Our Aussie Adventures

Day 161: Opals Are Us.

Posted on September 23, 2013 by Marcus

It was a bit of a struggle to sleep last night, the warmth failing to fully dissipate and a savage wind blowing across the plains and slamming into the van with enough force to rock it about, all the while whistling noisily through the wide open windows and vents. But sleep we did after a lengthy day rolling down the highway, now safe in the knowledge that we were but a hop, skip and a jump away from Coober Pedy. Because we weren’t far off now from our destination, we again found ourselves the last campers left in the rest area, while by the time we were eventually ready to hit the road at 10:00AM, a fresh cavalcade of caravans and motorhomes were pulling in for their morning tea break.

I was watching them with some derision, wondering how anyone could enjoy getting up so early as to have to pull over for a break by 10:00AM, although no doubt, they were all looking back at us, with similar thoughts on their minds about wasting the day away sleeping. Mind you, given that the temperature was already rising rapidly, I could see some merit to the early start mentality of travel.

Getting close.

Getting closer.

We’ve arrived.

Not that we need be concerned with early starts, when by just before midday, we were pulling into the welcoming gates of our caravan park. Located a few kilometres out of town, a short way down a clay crowned road that would be interesting in wet weather, it is as quirky as what we recall the entire town being. The sole reason for us choosing this park was the appeal of free showers. Water is in such demand in Coober Pedy, all of the other parks have coin slots in their shower stalls forcing you to pay as you go. We figured that option would be expensive for Bec and smelly for me, thus here we were, all ready to take advantage of a free wash.

While the no extra cost showers was the major draw card for us, we found the park to be perfectly reasonable. It’s hard to expect too much in such a remote area, but our rammed earth dirt site is blissfully covered with a shade cloth awning that keeps the hot sun off of the van throughout the day to provide an extra level of insulation from the invasive heat. This was something we were much appreciative of, as we again questioned our decision to head inland at this time of year. The weather forecast for the few days we’re here pretty much reads hot, hot and hotter, and given that the majority of the locals live in houses burrowed into the side of hills to take advantage of the insulating properties of natural earth, I think that we’re really going to feel the heat. Something that I am sure will be of more concern to Bec than myself.

At least if it all gets too hot, there is the underground TV room and Internet lounge, although we were warned when we checked in that there is no TV nor is there any Internet, so really, it’s nothing more than a glorified underground room. We’re yet to have a look at that yet though.

Once we got the van unhitched, Bec retreated inside where the air conditioner was struggling to bring the temperature down to a more bearable level. I stayed outside, making sure everything was set up in the fashion we like. That is, the van is nicely leveled, the satellite dish is aimed at the invisible dot in the sky and all the hoses are connected. I did have trouble with the water hose, until I remembered the lack of water and consequentially the lack of a faucet for our own sole use. Therefore, once our tanks run dry, that’s it, unless we buy water in town. The council depot has an outlet at which we can purchase water in bulk for something like 20 cents for 30 litres.

Having cooled down in the van a little, we bundled the dogs back into ‘The Beast’ for a drive into town to check out the local action. As it turns out, there isn’t too much happening, but it does retain the odd quirkiness that we remember and love so much. It defies explanation, but is a love it or hate it type of place. For us, we love it as a place to visit, but I think we would quickly come to hate it as a place to live.

Like a town out of a wild west cowboy movie dust still flows along the main street, despite the tarred surface, as the sun beats down baking the atmosphere and the earth to a deep rusty red colour. A hue that is mimicked in the age old machinery littered across the barren land. There are no fields, no crops, no livestock, just quietly pegged out mining claims, all strewn with low mullocks of waste, pulled from the depths of the ground and dotted with thousands upon thousands of unmarked mine shafts from prior tribulations.

The bulk of the businesses that line the main street cater to either the mining trade, the tourist trade or to both, for there is very little else that sustains the town. That said it is a marvelously multi-cultural little town owing to the influx of immigrants all searching for the brightly coloured gleam of a prize opal. Every second shop sports a bright pied façade and signage to suggest that it is the best place in the whole of Coober Pedy in which purchase opal, from raw, uncut stones through to exquisitely polished gems.

We visited a few of the dealers, peering inquisitively through the glass topped counters at case after case of rings, earrings, pendants and all manner of other jewelry. For the most part the gems used have been mined locally, while local artisan jewelers have crafted the settings.

