It dawned today that it was time to hit the road again. Our time in Coober Pedy had run its course and we unfortunately had to turn around and head back towards Port Augusta. The realisation was profound, although we are extraordinarily happy that we had made the detour.

I think that the last blast through the warm outback was just what we needed, to pull us out of the doldrums that had descended upon us while cruising along the ordinarily weathered coast from Ceduna To Whyalla. Coober Pedy therefore seemed like a much more fitting final adventure, before we reach the built up cityscape that is Adelaide. From Adelaide until we arrive back in chilly Melbourne I have a feeling our heads will be spinning as the general pace of life increases. Not a thought we are relishing.

As for today, we sadly packed up and relinquished our prime site in what will be remembered as one of the more memorable caravan parks we have stayed at. Not because it was particularly flash, but more because of its quirkiness. Mod cons were non-existent, flies flittered about like torrential black rain, grass was in short supply and the amenities had a musty, mouldy aroma, but we could have got all of that in any one of the other caravan parks in Coober Pedy. What we couldn’t have experienced anywhere else was much more important to us though. That is the blissfully shaded site, the free showers, underground recreation facilities and the amenable manager who was always up for a chat, especially when it came to comparing ‘The Beast’ to his old Dodge truck which has seen better days, but serves its purpose just fine. It was a genuine outback experience which we shall not forget anytime soon.

As for today, as we turned out of the park, onto the rough rutted track to the highway, it was with big grins spreading across our faces as we vowed that we would return again to this quirky little outpost. It was then time to work ‘The Beast’ up to speed for our relatively short drive south. Thankfully, the prevailing wind that had caused a spike in our fuel consumption getting here favoured us today, almost blowing us down the road.

On the open road again.

Our first stop for the morning was at an unusual outcrop of pretty purple flowers Bec had spotted on the way to Coober Pedy. We had marked it as a waypoint in the GPS, so Shazza helpfully alerted us that we were closing in on them, giving me ample opportunity to safely navigate off of the road into a little siding, from which we could walk back to the blossoms. Somewhat impractically, we crossed the thorn strewn desert ground wearing only thongs on our feet. So savage were some of the nettles that Bec was soon feeling the sharp nibs pushing painfully through the soles of her flip-flops, digging into the flesh of her feet. We persevered though, so that Bec could stand amongst the wide field of little flowers as they wavered in the wind.

Floral field of dreams.

With more than an ample number of photos added to our memory cards, it was back to ‘The Beast’ for a 2 ½ hour drive to our camp spot for the night. We could easily have continued, putting in several more hours and many kilometres more on the road, but had decided to make the most of our freebie night by stopping at the scenic Lake Hart Rest Area.

Nestled on the southern most banks of Lake Hart, the rest area had not even the most basic of facilities. We parked in the hard packed rest area, planning to stop where we were for the night. A quick check of the level of the van saw to it that a more suitable site would need to be chosen. Off on foot we went exploring therefore, following a narrow little track closer towards the lake, where Bec found a nice little area to park the van. I wasn’t convinced we would get the van in, owing to the craggy track surface, but after carefully pacing it out, figured that it was worth a shot.

Back where we had left the rig, we found another caravan had parked behind us, blocking us in. I went over to politely ask the lady sitting in the drivers seat if she wouldn’t mind backing it up out of our way. Before I knew it, she had jumped out, thrown me the keys and asked if I could do it. We got to chatting and while she is happy to drive it forwards, backing up is a skill that is outside her level of comfort and her husband had gone off for a closer look at the lake. We all had a laugh at that as I moved their rig out of our way.

A nervous few minutes later, we were bouncing over rugged ground that alternated between deep soft drifts of red sand and rough sun beaten white rock to navigate into the camp site we had picked out. With a bit of judicious wheel placement, we slotted straight in with little more than a bit of sand caught up on our entry step.

It was not much after 1:00PM and that was our day, we were here to stay. We even unfurled the awning to throw a slither of shade across the van, although we soon found that the wind threatened to turn the canvas shade into a 16 foot long kite, so we rolled it back in. The wind had the benefit of keeping the temperature bearable though, as we threw open every window and vent we could to make the most of it, before kicking back to enjoy an afternoon off. I think the fact that we are still on holiday is something that we have forgotten over the past few weeks, so it was nice to sit back and do nothing for a few hours.

As the impending sunset drew near, we walked across the soft dirt covered path, clouds of talcum powder like dust rising chokingly with each step, towards the lake. Rather than a wide expanse of water, the lake is covered in a thick crusty layer of salt that took on the appearance of ice, glittering in the remnants of sunlight. Towards the horizon, what may or may not have been water can be seen, but we weren’t going to hike out that far to find out. Instead, we skittered about near the shoreline, marveling at the crunchiness of the salt underfoot. The further out we ventured, the damper the surface became, until our feet sank slightly into the top layer, leaving saline filled foot shaped indentations. There is nothing we have ever experienced like it, so unusual did we find it.

On the salt crust.

Possibly stupidly, I felt a pressing urge to taste the crystalline flakes. I don’t know what I expected, but salt was the overwhelming flavour. Go figure! So much so, I gathered up a few chunks with which to fill up our salt shaker at home! If, when we return, you are presented with a gift of salt, at least you know that it is a genuinely unique souvenir from our time at Lake Hart, South Australia.

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