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.