Seeing nothing immediately that was to our taste or within our budget, we instead decided to try our hand at a bit of noodling. Rather than what you might be thinking, this is the term given to sitting atop the great mounds of discarded dirt and rock from mining operations, picking through the rubble in the unlikely hope that a slither of opal was left behind by a miner or the other countless number of naïve tourists who have been before us. Nonetheless we had a great time getting coated in prime Coober Pedy dust, even if we didn’t find our fame and fortune.

Coober Pedy from the…

…Big Winch Lookout.

Back at the van, we managed to cook up a roast for dinner that was infinitely better than our last attempt, before getting ready for our underground mine tour, which is run right here at the caravan park. Not long before the allotted time, the park owner knocked on our door and asked if we wouldn’t mind putting our tour off until tomorrow as much for his sake as ours, as there are 50 other guests lined up to take the tour tonight. That sounded too crowded for our liking, so we said we would see him tomorrow night and crossed our fingers in the hope that it will be quieter then.

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

Posted in Everything, Road Trips., The Epic Journey | 1 Comment

Day 160: Which Way Did They Go?

Posted on September 22, 2013 by Marcus

So eager were we to be on our way this morning, we were up early, packed up and pulling out of the caravan park by 8:50AM, a whole hour and 10 minutes earlier than we planned. As it would turn out, it was quite fortuitous that we did leave so early.

The drive to Port Augusta was uneventful, along an undulating road through country typical of the Australian outback, with the sun shining brightly and warmly down on us. It was a most beautiful morning for a drive. Upon reaching Port Augusta at the northern tip of the Spencer Gulf, our plan was to stop for a bit of a look around, before continuing south along the eastern most coast of the gulf. Along the way, we listened into the excited banter over the CB radio, as a couple of folks were exclaiming about finally reaching the ‘real’ outback. It was enough to turn us green with envy that their trip sounded like it was just getting underway, while ours is nearing its conclusion.

Like all good books, which feature an unexpected plot twist just when you least expect it, our story too, takes a turn here in Port Augusta, a wrong turn in fact. Bizarrely, as we reached the outskirts of town, we turned left rather than right as intended. It wasn’t until 550Km later that we realised the error of our ways, when we arrived in Coober Pedy!

Hmm, which way to go??? Left or right???

Actually it wasn’t quite as a result of a navigational error, but more to do with us reaching the Port Augusta city limits and seeing the sign for Coober Pedy, a crazy, quirky outback opal mining town that we have visited before and know that we much like. It was a mere 550Km or so up the track, in the complete opposite direction of where we were meant to be heading. The magnetism was strong though, the allure of one last outback fling and return to warmer climes energising.

The seed planted in our heads, especially with Bec pleadingly asking that we head north, a quick look at our plans and it was decided that we ought be able to make it up to Coober Pedy for a few days without causing too much of an issue with the remainder of our itinerary. A nip and a tuck here and there to the itinerary and before we knew it, we were fueling up and getting ready for a quick detour north.

The new plan called for us to camp alongside the road in one of the many rest areas between Port Augusta and Coober Pedy tonight, before arriving early tomorrow afternoon. We’ll spend a few days living our dreams of striking it rich on the opal fields, before turning around and heading for Adelaide like originally planned. If nothing else, Coober Pedy sounds somewhat more distant from home than does Adelaide.

So, it was settled and by 10:30AM, only ½ an hour after we had planned to be leaving Whyalla, we were saying goodbye to Port Augusta, grinning like Cheshire Cats, on our 1000Km round trip detour north.

Along the way, we took a little side trip to the strange little town of Woomera. Bec was distinctly unimpressed with this idea, but I feel a strange affinity with the place and I wanted to see if it was as I remembered it. The last time we toured through here, it felt like a ghost town. Given its history as a defense force town at which rocket and missile testing took place, one could have been forgiven for thinking that a tragic biological or atomic accident had taken place, wiping out any signs of life.

I was thankful to see that nothing seems to have changed. Driving around town, the neatly laid out streets are lined with identical little houses and blocks of units, an obvious throwback to its military heritage. Washing hung stagnantly from back yard lines, while cars were parked up driveways. But there was little sign of life, apart from the few tourists milling about, looking at the displays in the ‘Rocket Park’. There was not even a flutter here and there of a curtain, which you might expect of a nosey resident hearing a strange vehicle rumbling down the street. It was as if everyone had just up and left, and done it in an extreme hurry. It really is a spooky little place, which I find utterly intriguing.

