This morning followed a similar course to yesterday morning, me getting up a little earlier than Bec, giving me time to have breakfast while working on the computer to upload another few days worth of pictures to Flikr. I’m still far from up to date with them, but it will at least give you a couple more images to put to our words.

When we did go out, it was like walking out into a blast furnace, or probably more like a fan forced over considering the wind that confronted us again, rolling across the dusty plains. The weather forecast actually read: “Windy, possible dust” accompanied by a nice little icon of a grey dust cloud. That was a new one for us, although it was quite apt.

As we were driving about the outskirts of town on what we called a scenic drive, although it was more a case of being hopelessly lost, bouncing along dirt roads that all looked the same, we actually got to witness to a number of squally, mini-twister like whirlwinds, squirrelling across the barren earth, causing dust, dirt and pretty much anything else in their path to spiral upward. The dust was indeed spread far and wide.

We are literally only a couple of minutes drive to the centre of town from here, and yet there is nothing here apart from a couple of claims and dugouts.

Our reason for being lost out in the ‘badlands’ was that we had gone off in search of another underground church, this time the Serbian Orthodox Church. Considered to be the prettiest, the grandest, the largest and as it turns out the most expensive of all the beneath ground level churches in Coober Pedy, if you were to visit only one church while here, this would be it. From the outside, it looks nothing special, just a few doors and windows cut into the side of a hill. It is once you get through the door, after pushing your requested $5.00 per person donation through the slot of the honesty box under the threat of being on camera, that you get to see what an ornate hole in the ground this really is. With beautifully sculptured effigies in the walls, the main gallery is a wide open space with a timber and lead light glass frieze beyond the altar. Lit from behind, it sparkles in the dimly lit room. A mezzanine level gives sweeping views of the entire space.

The exterior doesn’t give too much away.

But once you get inside…Wow.

The Anglican Catacomb Church was next, which is a much plainer house of worship. It’s simple layout is as a result of it being converted from existing dug out residences in the late 1970s, the main feature is twin Caldwell drill shafts that descend directly above the pulpit, the remainder of the church is simply adorned with a cross, lectern and communion table fashioned from local mulga wood and an old miners winch. The minister greeted us warmly when we entered, even taking on the roll of photographer to take some happy snaps of us. We soon slid back out though, when he began asking questions about our faith, leaving him to attend to the next family that were making their way down the aisle.

In the heat and wind, we next sat atop the mullock hills in the public noodling area, to again try our luck at finding some of the much sought after ‘colour’ of Coober Pedy. The allure of uncovering a brightly coloured piece, regardless of size was strong, although our luck wasn’t to be. A couple of dull sheened chips of ‘potch’ were about all we could muster from the dirt. Disappointed, although not overly surprised at our lack of success, we headed a few kilometres north of town for another mine tour.

About to go down.

We have done the guided tour of Toms Working Opal Mine before, so elected to take up the self guided option this time round. More so to get access to their noodling pits than for the actual mine experience. That is not to say that we didn’t enjoy roving around, something like 12 metres below the surface, armed only with a hard hat and a very ordinarily drawn diagram of the mine layout. I am sure there are shafts in there that if we walked down once, we must have walked down them a dozen times, but we did satisfactorily manage to see the majority of the underground exhibits.

The shaft boring machine.

Back up on the surface, we completed our tour with a browse of the mining machinery that sits above ground to assist with the mining process. Generally old trucks fitted with a long arm connected to a huge drum they are called blowers, although they are actually more akin to a gigantic vacuum cleaner. The pipe reaches deep within the mine to suck out all of the rock as it is scoured from the walls.

One of the blowers.

It was in this area that we again got down and dirty in the act of noodling. Rough rock scratched at our hands as we dug through the rubble in the hope of spotting the tiniest bit of colour that might have been left behind. With nothing more than a splash of water to highlight the slithers of opal Bec managed to find a couple of tiny pieces to add to our jar. It was hot work as the temperature topped 35.5^oC, the dust swirling about in the wind parching our throats and embedding tiny grits in our eyes, but was all a bit of fun.

Ready for a noodle.

It did leave us coated in a fine layer of grey silt however, our clothes where we had been sitting now dust and grime smeared and yet when we went back into town we fitted right in. No one gave us a second glance as we waltzed into expensive opal stores and asked semi-seriously about pieces valued in the thousands.

It was then time to make tracks and return to the van. The dogs had been left behind again, so we didn’t want to leave them alone for too long without checking in on them. Not that they seemed overly perturbed that we had been out all day without them, although they were seriously excited to see us home again.

Now back at the van, and with no plans to go out again, it was time to clean up. I spent somewhat longer than the requested 3-5 minutes beneath the cascading hot water of the shower, watching as inches of dirt welled up on the floor of the cubicle as it was rinsed from every little bit of exposed skin, as well as a few not so exposed bits.

The rest of the day, I spent scrolling through pages of information on the Internet, trying to plan our coming stay in Adelaide, which I am sad to say can’t be put off again for a further impromptu detour, although I hear Broken Hill is nice at this time of year!

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