Pig's Bum it's the driest State!

SA is supposed to be the driest state on the driest continent (don’t talk to me about Antarctica right now thanks, I’m dejected enough) but we have encountered an absolute beaut of a rain situation. We’re stuck in the Barossa at the Nuriootpa Caravan Park that was idyllic two days ago but fairly sodden now. There’s nothing more forlorn than a caravan park on a rainy day. It’s too wet for us to de-camp the camper (it’s all that canvas you know) so we opted for another day here. Actually, we had a good day although we did discover that most of the Barossa is closed on a Wednesday. We went out along a wet bush track through winding hills to see the local lavender farm (closed – til September!), but went on to the little town of Lyndoch for a coffee and a cake (nice warm German feel about the cafe). We had heard about an antique collection and found the Chateau Barossa – not well known I suspect but well worth a visit - a fabulous collection of 18^th century German porcelain pieces amongst other treasures. There was an elderly gent hovering around there in an old safari suit and the lady at the counter said in hushed tones “David Ruston is here today” like we should be impressed (and him in a safari suit). Our idiot expressions pressed her on, “He’s the doyen in roses! Wrote a book about them!” (showed us the book – mercifully it wasn’t called Ruston Roses – I know, steer clear of the puns!) “He’s met the Queen, several times!” (still not getting anything) “He’s quite eccentric but he’d be pleased to show you around!”  We responded that we would be honoured to have an audience with such a famous person.

As it turned out, David spent all of two minutes explaining very little to us before he rushed off to attend to other more pressing matters (didn’t mean that flower joke! Sorry about that) – my only impression, apart from the eccentricity was that his personal distance was much shorter than ours and consequently we found ourselves backing off a little as he spoke (I wonder if Her Majesty’s comfort zone was likewise intruded upon in those meetings). Anyway the collection was truly impressive and we left an hour or so later – in the rain!

It was lunch time so we thought we would try the Barossa Brewery in Tanunda (closed). We parked in the main street and saw the Zinfandel Cafe – authentic German food – sounded great - closed! Some place called Nosh railed against the trend and saved us from certain starvation. We drove home in the rain and we’re staying dry and cosy, wondering if this infernal rainfall will ever stop!!

Oysters and wine

Forget the $7.50 a dozen oysters – how about - $7.00 a dozen!! This is the price we paid in Cowell when we arrived there for the night. But wait, yes there’s more. We went down to the fish cleaning place in the Caravan Park to shuck them and there were some local farmers there cooking up a huge pot of crabs that they had just caught. I had to return to the camper to get something I had forgotten and when I got back there we three crabs on the plate for us – Maurs had sweet-talked them out of a couple – she’s still got it! A good meal at the right price!

We were back in the 40 degree air – man it was hot. We left the next day and passed through Whyalla and Port Augusta without the slightest need for deviation, leaving the main highway in favour of a lesser road through the Flinders Ranges to Melrose where we propped for the night. Nice little town and a good van park nestled in the bush. There’s a great old building there called Jackas Brewery which closed in 1934 and is in some disrepair but still holds its character well.

                                                    The old Jackas Brewery in Melrose

                                                  Wine touring in the Barossa (Langmeils)

                                                      Sampling at Maggie Beer's

The next day we carried on through to the Clare Valley and then on to the Barossa. We picked up on a small wine tour the next day and went to several smaller wineries of some repute as well as Maggie Beer’s shop/cafe. Might have stocked up on a red or two as we went along. A successful day topped off with a pub meal and as we lay in our camper that night, content with the world, it began to lightly rain.

Signs and Monuments

Something struck me as interesting in South Australia and that’s the road signs. The road people here aren’t constrained by the 5’s and 0’s decimal mentality in their distance advisories like every other authority in Australia – I felt heartened and yet saddened. To go against the grain and show Streaky Bay as being not 70 km away but 68 km away and Cleve to be 32 km distant shows some measure of free thinking and enlightenment, and yet – would it have killed them to just go the extra mile (so to speak) and put all distances as prime numbers?!! One day! Primes will triumph.