A selection…

…of the sights…

…in the…

…rocket park.

As glad as I was to return, I was glad to be moving on again, as it is not exactly the most bustling place. I must add though, that both times we have been now, have been on a Sunday. I can’t imagine it being any more welcoming during the week though.

Not much to see.

From Woomera, we made a non-stop run through to a little siding, about 170Km south of Coober Pedy, where we set up camp, along with a few other vans. There’s even a young couple propped here in a tent, who are three weeks into a 12 month long cycling tour around Australia. I enjoy cycling, but even to me that sounds like too much!

Arriving here as we did at about 3:00PM, there were still plenty of sunlight hours left to waste, as we sweltered in the heat, swatting constantly at flies while questioning our decision to head inland again. Bec tried her best to keep her and the dogs cool with a spray bottle full of water, while I set about trying to repair the little fan we had bought in Darwin and which had decided to give up the ghost this afternoon. Thankfully with a little ingenuity, a touch of luck and a piece of Gaffa tape, I managed to get the blades spinning again, providing some small relief from the heat. It made no difference to the little flies that seem to be following our every move though. They swarmed thickly around us the second we stepped foot outside, caring not for the regular swishing of our arms or the chemical odour of fly spray.

The only (and surprisingly very common) way to stop the flies.

By 9:00PM as the heat finally withdrew into the clear night sky, we were left to marvel at the fire orange orb of the rising moon and the brightly sparkling stars as we congratulated ourselves on our snap decision to eke out the most of our odyssey by turning left rather than right at Port Augusta.

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

Posted in Everything, Road Trips., The Epic Journey | Tagged australian outback | 2 Comments

Day 159: The Knicker Nicker.

Posted on September 21, 2013 by Marcus

Following yesterdays early morning, it was decided that we would have a sleep in today. A sleep in that was disrupted somewhat by the ambient sounds and noises outside, as other campers made a din packing up. We still managed to remain cocooned under the covers until about 10:00AM, when the warmth pervading the walls of the van forced us up.

We then spent a while with our heads in some books, planning not only what we are going to be doing today, but also what we are going to be doing weeks from now. It was only recently that we found out that there is a public holiday coming up, so we wanted to ensure that we have our accommodation well and truly sorted for that weekend. As it turns out, the first caravan park we rang was unable to accommodate us, so we were lucky to be able to book a site at our second choice park in Robe. It probably didn’t help that our first choice has actually closed down for renovations though!

With a few other chores completed before we finally headed out, our plan was to partake in a little more shopping, both at the shopping centre and at the weekly market. The market was first on the agenda and we were lucky to even find it, after ‘Shazza’ again led us up the garden path. It really doesn’t pay to put all of your navigational faith in a computer I thought, as we did a long lap of the racecourse to finally come across a little open entry gate to the market grounds. Even luckier were we that we got to see anything, as the few stalls were in the process of packing up for the day. With only a dozen stalls to browse, we figured we would be done in minutes, but ended up stopping to chat to a bloke who makes handcrafted pens from timber. He even has some that use a mechanism that is designed to look like a bolt-action rifle. They were too cool for me pass up, although I probably should have tried a bit harder to remember what type of timber was used in the one that I ended up buying.

It was back to the shops from the market, only to make a final assessment that they were definitely not as exciting as we had hoped for. We trawled through a few of the bigger stores, but weren’t able to find anything that caught our eye. So just a note, if you were ever thinking of planning a trip over to Whyalla, just to go shopping like what we were, I’d give it a miss. Especially if you have to cover anything near the number of kilometres we have, to arrive here!

Before our sight seeing was able to proceed this afternoon, a stop was required at the van. There was a load of washing that had to be hung out, as well as a few other things that we needed to sort out. It didn’t take us too long though, before we were loading up ‘The Beast’ to tick off the last few must see attractions here in town.

The first was at the Flinders and Freycinet Lookout, which commemorates the charting of the coast in the vicinity of what is now known as Spencer Gulf by the two explorers Englishman, Matthew Flinders and Frenchman, Louis Claude de Saulces de Freycinet. The view across the gulf was lovely, but it also looked up towards the Hummock Hill Lookout, which promised even better views and was to be our next stop.

The view from the two explorers lookout.

