Another fabulous day greeted us as we threw open the door of the van this morning. With the sun beaming down brightly and warmly, it was a relief to be able to dress in shorts again, after having spent the bulk of the past few weeks in long pants. We will have to enjoy it while we can though, as wet weather is forecast over the coming weeks, a change we are in no way looking forward to.

Rather than leave the dogs in the van again today, we decided to bundle them into ‘The Beast’ with us for the quick drive to the local National Trust Museum that we had missed out on yesterday. We didn’t expect that to take us long to browse through, before we gave the bubs a run along the beach in town. The museum however, turned out to be much larger than we thought. We were met at the counter by one of the friendly volunteers, who help run and maintain the museum. He was a chatty fellow, who delighted in following us from room to room through the first building, explaining some of the displays amongst bemoaning the fact that the complex received no funding and therefore relied mainly on donations. For the very modest $4.00 entry cost, I was surprised at the depth of the articles on display.

Settler cottage display.

The main gallery.

Set on 2 ½ acres of land, the displays are spread across several buildings, all with a vague theme. In the small rooms of the main building for instance was cabinet after cabinet of local history items, including an extensive collection of bird eggs. Another room was crammed with items relating to the atomic weapons tests which were carried out in the late 1950’s not too far from here in Maralinga. Another room boasted a display of early hospital, medical and nursing paraphernalia. Scouring through the outer buildings and sheds, we came across an old school house, complete with old desks, slates and pencils. Telecommunications devices and antique radios filled another small shed, military accouterments another and maritime artifacts, including whalebones that have been found washed up upon the local beaches in a further out building. We continued to be astounded as we wandered deeper into the grounds, to amble through a shed full of old horse drawn carts, a tiny little cottage which has been relocated here after having served as the family home of a local resident for a good many years and two sheds full of old machinery and tractors. There was even a church in the grounds, having been trucked here from a nearby town. It would have been quite easy to have spent the entire day here, methodically working our way through all of the dusty bits and pieces on display, but we were stymied by the 12:00PM closing time. I don’t think the few blokes pottering around fixing up this and that would have minded terribly had we continued poking around, but we also had to consider the dogs, who were still sitting in the back of ‘The Beast’.

Beneath the whalebones.

Our next stop then, was to take them out for a bit of exercise, so we unloaded them at the beach in town. We were able to practically park right there on the sand before walking across to the cold water, skipping over the dense clumps of dried seaweed as we went. As far as beaches go, I couldn’t rate it too highly, partly because of the weed, but mostly because each step we took was fraught with the peril of stepping onto shards of broken glass. Broken bottles were strewn far and wide across the soft sand, making it a bit of a hazard. Unaware of the dangers, the dogs happily strutted up and down, trying their best to stretch their leashes so as to be able to bury their noses deep within the piles of rotting vegetation.

What we came to know as Broken Bottle Beach.

With Alvin and Bethany slowing down a little from the walk, we hoisted them back into their seats, before stopping just down the road at the jetty. While Bec stayed with the dogs, I walked out along the spindly legged wooden pier. The pylons holding the boardwalk aloft above the dark green waters hardly seem sturdy enough to support the weight. Other than the diminutive legs, there was little to make the jetty memorable, although a cute little indigenous boy did point out a birds nest with 3 eggs nestled within the straggly bowl. Sitting well hidden beneath the planking of the pier on a cross member, it was only visible when kneeling down on your hands and knees and peeking slyly between the planks.

I really don’t trust them pylons.

Ceduna from the far end of the jetty.

A quick stop at the supermarket was next, as our stores are running low again after our trek across the Nullarbor. Since we are planning to free camp again tomorrow night on our way towards Port Lincoln, a little stocking up was in order. We made sure to steer well clear of the tasty looking rolled lamb today however.

It was only 1:30PM when we made it back to camp, in time for a late lunch before I sat down, hunched over the computer for the remainder of the afternoon. It struck me that it has been some time since I have been able to update our photos on Flickr. As it turns out, I am something like four weeks behind, so I worked crazily to upload some new pictures to keep everyone entertained. I am still well and truly behind schedule, but there is a raft of new images to be looked at. Click here: FLICKR, FLICKR, FLICKR, to check them all out.

While that kept me busy, Bec busied herself with some much needed housework. That saw us through until almost 5:00PM when we decided to give the dogs one final run along the beach before they get locked in the van while we go out for dinner.

The Ceduna Hotel had been recommended to us as the place to go for a decent feed. Thankfully we had also been advised to book in advance and ask for a table by the window to take advantage of the views past the jetty along which I’d walked earlier and over the bay to the orange glow of the setting sun.

It was a magnificent view, although a thick clump of clouds rolled across the horizon before the sun had a chance to set, obscuring the sunset for us. It mattered little though, as by that stage our attention had been diverted as we concentrated on the delicious fare with which we were served. Salads and vegetables were self serve from the bain-marie and accompanied our oven baked, spinach and feta stuffed chicken breast delightfully. For such a small town, it’s a pretty fancy bistro, which easily surpassed my meager expectations.

Following dinner, and a quick flutter on the pokie machines, where we left only slightly poorer than what we started, it was back to the van for the night, where I spent most of the evening trying to ascertain what might have caused one of the warning lights on the dash of ‘The Beast’ to illuminate. Apparently, it could be any one of hundreds of sensors, so only plugging it into a computer is likely to shed any further light on the issue. A scroll through the many Dodge related forums would indicate that it is nothing to be concerned about though, which comes as a bit of a relief.

Until next time, stay safe, have fun and don’t forget to write.