When we checked in to the caravan park yesterday we were told kindly, but in no indeterminate manner that there were particular guidelines we had to follow with the dogs, especially with regard to minimising noise. It was therefore extremely aggravating to be awoken at 7:00AM by kids running around, squealing with high pitched glee that was way too energetic for the early hour, without a care for other campers. Their parents seemed not to care, even though these little brats were running directly through our site, ensuring that there was little chance that we would miss a single shriek. It’s not like there isn’t a wide expanse of dirt out the back that they could have been running about on, away from any other campers. I was left thinking that maybe parents of young children should be bound by the same rules as pet owners. That is, keep them quiet, pick up after them and put them on a leash or at the very least, suitably under control.

Thankfully, the kids must have left with their parents by a bit after 8:00AM, giving us the grateful chance at a little more studying the insides of our eyelids without the constant cacophony emanating from outside.

And sleep we did then, until 10:00AM, when we sluggishly regained consciousness, rising to prepare for the day ahead. Since we have been to Coober Pedy on several previous occasions, we have managed to see the majority of the touristy sites in and around the town, so we had nothing especially planned with which to fill our day. With that in mind, we left the dogs cocooned within the van, while we traveled the short distance through town to the unique, once bustling mining camp of a since passed local larrikin, Crocodile Harry. His domicile has since been opened up to tourists, although it fails to get a mention in any of the mainstream tourist brochures, so it is only those in the know that manage to find this place. And what a place it is.

Coober Pedy…

…Eccentricity…

…At Its…

…Best. (PS: That Bed Was In Mad Max III)

His traditional, yet expansive Coober Pedy styled dug out humpy is covered with all manner of relics pointing towards his hard living reputation and love of a good party. In fact the advertising catch phrase is that he partied for 30 something years here, and the evidence remains, plastered to the earthen walls of the main residence, in the form of signed lingere, photos, and hand written notes, many professing their authors love of Harry. Carved sculptures jut wantonly from the walls and other relics litter every available space. As eccentric an exhibition as you could imagine, there are no words that even I can find to aptly describe the joint. A bizarre contraction of articles could only be found here in Coober Pedy and of all of the other places we’ve been to in town, it is here that sums up the ambiance of the entire region. A thin veneer of normality concealing a fun and exciting underbelly of foible, just waiting to be discovered by those alacritous enough to search for it.

Back in town again, we parked ‘The Beast’ and went for a walk up and down the main street, stopping first at the supermarket for further supplies of nourishment, before going to look for opal. And by going to look for opal, I don’t mean that we pegged out our own claim and started digging. No, we did it the easy way, by browsing through a few of the many opal retailers trading on the main street. Every time we come to Coober Pedy Bec goes looking for an opal ring. Naturally, I tell her that if she sees anything that she likes, to buy it. That, I think, takes all the fun out of it for her though and despite finding a few bejeweled pieces that would have looked fine adorning one of her fingers, she declined yet again not to make a purchase. This was even after a warned her that it might be some years before we pass through town again. She smirked at that though, saying that it will only be a few weeks before we travel right by again. She got me there.

Back at the van, where the dogs by this time had been for a number of hours, we were greeted with unabated excited abandon and no nasty surprises. While they tried to smother us with sloppy lashes of their tongues, we set about to prepare another slap up lunch, before having a breather before getting ready for this afternoons activities. We had decided to make the drive out to The Breakaways, to watch the setting of the sun.

We left in plenty of time, taking the babies with us this time around, for the 50 odd kilometre drive, unsure what road conditions we would be greeted with enroute. As it turned out, even when the macadam gave way to red dirt, we were pleasantly astonished to find them in good repair. The drive takes you on a scenic loop that is hard to imagine is even earthly. In fact, the plains that are bisected by the 5 and a half thousand kilometre ‘dog fence’ are actually known as the moon plain. An expansive stretch of desert, speckled with fist sized gibber rocks. The Breakaways themselves are a series of low mesas that break the horizon, rising up from the surrounding flatness. In an ever changing display of colour as the light alters, they are best viewed from one of the two cliff top lookouts.

SUNSET AT THE BREAKAWAYS.

We stationed ourselves thus, to witness the spectacle as the sun set, but a smattering of broken cloud prevented the amazing display which we were eagerly anticipating. It was nevertheless worth the effort, but we did make tracks for the van soon after the sun had plunged below the horizon as the temperature began it own slide toward the lower reaches of the mercury bubble.

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