‘Shazza’ had other ideas though as she again had a bit of a melt down on the short drive to the Hummock Hill Lookout, and we instead ended at the marina, looking longingly up at the hill, but with no idea how to ascend it. The road here ran out at a delightful looking, calm watered swimming beach, but there was certainly no path up to the lookout. Taking our cue from the weather, which had by this stage hit a high of a little over 30^oC, we parked ‘The Beast’ and wandered down to the small crescent of golden sand, where we paddled out into the cool water. With the hot sun on our backs, the rippled surface of the transparent water on our legs, the only detriment was the constant swarming of flies aggravating our senses as they buzzed busily about us, crawling ticklishly and annoyingly across our faces.

Not hard to see why we went for a paddle.

Coolly relieved from our paddle, another look at the map identified a road leading to the top of the hill. Ignoring the pleas from ‘Shazza’ to turn here, there and everywhere as she emphatically tried to ensure we were well and truly lost, the nose of ‘The Beast’ was soon pointing skyward as we climbed to well above sea level.

Selfie at Hummock Hill.

As we had envisioned, the view from the Hummock Hill Lookout was spectacular, the clear blue water of the Spencer Gulf extending out beneath us from the foreshore, where families were happily spending this unseasonably warm Saturday afternoon frolicking about on the sand or paddling, as we had done, in the water. Turning around by 90^owe found ourselves looking over the dirty, dusty environs of the steelworks, while another ¼ turn provided panoramic vistas of the Whyalla township. Flies again accompanied our every move however, so it was difficult to relax and enjoy the views for very long, as our arms and hands were busily employed as makeshift fly swatters.

The steelworks…

…and the township.

Our day was rounded out with a final stop at the shops, this time for a fresh load of groceries. We are on the move again tomorrow, planning on stopping at a campsite somewhere between here and Adelaide. I honestly don’t relish that thought though, as Adelaide sounds so very close to home, a destination I am yet to accept is only a few short weeks away. As for our planned roadside camp, we needed to make sure we have supplies to create an easy to prepare dinner. It also means that we might well be out of touch for a couple of days, until such time as we reach civilisation and regain access to phone and Internet signals.

Back at the van, while Bec handled the task of stowing our groceries, I went to retrieve our washing from the line. I was somewhat surprised to find a gap in the neatly pegged laundry, two empty pegs still dangling from the line. A search of the area beneath the wash line failed to locate the missing item, so I returned to the van, figuring that Bec had already picked it from the wire. As it turns out, she hadn’t and an audit of our clothing revealed that she now has one less pair of panties than she did this morning, and we are none the wiser as to whether they had been blown from the line by the wind or subject to a more sinister act of being nicked. I told her that she ought to feel flattered to have had her knickers nicked!

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

Posted in Everything, The Epic Journey | 6 Comments

Day 158: All This Way To Go Shopping, And It’s Just Bearable.

Posted on September 20, 2013 by Marcus

A better day was all we could hope for after the exhaustion that caught up with us yesterday. Despite this hope, I was up and out before 8:00AM, hoping to get ‘The Beast’ looked at after the dash lit up again with a warning light yesterday. I’m still not too concerned about it, but want to get a definitive answer, just in case. So I was off down to the local Dodge dealership to plead with the service staff to work their magic for me.

I was relieved when I was told to leave it with them for the day and not only would they take a look at it for me, but also provided me with a loan car so I could still get about. This was a great relief, because it was otherwise looking like I would be spinning the cogs on the pushbike for the day again.

With the benefit of the car, I was left with a bit of spare time before I was needed at the information centre, from which a tour of the ‘Onesteel’ steel works was due to depart at 9:30AM. I had booked myself onto this the other day, after Bec declined my offer of taking her along with me, so I was flying solo for the morning.

The steelworks tour saw a couple of dozen nosey tourists squashing onto a mini bus, for a drive around the enormous parcel of land on which the works resides. Originally a BHP plant, it is now owned by a new parent company and trades under the ‘Onesteel’ name. As well as raw steel, which is transported out by ship or rail, the plant manufactures a range of products, including being the only rail track manufacturer in Australia. Our tour guide took us through the plant, showing and explaining along the way, the sequence of events leading from the arrival of the iron ore from nearby mines right through to the final product. In the past, the plant also had a thriving ship building yard, which was responsible for the construction of 66 ships between 1941 and 1978. It was an informative, if not overly exciting tour.

Touring…

…around the…

…steelworks…

…plant.