The other thing about signs is the bizarre signs that one encounters in caravan parks. In Cowell I noticed a large sign forbidding the use of Talcum Powder in the Shower Block, denouncing the practice as being hazardous. I wondered where the true danger lay and imagined there must have been an incident that would have been the catalyst for the owners posting such a sign. Did a complaint come from the Mesothelioma Society about inhaling the fine particles, the Asthma Society perhaps, about someone gasping for air or a stern letter from the Society for Orthopaedic Surgeons informing that some old bugger had slipped over on the stuff and done his back in? I can’t wait to get to Queensland – they have signs with long lists forbidding everything (but they always finish them with, Have a Nice Day)

I’ve noticed that South Australia seems to have an awful lot of roadside monuments on its country roads compared with other states. It’s almost as if every time that Edward John Eyre stopped for a leak someone has put up a monument on the spot. We especially wanted to see the monument for author Mae Gibbs out of Cleve. Mae holds a special place for me in that she terrified me as a child with her Banksia Men (thanks for all the nightmares Mae). When we got to it, the monument was quite small. Now maybe those who erected this plaque got it right by sizing it in proportion to Mae’s place in world literature (I mean Snugglepot and Cuddlepie is hardly War and Peace is it); but you’d think they would have talked her up a little bit more than a 16 size font on a small rock. Still, it gets you out of the car and walking around.

                                                      One small monument to Mae Gibbs

Baird Bay

We’re not going to blog every day but just got to tell you about the day we spent at Baird Bay. It’s about 50km down from Streaky Bay on a rough dirt road with nothing much at the end but there’s an eco-tour down there run by an old friend of Maurs, Alan and his wife Trish where they take you out for a morning of swimming with dolphins and sea lions. It was truly magic. You sure get up close and personal with these beautiful creatures. Just an incredible experience. Here’s a few pix but they just don’t do the day justice. Highly recommended.

                                                             Maurs (in wetsuit) and Alan

                                                 Some of our swimming companions

                                                     Sealions doing "whizzies" in the water

Mind you they go into the water with a shark shield set to stun. Effective on sharks (hopefully) and people with pace-makers (certainly). I was guaranteed not to be mauled by grey nomad rather than a great white or a bronze whaler.

Hove to in Streaky Bay

It’s Wednesday and I feel a blog coming on.

We made it across the border and after donating all our fruit and vegetables to a nice man at the quarantine station we made camp at Ceduna. The Nullarbor is a vast nothingness all right but at least it separates the good side from the other side. The big issue in Ceduna that week was how to stop cars and trucks from interacting with indigenous people who stop to have rests in the middle of the highway (true story). I’m not sure what the solution is but I’m pretty sure it’s not; remove all cars and trucks from the highway.

We moved on to Streaky Bay and we decided we’re sick of travelling for a while so we will sit a spell and for the last two days I have been attending to a contract that I have to complete. An office by the sea is not too foul a concept, but it is still work. We’re off to play tomorrow with some sea lions if all goes well. We took a break today and found Tom Evans’ Oyster Shed. “How much, Tom?” we asked. “$7.50 a dozen” says Tom. “We’ll take three of those thanks Tom” and we did. A quick lesson in opening oysters (we already had an oyster knife in the camper for days like these) and off we went home, via Cape Bauer, which boasts blowholes of some stature (even perhaps a little more spectacular than the ones at Marmion near our place).

                              Oysters being shuckedwith gay abandon (is that really his name?)

                                                First of three dozen off the production line

                                                            After a good job well done

                                              This is our setup for those interested (taken at Walpole WA)

So, we got back to the camper and feasted on three dozen freshly opened oysters (we now qualify as one fine set of mother shuckers), followed by a steak on the barbie and washed down with a red(you can join us anytime you like). Time for bed.

