Welcome to my travel blog

Hello. My name is Monica and I am a silver gypsy, which sounds classier and more interesting than being a grey nomad.This is an ongoing blog which I usually restart when I hit the road again. It is partly a record of my journeys and partly reflections on issues which arise as I travel.

In 2015 my grandson Cory spent a couple of months travelling with me. The link to his blog is in a sidebar. In 2016 Hudson was my travelling companion. Cooper travelled at the end of 2016. They would love feedback on their blogs. Also in the sidebar is a link to my poetry blog.

Please feel free to read all or any of the blogs. I have discovered that some readers have not been able to Follow or Comment. I would still love to hear from you. You can email feedback to silvergypsy1944@gmail.com.

Wednesday 25 April 2012

Fresh Eyre and Sunshine - the Eyre Peninsula

 As I drove along some long empty roads in the last few days, it struck me how deserted they are and how isolated a driver can be. In some cases it was almost an hour before I saw a vehicle approaching. In my best Kath and Kim impersonation, I wanted to call out ‘Look at moi, look at moi’, wave hysterically and toss streamers or balloons from the car. But what did I do? I raised an index finger laconically from the steering wheel and received a similar acknowledgement from the other driver. In seconds we were out of sight of each other, facing the deserted road again. Contact made! It can be interesting. If someone doesn't wave, I tend not to wave to the next driver who invariably does. So I get back into the swing, waving to  the next car who may or may not acknowledge me. I think there should be a rule that if you are driving east or north, you should raise the index finger first. That frees up the decision making for those travelling west or south.
One of the challenges of living cheaply on the road is finding a good camping site. On my way east from Streaky Bay I detoured twice to look at bush camping. On one road the corrugations were so bad that the fillings dropped out of my teeth before I hit the sandy stretch where I slewed around so wildly that somehow the fillings got thrown back into place. I gave up before I got to the camping spot. (I should have read my Camps book more carefully and I would have known that there is a world of difference between a camp spot and a camp ground.) The next spot I managed to get to but found three small turn-out areas. There were two vans in one, and nothing and nobody else in sight. I gave this one a miss too.
 The previous night I had had a similar experience. I had my Camps Australia book and found what seemed like a good spot a few kilometres south of Streaky Bay. I followed the signs, found a small settlement but with no sign of the toilets and showers promised in the book. Going on a bit, finally I found the sign to the bay I was looking for.  The road was an adventure in itself. Occasionally the track divided into two.  The one I took invariable ended in a soft sandy bog or a washout and I had to reverse to try the other. I don't often (I should say, I don't always) talk to myself but I was questioning my wisdom for quite a while before I had the sense to turn around. Two other tracks failed to take me to a camping area. Then, just as I was about to give up and head for the town again, I saw two vans parked  just off the road and there it was, the sign saying this was free camping. When I went to the other drivers and inquired where I should get my certificate for finding the place, it turned out that they were also expecting some reward. Two other rigs arrived shortly and we had quite a comfortable stay. There was a toilet, a hybrid which I have got used to. There was a shower, a hose hanging under an almost empty tank. There was also a great sense of camaradie as we all set up and then shared a drink. The view along the way had been worth detouring for but it took a while before peace of mind kicked in.
Elliston Child Care Centre
Along this stretch of the road, there are really very few camping grounds (as distinct from camping spots) so I have been forced into a caravan park for three nights. As it happens, it is one of the few that I have seen that caters for solo travellers. At $20 a night, it is not much more than some of the camping spots which often charge $10 plus a permit for camping in a national park or conservation area.
 I am in Elliston which calls itself the Salmon Capital of Australia. It certainly seems to be a fisherman's paradise as most campers here come just for the fishing. They go out for a couple of hours and come back with a dozen or so fish, many of which they give away so they can make room in their fridge for the ones they are going to catch tomorrow. 


I stood on the jetty for ages waiting to see a small penguin that people had told me about. Then I thought I saw it on the rocks and watched intently for ages so that I'd know when it was swimming towards me for a photo. But when it flapped  its wings and flew off, I gave up on it! Who wants a flying penguin! I went for a drive along the cliffs to look at some sculptures which survive the ravages of the wind and rain with varying degrees of success. Apparently I was too early for this year's new sculptures but it was interesting to see the variety of subjects covered. If it doesn't already exist, there should be a law, The Travellers' Law of Local Events and Exhibitions i.e. it happened last week or it won't happen till the day after you leave!
Yesterday my neighbour Marco had been fishing with his young son and, after he had cleaned and filleted his fish, gave me a few fillets of either whiting or tommy ruffs. I am not sure what I had as I have been checking with a few of the fisher folk as they cleaned their catch and the fish look the same to me. I had assumed they were whiting because of the size. Last night I went to the bbq area and cooked them in breadcrumbs. Lovely! I had a few chats with two older fellows in a tent on the other side of me. I was trying to get a peek into their tent to check on the sleeping arrangements as they seemed to disappear into their tent early in the night. However today one of them managed to drop the phrase 'My wife and I' into the conversation about every two minutes of so. Perhaps he could read my mind. This evening I've had happy hour with three groups who have just arrived for up to six weeks camping and fishing. It was probably a good time to meet with them as they will be a tight knit community within a few days, as long time residents.
One lazy soul, thirty steps down to the lookout
Two hardy souls part way down the 284 steps
This is a very quiet little town probably made up equally of residents and campers as both caravan parks are apparently popular for most of the year. There is the usual bakery and cafe, an IGA and not much else. The past two days I have just walked close to home. Today I did the cliff top drive to look at sculptures. These are replaced regularly as most things don't survive nature's force for long. I also went to Lock's Well, the main feature of which is a 284 step staircase to the beach. I could have camped there free as there are two vans that have been there for a fortnight as well a few that have come and gone.

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