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.

Across the Spencer Gulf to a Super Loo

From Cowell to Wallaroo, two hours in comfort on the Aurora V or many hours of driving. I chose the ferry for what the captain called a medium to rough crossing. I love to be on the water but this wasn't pleasant. I was pleased I dozed off and the time went quickly. I did get time to ask Carol, who was on the ferry, about the brown dog. She thinks it is an old farming saying which she got from her grandfather. Apparently brown dogs are meant to be the most tenacious and stubborn. When all the other dogs have been blown away in a high wind, they stand their ground. It takes a fierce wind to blow a brown dog off its chain. 

I am now on the Yorke peninsula. This area is called the Copper Coast and was originally settled by Cornish miners and there are many reminders of that heritage. At the moment I am sitting in Cousin Jack's bakery having a Cousin Jack's slice with my morning coffee. I could have had a cornish pasty - and probably should while I am in town.

Another reminder is the Red Hat group I visited yesterday in Moonta. They are called the Cousin Jennies of the Copper Coast. As well as their formal events, they meet each Wednesday for a games afternoon. I joined them at the home of Queen Vee for a hilarious game of Yahtzee.

Helen, Queen Vee (Viv), Queen Mum Robin

There are three towns very close together. After the afternoon with the ladies in Moonta, I stayed the night in Wallaroo and this morning drove the 8km to Kadina. I have a dental appointment at midday. I have either lost part of a filling or chipped a tooth. Either way, it has to be fixed before I move south. Apart from Kadina, there are only two dentists on the peninsula. I was lucky to get an appointment at short notice.

I have just been to an Exe-Loo. I don't usually use public toilets if I can avoid it. However, this was quite an experience. The building was a clean looking aluminium style with a flashing light outside to tell me that it was unoccupied. When I entered I was directed to lock the door and told I had a maximum of ten minutes. Soft music started, What the world needs now, to serenade me and soothe my stay. When I hit the button to unlock the door, I was thanked for using exe-loo. Excellent!

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

Life is Full of Unanswered Questions

I can understand why the early Dutch explorers just sailed by. If they could survive the treacherous coastline, they would have considered the land totally useless. The only things that seems to grow are rocky outcrops. Stretching into the distance in all directions are rocky hills, boulders and stones. What I don't understand is the need to have the paddocks fenced. Usually the fences are rather ricketty structures topped with barbed wire. Is this to stop the small rocks (aka stones) from getting out onto the road and getting gravelled?

I can understand that caravan park owners have to make a living. I can understand that the season is relatively short. What I don't understand is why they make it so expensive that campers often can't afford to stay there. I am sure that if rates were slightly lower, there would be a higher income from people staying longer or even staying in preference to national parks. Here in SA an overnight in a NP costs $9 entry and another $ 5 - 9 per person (depending on how old you are) per night. To then go into town and find a shower may be another $2 or $3 plus the fuel to get there. The twenty dollars I paid in Elliston was money very well spent, where they gave me a solo's rate. When rates are more than $30 I have to think twice about staying. And why do most of them charge me the same in my very small camper (and only one person) as two people in a huge rig often with trailers and other attachments?

I can understand that people who live locally have to go about their daily business. I know they have places to go and things to do while I wander around playing tourist. What gets to me is the total intolerance some drivers have for someone who is obviously lost and obviously a visitor with interstate license plates. Many of these men (and I am being deliberate in my choice of words) would admit that the tourist dollar helps keep the economy afloat in a lot of isolated townships. If pushed, they would probably also admit that one rude driver more than balances out the goodwill generated by ten welcoming locals. What I don't understand is how they think that a long loud blast of the horn, with or without the accompanying hand gestures, helps either driver.

I can understand that councils set time limits on parking near shops and in city centres. It means that drivers move on and free up parking spaces, so that more people can spend their money. What I don't understand is why there would be a 4 hour limit on the foreshore in Port Lincoln when parking is regulated from 8.30am to 1pm. Why would you be expected to move your car for half an hour?

.A bronze sculpture of Makybe Diva has pride of place in the grassed area along the waterfront. Her owners lived here but she never visited. I can understand, though, that the people of Port Lincoln have claimed her as their own. The process of making the sculpture was interesting. A base was made of timber, it was covered and shaped with plasticine and then bronzed. What I don't understand is where they would have been able to get 5000 kg of plasticine. Every school in Australia must have been having to make their own play dough for years.

In a caravan park, there is a hierarchy of visitors and I can understand that. Those contributing most to the park owners are those who stay in self-contained cabins at about $150 or more a night. They provide work for cleaners and laundry workers but, as cabins cater for 6-8 people, they are self sufficient and don't mix with the regular campers. Then there are the owners of caravans and motorhomes who use the powered sites and generally have an amenities block close by, which they use in preference to their own facilities which have to be topped up, emptied etc. They pay around $30 - 40 depending on the quality of the park. Spread around the outskirts of the park are those who use unpowered sites, those in tents, cars and people like me who don't bother with power. However, we also pay well for the privilege, usually between $20 and $30 a night. The most important thing for us is the ability to use the showers and toilets. What I don't understand is why a caravan park like the one I am in now puts the amenities right up among the self-contained cabins for those people who don't need to use the amenities. From my camp site, the walk is at least 200m and that is a long way uphill, past the cabins, in the dark with your legs crossed. (Fortunately the smaller parks are more accessible.)

I understand how simple life is with a GPS system. Some are easier than others to follow. Unfortunately GPS Jane died a lingering death along the way. She has been replaced by Kerry who has very odd intonations. I was so pleased to get off juBILLee highWAY west that it was worth getting lost to try to clear my mind of her directions. What I can't understand is how people get out of a town without a GPS. It is easy to get in as you often directions for hundreds of kilometres. Once you get into a town, or worse a city, there are no signs until you get on the road out. It is possible (not that I do it!) to drive along every likely road before finding the first sign to where you want to go, often 5 or 6km out of town. I have a system. Just like a search and rescue team, I work a grid of ever-widening blocks till I hit the edge of town. You can be lost for a long time. Thanks Kerry, for small mercies. At least you get me on the right road, even if you drive me crazy along the way

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.