Blow a Brown Dog off its Chain

When you are snug and secure in your own home, the weather is fairly unimportant. Travelling, and especially camping, makes you extremely conscious of even minute changes. The past three days have been delightful, warm and sunny until now when I was told that it is windy enough to blow a brown dog off its chain. I've never heard the expression before. Is it a South Australian thing or have I just been talking to someone with a talent for words?

From Friday through till Tuesday morning, I stayed in Port Lincoln. Two nights were spent in a caravan park only steps away from the water. It is quite a large park, with perhaps 30 cabins, 50 powered sites and a large unpowered area which I mentioned in my Unanswered Questions blog. Around me were the usual mix of tents and campers. Once again there was a cyclist, this time from Switzerland, planning to ride completely around Australia in twelve months. As he has only come (only!!) from Melbourne so far, it looks to me as though he will be in Darwin by the middle of the wet season. But who am I to discourage anyone! I wish him luck.

Friday night I stopped in a motorhome parking area. A woman at the information centre was very definite that it was for motorhomes only. I pointed out that it was the Campervan and Motorhome Association (which I belong to) that negotiated with councils for parking areas and I left her to draw the conclusion that perhaps she was wrong. However, I did drive up to look at it and it definitely said that it was for motorhomes only. I can justify my existence in a place like that. After all I am in a motor and for the moment it is my home, ergo a motorhome. Unfortunately the sign was very specific, no caravans, campervans or tents and I really have to class myself as a small campervan, not a micro motorhome.

She suggested a free camp called Fishery Bay which she told me was on a good dirt road and a nice quiet area. That was half right. It was not a good road, very potholed in places but it was quiet. It was so quiet that there was only one other person there, a long term camper with a stack of lobster pots and a dog as big as a shetland pony. I braved the bad road again and went back to town. Feeling like a criminal, I had dinner in town and waited till after dark and crept out to the parking area, where I squeezed myself in among several caravans (yes, lawbreakers!) and motorhomes. I even woke early and left while the dew was still on my windscreen. That's when I booked into the caravan park.


During the next days, as well as visiting a winery and a museum and a very well stocked Aboriginal Art Centre, I found another area also designated motorhome parking. It looked a little more secluded, with one rig already set up there.  I think it is important to have more than one person parking even in an approved area, just for safety and security. So I conveniently parked my conscience and my van there ovenight. I was actually doing a civic service.


I pottered northward along  the gulf today. After a good hour on the road I called in to Tumby Bay and then stopped at Arno Bay for lunch - just a coffee and a muffin. I had a huge plate of veges last night and I don't want to overdo the healthy eating bit. I might get a taste for real meals. I have once again settled into a small caravan park, quite near the ferry that I've booked on for tomorrow. There are a lot of permanent or long term caravanners here. I was invited to join a big group tonight having a bbq to celebrate the owner's birthday. I don't think I will bother. I can't believe I even said that!  Me, the Silver Socialite! But it is windy and it is cold and I've put my bedsocks on. I really don't want to socialise with a big group who all know each other. It's not like going to a Toastmasters meeting or a Red Hatters lunch where I have a common interest. I know it wouldn't be a problem. I can fit into any group but I am going to be unsociable tonight.