Power, a Shower and a Twin-Tub Washer

Just set up at Black Point

The Yorke Peninsula looks like a leg, with a large foot complete with a corn on the big toe, appropriately called Corny Point. I am at Black Point, on the calf of the leg. It is something between a caravan park and a campground. I had to register at a caravan park nearby and pay $15 a night. That gives me power which I don't usually bother with but will make sure everything is fully charged before I leave. There are old but clean toilets, hot showers and a laundry. I think my first flat ever had a twin-tub washing machine so it will be interesting working out again how it operates. At no cost to operate, it is worth washing my jeans which are beginning to stand up by themselves when I take them off. Then I can rinse them in the concrete wash tubs.

I was a bit concerned that this might be an almost deserted camp but there are seven groups here in an area that only holds ten so it is quite cosy. Some are just overnighters and others are here for a few days. I've paid for two nights and will see how I go then. I have rediscovered my need to be near the sea. Bush camping has left me as cold as the rare bush showers. As soon as I see the water, I feel at home. This was how I used to feel when I hit the Hornibrook bridge whenever I'd been away from Redcliffe for any length of time. I must have salt water in my veins.

This is my third night here. Two sets of neighbours (Marion and Harry and Yvonne and Robert) arrived when I did and are both staying on. Two others arrived today after others left. The men and Marion have been fishing and got a few good sized whiting, obviously just enough to feed themselves for one meal as they were out again on the next tide.  It has been a very quiet day around the camp. I went for a walk on the beach again today, not too far or too fast. It is the Toastmasters Convention weekend in Brisbane and I feel a bit left out.  (I know, I left them not the other way around but convention is usually part of my Toastmasters year.) Sue has sent photos already and I have sent a message to Preeta who has worked all year as Convention Convenor and won't relax till the weekend is over.

Black Point is like many small beachside towns. Along the beach, right at the edge of the high tide are a number of shacks made with a variety of materials. These were probably squatters who came here for the fishing. Behind them along the top are some flash homes and rental units and houses and further along quite a few big houses that look as though they may have permanent occupants, as people realised that the owners of the shacks had found a beautiful place to live.  There seems to have been a competition to name the properties. There is The Butcher's Block, complete with illustration, Warren's Warren, Hawke's Nest, Black Point Hilton etc. There are also official road signs warning, Slow Down. Cars Appear from Nowhere and Kids Don't Bounce but Their Angry Parents Do and If You Crash Here, It Takes 20 Minutes For an Ambulance to Come.

I had expected to drive south and most of the way round the peninsula tomorrow but have scaled it down after talking to Wendy and Tom. They have a motor home with a closed trailer (I don't know what else to call it - mobile garage? skeleton caravan?) for their snazzy trike. They rode (triked?) around today and felt that they wouldn't have missed much if they had cut their ride short. So in the morning I will go as far as Port Vincent on the east coast then zigzag across to Stansbury and up the west coast, probably finishing at Maitland overnight which has a free camp area right opposite the hospital.

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.

Images of South Australia

Tantanoola Caves

Christine's Doll Collection, Port Lincoln

Kangaroos in Town, Coffin Bay

The Whyalla

Oyster Farm Coffin Bay

Wedding Cake, Tantanoola Caves

National Park Lookout, Coffin Bay

Australian Farmer Memorial, Wuddina

High Cliff, south of Streaky Bay

Adelaide

Glenelg

Adelaide

Cleaning fish, with hopeful viewers

Port Lincoln

Playing Ladies

Once I settled into the caravan park in Elliston, put up my awning and set out my table and chairs, I had a couple of days just to rest and ramble. Unsurprisingly I wandered around the very small town and checked out the coffee shop and the bakery. Decisions! Decisions!

I had lunch at the cafe one day and shared a table with a couple of the local ladies who were part way through their daily walk for fitness, stopping for sustenance along the day. They said that sometimes there were a whole stack of them walking, six or seven when they were all there and they spread out right across the road. I thought that was a pretty safe place to be most of the time.

Eventually I settled on the bakery where they do a good business and have the people skills to bring their customers back. On my second visit, Ros knew my order and just about had it ready for me. By the third day, I was a regular for brunch. Ilona was interested in my van and talked with me (oh well, listened to me) about my travels. They deserve to have a good business. If they are so friendly with people who will be gone in a few days, they must have a very loyal clientele. And they do have the best vanilla  slices in the southern hemisphere - or maybe in Australia - or at the very least, in South Australia. I am a connoisseur. You can trust me on this!