Interestingly, my next stop after the steelworks tour was the Whyalla Maritime Museum, which is attached to the information centre where we were to be dropped at the conclusion of the bus trip. The major draw card at the maritime museum is the original HMAS Whyalla. Not only named in honour of the town in which it now finds itself, retired and sitting on blocks, a good two kilometres from the waters of the Spencer Gulf, it was also the first ship to be completed and launched from the Whyalla Ship Yards.

Up on blocks, the HMAS Whyalla.

Before getting onto the 12:00PM guided tour of the ship, I had enough time to take in the surrounding gardens and the actual museum section of the complex. A good part of the museum is dedicated to the 4 war ships that were constructed and launched from Whyalla, all sister ships of the behemoth moored outside. Designated as ‘Corvettes’ their main assignment was as minesweepers.

Inside the…

…maritime museum.

A further gallery showcased displays relating to the other ships built at the yards while a third gallery housed a gigantic table top model train diorama. The miniature trains were zipping up and down the narrow gauge tracks, with the display modeled on the local area, including the loading and unloading areas I had not long toured through at the steelworks. It was all good fun, and I was like a little kid, with my nosed squished flat against the glass leaving oily smudges as I went, while I waited excitedly for the trains to pop out of the shadowy tunnels.

Waiting on the next train to show up.

At the allotted time of midday, I met up with another two couples and our tour guide for the jewel in the crown, a tour of the actual ship. We boarded by a very modern looking stairway erected alongside, but upon stepping aboard, we were transported back to another age. For the most part, the ship has been restored to as close as possible to how it was during its wartime service in the 1940s. The basic nature of the seaman’s quarters was tragic, with only the more senior ratings getting a hammock, with the junior members of the crew sleeping on the hard cold steel decking, maybe lucky enough to get a thin straw filled hessian sack as a mattress. By contrast the officers quarters were almost palatial, while the captains suite of cabins was more than generous.

At the wheel.

By the time I finally made my way back to the van, Bec had not only had time for a generous sleep in, but also managed to knock over a raft of housework that I have been putting off for weeks. That left us with enough time to take the dogs for a walk down along the beach, a treat that they enthusiastically enjoyed.

It was almost 3:00PM by the time I got a call to say that ‘The Beast’ was all in good order, some stray dirt getting into an electrical connector and setting off the warning light. Fingers crossed that a good clean of the connectors is enough to prevent any further reoccurrences. My compulsion to pay for the work was heartily rebuffed by the mechanic though, which I was most surprised at. Despite my insistence, I was sent on my way without so much as a bill, so I must give a big thank you to the staff at Emanuele Brothers, the local Chrysler, Jeep and Dodge service center in Whyalla.

With ‘The Beast’ back under my pilotage, I collected Bec and the dogs to go do what we had planned all along to do here in Whyalla. That means shopping of course. Our first stop was at the ‘Teddy Bear Shed’. It was with almost perverse pleasure that I rang my teddy bear collecting parents as we scoured though shelf after shelf of gorgeous fluffy bears. I am however a little hesitant to admit that we even bought a couple of the furry little critters.

You can see the resemblance.

The big shopping centre was next on our agenda. I’m not too sure who decided that this shopping centre was to be declared as ‘big’, because it is at best a medium sized complex compared to what we are used to at home. It did however have everything you could ask for, although we bought little other than a fresh load of groceries, before our time ran out as the shutters came down, the shops closing for the day. Don’t worry though, because I am sure we will be back for round two tomorrow.

It was back to the van then where we had dinner, before Bec decided to cook up a couple of big trays of lasagna that we can cryovac and freeze. They’ll make for easy meals after a long day on the road. This operation involved her sitting in the cold camp kitchen for over an hour, warming her self in front of the cooker while staring at the oven door. It would have only been half that long, but she had trusted me to switch the oven on to pre-heat it. How the hell was I to know that there was two dials that needed twiddling with to get it working? I think her comment was something along the lines of: “I should’ve just done it myself!”

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

Posted in Everything, The Epic Journey | Tagged dodge dealership | 3 Comments

Day 157: As Is Often The Case.

Posted on September 19, 2013 by Marcus

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.

Posted in Everything, The Epic Journey | Tagged country hospitality, craft shop, quaint seaside village | 3 Comments

Our Aussie Adventures

Day 161: Opals Are Us.

Day 160: Which Way Did They Go?

Day 159: The Knicker Nicker.

Day 158: All This Way To Go Shopping, And It’s Just Bearable.

Day 157: As Is Often The Case.

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