Our Aussie Adventures

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.

It was fantastic to be able to wake up this morning, peer through the blinds knowing that it’s going to be a beautiful day. And what a day it was, the sun beating down on our shade cloth carport, a light breeze playfully tickling the scant vegetation scattered about the grounds. It was enough to keep the heat at bay, although the flies were mostly unperturbed.

Bec had only managed a broken sleep, getting up a couple of times to uncharacteristically take Bethany out. It seems as if her, Bethany that is, tummy is giving her a few issues again, but I blissfully slept through all the hullaballoo and flashing of lights turning on and off at random. So while Bec slept in a little longer I jumped up and spent the morning dividing my attention between a generous bowl of cereal and a good book.

Once we were both up and about, we eased ourselves into the day, of most import, making sure that Bethany was okay, before we ventured out, leaving the two dogs in the van. We had caught up with the park manager and confirmed that this arrangement would be satisfactory. Luckily, he too is a dog lover and was quite happy for us to leave the babies in the comfort of our van while we went into town for a look around.

In town, untethered by the dogs, we were free to explore to our hearts content without the worry that they might be overheating in the back of ‘The Beast’. Therefore, we parked the truck before setting out on foot to wander aimlessly up and down the main street. It was hot, thirsty, dusty work, during which time we managed to acquaint ourselves with numerous opal dealers.

Since Bec has her heart set on taking back a decent chunk of Coober Pedy earth in the form of a souvenir piece of opal, we frequented as many of the opal shops as we could manage. There were a few that proclaimed their openness via flashing neon signs and placards on doors, however wrist wrenching action on the door handles failed to achieve a positive result. Peering through the grimy windows was no guarantee either of confirming whether a shop was indeed open or not, as we found on several occasions that a darkened interior was as much likely due to the store being closed as it was that the proprietor was attempting to save money on power. We walked into a couple of shops, to be met with a flurry of activity as light switches were thrown to provide a mediocre amount of dim light by which to examine the stock.

One old bloke in particular seemed to be happy for the company, quickly abandoning his game of Solitaire to shadow us about his store, proclaiming to have the best specials in the “city”. Though his thick accent was difficult to understand, he managed to convey that he’d been at it for 47 years and enough was enough, so when it was all gone, then it was time to shut up shop. He was going to call it quits after 46 years, but here he was, twelve months later, still with a shop full of stock. Even if he did manage to give up he said, he would still stay in Coober Pedy. All his mates are here, so where else would he go?

In another shop, the business must have been brisker, because the lights were on and stayed on. The matriarch met us at the counter, handing us a small polished pebble each, for luck she said, and a pouch of raw rock mixed with a couple of shards of valueless but nevertheless alluringly coloured opal. She too has been here a long time. She didn’t like it at the start, which turns out describes the first 14 years. She got used to it after that though, and now loves the place, where she runs the sales side of the business while her husband toils out in the fields mining the opal. The adult children are employed, the son as a jeweler and the daughter a photographer in the midst of setting up a website.

It was almost comical, as this lovely old dear chased us around from cabinet to cabinet, withdrawing trays of rings and pendants and earrings for Bec to take a closer look at, all the while holding pieces up to Becs face while grasping her by the chin to get a better look or jamming rings onto her fingers until she had one on nearly every finger. “No, no, no” she would say. “That one is too small.” “That one is too big.” “That is not the colour for you.” As well as narrowing down the choice from literally thousands of pieces, to a mere 2 that suited Bec perfectly, she was a great source of information about the process involved in getting the stones from the ground to the showcase. We left without making a purchase, although I have a feeling that we might be returning before our time in Coober Pedy comes to a conclusion.

As well as the umpteen number of opal stores we visited, we took a walk through the underground caverns of one of the hotels. Dug out and set up as a tourist attraction, the walls of the carved out hollows in the sandstone are hung with information boards depicting the history of the region. The history lesson is accompanied by information about opal mining and processing, before the final corridor leads you through a pricey boutique and gift shop. Having done it all before, it was still of merit, as well as providing us with a much welcome respite from the above ground heat. The temperature in these ‘dugouts’ is naturally maintained at a bit over 20^oC year round.

One final stop awaited us before our heat stressed and dehydrated return to the van. As well as underground homes, Coober Pedy sports a number of subterranean places of worship. We had planned to do the rounds of a few tomorrow, but finding that one was directly adjacent where we had left ‘The Beast’ we wandered over for a gander. This particular church is the St Peter & Pauls Catholic Church and holds the honor of being the very first underground church in Coober Pedy, if not the world. The exterior features a bell tower and a stone façade that is hard up against the hillside. Upon opening the door, we were greeted by a small narthex, before we strolled down the nave. Dug out of the earth, the small, traditionally shaped interior of the church was dimly lit, with icons adorning the sandstone walls.

The exterior…

…of the church.

The interior…

…of the church.

Back at the van, I had plans to upload more pictures to our Flickr feed, but soon found myself spread eagled across the bed, fast asleep. I woke an hour or so later, feeling little better thanks to my impromptu nap. There was work to be done however, as I prepared dinner out on our barbeque to relieve us the need of artificially heating the inside of the van.

The dusty, barren landscape…

…surrounding the caravan park.

It was only a few minutes before 7:00PM that we wandered over to the caravan park office, the bright orange twilight at our backs as the temperature reduced at an almost relative rate to the pace of the sinking sun. Thankfully, the underground mine tour was rather less patronised this evening than last. For the next hour and a half, we were guided about the cavernous holes that had been blasted and bored from the earth when this area was an active mine site. Our guide patiently explained the entire process, from the initial pegging out of a claim and boring test holes, to the end result, the jubilation of finding ‘colour’, to us.

Looking for a gem.

We were all even given an opportunity to grab hold of a couple of divining rods. While these might seem like folklore when looking for water, miners around here use them to point to the hidden gems. They actually do give an indication as to where the opal is likely to be located. Bec managed to get them to work, although in my hands they failed to perform as advertised, waving about rather erratically. Although that might have been caused by the energy that I myself was emitting, as each time the guide walked past me with the rods, I damn near caught one in the eye as they swung forcefully in my direction. So there you have it, I’m a gem!

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