From the lookout

Sunset, Coffin Bay from Kay's verandah

My hostess Kay in Coffin Bay

Baby Jumpers for Zambia Mission

Still playing ladies, I went on to Coffin Bay where I had arranged to meet Red Hat Queen Kay at her home for coffee. I ended up camping in her driveway when we had talked into the night. I will add Kay to my People of the Journey South Australia which I update regularly with some of the fascinating people I have met along the way. Kay's husband is at a mission in Zambia at the moment so I passed my knitted baby jumpers to Kay. (For those who donated wool to get me started on this project, I have attached a photo of the almost finished products, some needing to be stitched up but the knitting completed.) The big diaappointment with Coffin Bay was to find out that Matthew Flinders named it after his friend Isaac Coffin, a naval officer. I had imagined a more macabre origin to the name of the bay.

Christine, Oriel and another Red Hat doll

As they say, too much of a good thing is never enough. Today I drove across the peninsula, about 70km, to Port Lincoln where I met up with the Lincoln ladies for their Red Hat get-together. It was hosted by Christine who showed her collection of more than 600 dolls, including all her own from her childhood. The photo show Christine with Queen Rose (Oriel) and in the background, the Red Hatter doll that Christine had made.

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.

1500 Hits

Thank you to all my faithful followers who have chalked up 1500 hits to my blog. I think I have finally got everything up to date but will check again right from the beginning. I expect to be sitting around for a few days so, as long as I have internet coverage, I'll check all my blogs. I have just got to the coast again in time for wet weather to start. Since leaving Adelaide, I have overnighted at Dublin beach and Port Augusta (both free camps) and am now moving down the Eyre Peninsula in the rain.


I know when to come in out of the rain. It is bucketing down, almost like a north Queensland downpour. Tonight I am staying at a motel in Tumby Bay. I have showered (and after two days, I really needed that), washed my hair, rinsed out some clothes and turned the heater on in the bathroom to dry them. I have the TV on in the sitting room. The owner put it on for me, so I've just turned off the sound and will turn it up for the news and weather - saves remembering what to do! I've sent off some emails, had a coffee and read a bit of my book. Having updated this blog and checked the new photo of Oscar on Facebook, I will put my feet up and doze. Life is tough!!

Adelaide

University Building

I have just moved on from Adelaide - too busy while I was there to write. I had planned to stay at Brownhill Caravan Park as there is no free camping near the city. I was told there was a bus stop close by. I think that person must be a long range hiker! The bus stop was at least a kilometre from the park office and another km at least from the unpowered sites. As I was planning to visit some Toastmasters clubs and get back late at night, I didn't appreciate the thought of that walk in the dark at night.

I found the closest park to town, Levi park. I don't expect city caravan parks to be cheap so wasn't surprised to have to pay $35 a night. I always ask for a solo's rate and occasionally I get a slight reduction. This time I had to pay full price, the same as a couple so made sure that I at least had a hot shower night and morning to get some value from my tariff. As it happened I had a good spot among the tent sites at the back of the park with the River Torrens trickling by in the gully below. At the front gate, less than 200m from my van was a bus to the city, free between 9.30am and 3pm for old folk!

 

Catholic Cathedral

Now, 9.30 seems a respectable hour to go into the city but of course I had to pay to come home. During the day I was able to hop on and off buses and trams and see most of the city. I did actually walk the 3.5km city scenic circuit at least once and covered a lot of ground in the shopping malls, especially the Rundle Mall and the Central markets. There was plenty happening in the city as it is still school holidays and the weather was very enticing for tourists.

Mary MacKillop
 at Adelaide Cathedral

Rundle Mall

Court House

Part of University of Adelaide

The Intercontinental Hotel
where I didn't stay!

Railway Station and Casino

One day I jumped a tram and spent a few hours at Glenelg, the closest beach. It is very much holiday oriented with lots of kids activities, water sports and food outlets. A tram arrives from the city every 15 minutes and continues almost to the jetty. The weather was fine and hot and a walk on the jetty was refreshing. I shouted myself to a prawn skewer for lunch.

I managed to fit in two Toastmasters meetings in my three nights in Adelaide. Both were right in town and I asked someone to drop me back at my bus stop afterwards. There are dozens of bus stops and I hopped off anywhere along the way to town. To return in the dark, I only knew the one outside the railway station, so I used that to be sure I'd get home. I enjoyed both meetings and was lucky enough to be put on the program for both. What surprised me was the fact that, with a couple of notable exceptions, I had to introduce myself to the members as they did not approach me with a welcome. Are my clubs like that? I don't think so but will really have to look at guests welcomes when I get home. It might be time to have a Mystery Toastmaster again - with a fine for anyone who didn't greet that person during the night. The Mystery Toastmaster could be a member or guest, just to remind members that we are in the business of communication - with members and with potential members and guests.