                                                    Tough day at the office

Border Crossing Imminent

                            Aftermath of thunderstorm at Fraser Range - partial rainbow and "Fist of God!"
We are poised in Eucla this afternoon, just about to cross into the wilderness that is South Australia. For the weather nuts out there, I posted on the last blog that we were trying to stay in the cool air behind the trough that is currently moving through the Bight. Well yesterday we musta outrun the trough and we found ourselves back in the 40 degree air ahead of the trough when we pulled into Fraser Range Station Caravan Park. As the trough came through that evening we were treated to a spectacular thunderstorm display, although as I lay a little uneasy in bed my mind kept drifting to those media reports you see when tornadoes seek out and destroy trailer parks in the US. I thought “Am I just another piece of trailer trash waiting to be interviewed and say “Gaw, ut sounded jist like a freight train goin' overhead!!” as I sifted through the remains of all my worldly goods?” Mercifully the twister never came and doubly mercifully, we’re back in the cool air again.

Maureen was fussing around in our little pantry the other day, looking perplexed. It seems she had discovered that dust must be getting into our camper because she found a coating of dust all over her measuring cups. I had to come clean and tell her that I was getting some stuff out of the pantry in the dark and the bluddy measuring cups ejected themselves and EXPLODED into the dirt at my feet. So I had to stop everything and pick the suckers up – I thought I did a reasonable job cleaning them up – apparently I didn’t – but at least she won’t have to take days to forensic the camper to discover the phantom leak (honesty is the best policy I find).

Going to check out the old telegraph station ruins before the light fades.

Two days out and running strong

It took us a while to get our “rig” together. When we road-tested it at the Russell Ranch at Gingin in searing 42C heat (why? I don’t know why!) we discovered we had been given the wrong tent poles, which explained why the annex kept looking like an Indian tepee every time we tried to put it up. We kept the camper erected in the front yard to give the neighbours van-envy and mercifully, a week before our scheduled departure, Perth experienced an unseasonal summer downpour which revealed some subtle leaks in the canvas cover. One of these was directly above MY head such that I would have undergone the Chinese Water Torture the first time it rained on us. So it was back to the workshop to fix that.

One last hiccup occurred the day before we left. This was the day to load up the gear in preparation for a quick escape on Monday. Unfortunately I got mixed up with bad company on the Saturday night (you know who you are) – there was red wine involved – and frankly I was rendered useless the whole of Sunday, leaving Maurs to do the lion’s share of the packing. I could manage small bursts of activity but this was interspersed with long periods of lying on the bed, moaning and cursing (you know who you are). Maurs was surprisingly good-humoured about all this, maybe she’s keeping her powder dry for now.

Sufficiently recovered on Monday we left as planned and made for our friends’ place (Keith and Trudy) in Bridgetown. Now I am notoriously crap at backing into places and Maurs and I have yet to work out a system, but Keith talked and guided me into a good site fairly effortlessly. I got out of the vehicle and said, “Maurs you’re out, Keith you’re in!” He declined my kind offer – said he had work to do or something – so Maurs is still in the vehicle.

After Bridgey we made for Coalmine Beach just outside of Walpole on the south coast of WA. It is a beautiful caravan park and we extended our stay to two days in the hope that I’ve read the weather maps correctly and we stay in the cooler air as we dash across the Nullarbor. Now there’s a challenge. We arrived just on lunchtime on Tuesday and the owners were putting on a sausage sizzle and pancake lunch for Valentine’s Day. I feel nothing says I love you more than a sausage sizzle and the grey nomad inhabitants of the park obviously agreed. It was every man for himself but we managed a sausage and a pancake each and came away relatively unharmed.

I don’t know if they’re called March Flies or Marsh Flies but the ones down here are massive and have a huge proboscis that penetrates all clothing. Man they bite, and they’re coated in Kevlar so that when you swat them they just fly off...laughing! It’s hard to get your ten hours rest in the middle of the day with those babies around. Still, we’re trying.

                          A selection of dead March/Marsh Flies for your viewing pleasure

We’re heading east!!