Up and into it we were this morning, on a mission to be on the road by 10:00AM. We were actually looking like we would hit the mark too, but as is often the case, the clatter of packing up draws admirers from all around the park. As it turned out, we got chatting to a bloke we had first waved to yesterday. Little did we know then that we have mutual friends back home, proving once more just how small a world this is. It also proves that you really have to be on your best behavior at all times.

By the time we had said goodbye and rolled out of the park, we were already running a ½ hour behind schedule. It shouldn’t have mattered, as we only had a short drive up the road to Whyalla to complete today. Barely 250Km, and yet by the time we arrived at our chosen park up north, we were both feeling the symptoms of a cold, exhausted, cranky and pretty much glad the day was over.

Apart from the delay this morning, we started off well, making good time to the very pretty, quaint seaside village of Tumby Bay. Had we known how beautiful this town was, we might have made an effort to spend a few days here. It looked to be a perfect place to relax by the beach and while away the time. Instead, we made somewhat of a flying visit, stopping mainly because Bec had seen an advertisement for a shop selling all manner of locally produced craft and handiwork. Our first drive down the main street failed to locate said store however, and no matter how much we searched through printed brochures and looked on the Internet, we couldn’t for the life of us find an address. So Bec rang a phone number that we found listed on the net, only to get hold of some random lady who informed us that we had not called the right number for the craft shop. She was however more than happy to assist us with some much needed directions to the store. Yet another example of good old fashioned country hospitality.

Thanks to the anonymous voice on the other end of the phone, we managed to find the shop we were after, as well as taking a walk down the short main street and along the foreshore. We took the dogs with us as we strolled along the foreshore, teasing them with the smell of fresh salt air, as we maintained their distance from the damp sand, much to their disgust.

On our romp along…

…the foreshore.

Wheeling out of Tumby Bay, back onto the highway, our next stop was meant to be in Port Neill, at another attraction Bec had read about. Driving through the tiny little township, we however arrived at the designated address only to find the windows tightly shuttered, the doors padlocked and all of the sign writing blacked out. It would seem our visit to the jewelry factory wasn’t to be after all. With nothing else on our list of things to do planned for Port Neill, we continued on our way hardly bothering to slow down, let alone stop.

That being the case, our next stop was in Arno Bay for lunch. The Arno Bay Jetty Café boasted the giant Arnormous Burger, which sounded to me much like a challenge. For $11.00 each we both ordered the big daddy of burgers, before sitting down in the little dining room off to one side of the café. The atmosphere was far from buzzing, as we sat on mismatched chairs at mismatched tables. Another group of diners were sitting at another table, talking in hushed tones amongst themselves and we followed suit as we waited for our meals. It was almost like sitting at a strangers kitchen table and not being entirely sure you were welcome.

Our burgers were soon plonked down on the table in front of us, while condiments and cutlery were pointed out. The burgers were indeed on a grander scale than any I’ve had before, but quantity didn’t quite equate to quality. Sure, they hit the spot, but were far from the best I’ve had. Not that prevented me from attacking the last ¼ of Becs that would have otherwise gone to waste.

That sure is an Arnormous burger.

Our guts full of greasy burger, the next leg of the drive was by far the most difficult of the day. Exhaustion was quickly setting in as I battled another fierce, flanking wind that threatened to blow us off the road with the slightest lapse of concentration. It was tiring in itself just keeping everything rolling along safely and I was never so glad when we finally approached the city fringe of Whyalla, which would mean our drive for the day would soon be over.

Naturally, as if often the case, the caravan park threw us another spanner. Upon rolling up to our allocated site, we found it to be nice and wide, and on first appearances, easy to back into to. And easy enough it was too, as we proceeded to reverse the van quickly in, but ending up a foot too far to one side, with the wheels on one side of the van sitting high on the concrete pad next to the van. This didn’t seem ideal, so out we went for attempt number two, which saw us perfectly lining the van up with the edge of the concrete annex pad. The only issue was when we checked out how level everything was sitting, did we realize that the dirt beneath the van was out of kilter to the extent that we weren’t even able to level things up by putting the wheels up on ramps. Not wanting to be rolling over each other thanks to the lean of the van, attempt number three saw us deciding to just put the van entirely up on the concrete. By this stage, we had both had enough and just wanted to give up, not to mention were aggrieved at the growing audience we were gathering, so with a quick flick of the wheel, we got it up and just left it where it landed. Hence, we’re now parked on an odd diagonal tilt across the site and couldn’t care less because at least the van is sitting level and livable.

Just to compound our opinions of this otherwise nice park however, the fall of the ground means that the step from our door is flying high in the air, leaving somewhat of a leap to and from, each time we exit or enter the van.

Not that we took too much time to consider any of this as we quickly unmated the van from ‘The Beast’ before heading out for a look around town. We have no idea what to expect, as the only thing on which we based our decision to land here was some TV ads we saw years ago when we stayed in Port Augusta, suggesting that the shopping was good here. Well, now we can be the judge of that, although our all too short drive about town today failed to yield anything of great interest.

Back at the van, we almost fell into bed as we made a valiant attempt to recover from our day. As is often the case, we’re feeling a little better as a result, and are ready to face tomorrow. It is after all, another day.

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