The other important business in Adelaide was to see a physiotherapist. I must have poor driving posture as I waas very stiff and sore and every muscle was tight. I went to a physio centre on Tuesday and Thursday and had a good massage from Tom who specialises in sports injury - so it must have been a shock to work on my flabby body - though I am sure my muscles were as tight as anybody's. On Wednesday, not content with allowing my body to heal slowly, I went to another physio. The centre must have been registered as it is accredited by health funds but I have my doubts about my individual physio. I was pummelled and kneaded like a loaf of bread and came out worse than I went in. When I said he was too rough, my masseur just said that's what deep tissue massage is all about. However, even I know there is no deep tissue between the spine and the skin and he gave that area a good working over. The next day, I couldn't bear to have Tom touch my lower back so that was a bit of a waste. However, my neck and shoulders feel good again and I will be more conscious of my posture as I drive.

Wine Country

Penola, the town, was a lovely spot, with reminders of the Mary MacKillop story everywhere – the church, the interpretive centre, the park – but Penola, the caravan park, left much to be desired. The three groups who stayed the night were all rather dismayed. The park is old and rundown and caters mainly for permanent and semi-permanent stays. However, as ever, we socialised a bit and shared a happy hour. One couple left before I did and the others about the same time as me. We met up twice along the way – once at the Coonawarra winery and once at the Father Woods Park.

That whole area is part of the Coonawarra wine belt, with a dozen or more wineries one beside the other, all with cellar door sales. I don’t bother much with a drink but thought it would be a sacrilege to pass through and not pay homage to the wine makers. Besides, it is useful to have a couple of drinks available when people stop for a drink. I also make sure I have both tea and coffee. I am a lot more hospitable here than I am at home, where the coffee shops are the easiest places to meet.

I moved north from Penola, stopping for lunch in Keith, mainly to send a postcard to my brother Keith. For a while I checked out camping spots but all were deserted until fairly late in the day when I stayed just shy of Coonalpyn. I was talking to fellow campers there, congratulating ourselves on a good large camping area, well back from the road with a separate section for trucks when a train roared past not more than 20 metres away. Ah well! What can you expect for nothing!

I had lunch today (Saturday) at Tailem Bend in a bakery there. Bakeries seem to be the place to go in SA. Most are very well set up as cafes and do a roaring trade. Claire and Adrian, from the Penola park, had suggested the ferry from Tailem Bend across the river. It is a free cable-drawn vehicular ferry that runs every few minutes 24 hours a day, taking cars to the Fleurieu Peninsula. I am once again camping in a free reserve at Langhome Creek, in the middle of another wine area. I may stay two nights and try to get to a Toastmasters meeting in the city on Monday night.

Penola

One of the reasons I came to South Australia was to do the Mary MacKillop pilgrim trail, which of course starts and finishes in Penola. All through this corner of the state, maps and street signs direct people to places of interest and everyone I've met has at least some knowledge of the Josephite story.

I have photos for the Mary MacKillop blog but took so many I can post some here as well. Mary had long term connections to Penola as her uncle Alexander Cameron was the first settler in the area and, canny Scot that he was, set up the Royal Oak, the first hotel in town. Mary was governess to his children before the schoolhouse was set up.

Canonisation Photos

Stained Glass Window
Church, Penola

The Schoolhouse

Father Julian Tenison Wood is better known here than in some other parts of Australia. He was a noted scientist as well as Catholic priest. He was responsible for Catholic education in South Australia for more than ten years and his support of Mary MacKillop and her small group of nuns allowed him to expand the school system with the methods that Mary had developed. I have photos of the Father Julian Tenison Woods park in the MM blog.

Limestone Coast

I had a very slow start to the day. I got myself organised and then decided that I'd do some washing before I left. I also wanted to have coffee with Gaye and Evelyn so I decided to combine the two. I had a coffee while my clothes washed, then I had another while my clothes dried. The ladies are sisters-in-law, having coffee with strangers while their husbands fished.

Some of this trip was backtracking from the previous week when I was anxious to avoid the heat and settled instead for cold, wet and windy! I stopped first at Millicent - lots of very old buildings and a very modern looking Catholic church, with the photo of Mary MacKillop which I have come to expect in this corner of Australia.

When I'd driven through before, I noticed signs to the Tantanoola caves and was pleased to find them only a hundred metres from the road and almost flat and easy to get around. (I had booked later for the Engelbrecht caves in Mt Gambier thinking that I could probably manage the 147 steps down - but changing my mind later when I considered that I may be feeling fit now but if I can't drive for a week afterwards it may not be a good idea.)

I booked into the Central Caravan Park which was the same price as the 'cheap' parking at the showgrounds - and had hot showers etc. Right in the middle of town is a sunken garden and cave. I had been there during the day but wanted to see the sound and light show of the local indigenous history on the cave wall at night. So I rugged up, tracksuit, coat, hat and gloves and strode off up the street.  There were about 50 people there for the light show so obviously a lot of tourists in town for the school holidays.