I am surprised they caught anything. Still, a fishing Darren is a happy Darren so he had a great time
…. I was in Hong Kong with my sister and family by this time, with the plan for Darren to meet me at Adelaide airport and we would carry on. I left HK for Melbourne on Weds 13 Jan and stayed with Darren’s parents that night.
When I spoke to Darren that night he was already near Adelaide airport at a camp site. I had thought he would arrive in Adelaide on the Thursday, when I did, but he was there early. I asked him what he was going to do after he had been thrown out of the camp site at 10 m., until I arrived at 1. “I will be circling the airport until you arrive, you look out of the window and you will see me below”. Funny, it didn’t sound too far fetched, I was certain there couldn’t be too many cars with a silver boat on its roof towing a match box around Adelaide airport.
Needless to say I wasn’t able to spot him due to my aisle - near - any exit seat. We met up and he surprised me by booking a hotel near the beach for the night. Awwwwww,to enjoy the last luxuries before drop toilets and camp showers.
That evening we saw our first sunset over the sea. Being an East-coaster it is unusual to get the sunset, and we walked around Glenelg, I enjoying the balmy weather at last, surveying the Adelaiders (?) enjoying the evening.
After Christmas Darren broke up the trip from Melbourne to Adelaide by staying with his brother and family for about 10 days, and fishing his socks off. I am happy to report it is some of the best fishing he had done, with masses of kingfish etc, and also bizzarely many videos of seals by the boat too, so I am surprised they caught anything. Still, a fishing Darren is a happy Darren so he had a great time
…. I was in Hong Kong with my sister and family by this time, with the plan for Darren to meet me at Adelaide airport and we would carry on. I left HK for Melbourne on Weds 13 Jan and stayed with Darren’s parents that night.
When I spoke to Darren that night he was already near Adelaide airport at a camp site. I had thought he would arrive in Adelaide on the Thursday, when I did, but he was there early. I asked him what he was going to do after he had been thrown out of the camp site at 10 m., until I arrived at 1. “I will be circling the airport until you arrive, you look out of the window and you will see me below”. Funny, it didn’t sound too far fetched, I was certain there couldn’t be too many cars with a silver boat on its roof towing a match box around Adelaide airport.
Needless to say I wasn’t able to spot him due to my aisle - near - any exit seat. We met up and he surprised me by booking a hotel near the beach for the night. Awwwwww,to enjoy the last luxuries before drop toilets and camp showers.
That evening we saw our first sunset over the sea. Being an East-coaster it is unusual to get the sunset, and we walked around Glenelg, I enjoying the balmy weather at last, surveying the Adelaiders (?) enjoying the evening.
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