Day 6. Saturday 11 November.

Having trouble uploading photographs, so will post text and follow up as we can with images.  Grrr!

Although the campsite is quite crowded (and late arrivals creep in, and out, fairly regularly) it remained pleasantly quiet. That’s probably partly because there are no fires allowed, and it’s too cold to be outside for long. There’s a vast assortment of rigs, from tiny one- person tents to large 6 berth campervans. So far, no caravans, although we have sighted retail outlets for them. The other notable absence is Grey Nomads – apparently here called Grey Ghosts.

On a perfect sunny morning (again) it was time to head towards Dunedin, via Twizel and Omarama. At Omarama we passed a glider airfield, and T had an idea. After a coffee at a mobile barrista in town, who provided great coffee, good stories and a fair amount of cheek, T decided that’s what she would like to do. D opted to provide ground control. As a side note, the barrista told us that Grey Ghosts generally don’t have a good reputation in NZ, as they reputedly take free camping to a new art form, and avoid paying fees for facilities and usually have no home base…sounded a bit like ‘trailertrash’. He was familiar with a different culture in OZ, where folk take to the road for months/years, but the freecamp mentality is not such a put-down there. Maybe it’s got something to do with the vastness of OZ and the driving distances.

The flying outfit, Southern Soaring, was able to squeeze a half hour flight in. T’s pilot Dan (looked about 17, but claims ten years flying experience) was from Yorkshire, here on a working holiday – four years ago. A very comprehensive briefing, including how to operate the parachute (and for those who were in Noosa last year, this time T didn’t pull the cord handle to check whether it worked).

It took a while for the tow plane to get high enough to let go but after the ‘release bang’, T felt the silence in the big blue…except for the air rushing in through a small window opening and then the birdlike ping ping ping sound which meant we were either ascending or descending with the thermals. After some minutes of circling and rising/falling (like a rollercoaster, which T never chooses to ride), Dan said we’d just go straight. The airsick bag was visible in a side pocket. T passed on the offer to have a go at the control stick (Dan said that he often was sick when guests took control! – and T was aware that Dan had just finished a quick lunch in order to take this flight). There were mountains and lakes and fields and fortunately thermals (since that’s what kept us up). T wondered if birds have the unpleasant feeling of head & stomach connection. The soaring/gliding silver bird that had caught T’s eye at Mt Cook this morning had prompted the glider idea but T was looking forward to getting feet on the ground again and was relieved when Dan announced that it was time to land. T decided that if she were a bird, she would have to be a kiwi or an emu or the little brown ‘hopping bird’ which has been at our various campsites ( except she can’t hop, either!)

After the flight a somewhat queasy T thought that a road trip might be alright. Dan had recommended stopping at Benmore Lake, which we did, to have a very short walk along a breakwater. This was the first time we’d observed watercraft activity on lakes – although T had noted them as she passed over in her glider.

We stopped at some Maori rock paintings along the way east – very simple, mostly black and red, and largely lines. It was sad to see that they had been extensively damaged by carved initials etc. and had also been cut away and taken to various museums. They are now protected by steel cage barriers, and some have been removed and placed in museums, we presume (it wasn’t stated) because the sandstone cliffs are wont to collapse. We hope they weren’t removed haphazardly.

The afternoon’s chosen driving route deliberately took us through Duntroon – it was quicker than the other place, and infinitely more pleasant! In NZ we have now also been through Albury, Holbrook, Weston…..just to mention a few.

On to Highway 1, heading for Dunedin, but not tonight. Stopped at a dump site at Pukeuri to find no tap connector for the fresh water tap (we carry several in our rigs at home!) so tried to fill the water tank by D holding the end of the hose up the tap. This is at best a partially successful technique.

So on to Herbert, where we are perched in a DOC (Dept of Conservation) forest campsite (Glencoe) about 2 km out of town, sharing a lovely grassy area with just one other campervan containing a Canadian girl and a German girl who have just finished working the snow season in Wanaka, have bought the mandatory daggy van and are now doing the tourist thing.

Our connection to the internet has so far been intermittent, as free wifi hasn’t been readily available (free camping doesn’t include free wifi – nor, so far, has paid camping!). We’re on a Telstra international day plan, which gives 100 mb per day, but that doesn’t provide much flexibility. Today, for example, D got onto Google to sort out some refugee email issues, and that used up pretty much all the capacity. Perhaps we should just revert to postcards and letters?

 Day 7. Sunday 12 November.

A very cold night! Retraced our route from yesterday looking for a restaurant called Riverstone, highly recommended by Lonely Planet, for a brunch treat.

D has scrambled eggs with truffle oil and streaky bacon, pleasant enough, while T had blue cheese caramalised onion pork sausages (three!) which were outstanding. Both meals were re-enjoyed regularly throughout the day.

Back to Oamaru to visit the small Farmers’ Market and wander through the old Victorian harbor precinct. This area had been restored only thirty years ago, having been ignored since its heyday at the turn of the century, when the city over-reached itself and the hoped for continuing prosperity vanished. Fortunately there was insufficient funds to demolish these lovely buildings, so they’re now having a revival as a hip market place.

Heading for Dunedin, stopped for today’s highlight at Moeraki Boulders. Lonely Planet advised it was a 45 minute walk along the beach from the village, but that information was out of date, as there is now a café and a 5 minute beach walk to the boulders. Of course the threatening skies opened, accompanied by a driving wind but the pics tell it all. The boulders are ‘concretions’ in sedimentary material formed 60 million years ago and subsequently raised above the ground.

South again, sticking to the scenic routes rather than the main highway, Route SH1. At Dunedin branched off on the northern arm of the Otago Peninsula to a little village called Aramoana, located at the northern head of Otago Harbour. Wikicamps told us of a free campsite at the village’s Reserve, but we couldn’t accurately find that, so parked in a sealed parking area overlooking the beach and salt marsh flats – hoping we wouldn’t be asked to move right along. Directly opposite, on the southern head of the peninsula is the albatross breeding sanctuary (a visit there tomorrow) but we’ve already had a preview with the help of the little binos purchased at Arakoa (because we’d forgotten to bring our proper ones from home).

Late afternoon walk along the beach and over the saltmarsh flats, with an icy wind blowing but fortunately no rain. Imagine there’ll be no other crazies out this way tonight.

Evening falls and last of the campers are in…

Brilliant sunshine on a cold morning, but the lake-mountain views were marvellous. Where shall we go today? Mt Cook, only 90 kms of driving to tickle the battery, with lakes and mountains the whole way. A brief stop 10 km from Twizel to take in the view and get the hot smoked salmon for tonight’s pasta. Plenty of tourists (lots of Japanese groups who seem obsessed with selfies and photos of ‘here I am with the mountain/lake behind’.)

   

Passed 2 helicopter–flights points and T didn’t ask for a stop (yet). With such perfect flying conditions she must be saving up for something really special.

After excellent coffee at Old Mountaineers café (we qualified for half of that title) we learned that there is a campground so decided to investigate. Yes, there are lots of day-trippers but we were advised that it quietens down at the end of the day.

  

  

It’s now evening and we’ve earned the salmon pasta after a 3+ hour walk along the Hooker Valley towards Lake Hooker at the foot of Mt Cook. It was reminiscent of Alaska/Canada terrain, with fast glacial streams and snowy peaks. For T the highlight was probably the Mt Cook buttercup.

Upon return to our campsite (nicely levelled with rocks under the wheels, as ramps aren’t included in the kit) it was time to share a wine with Beau and Bonny, American neighbours from South Carolina.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Daybreak and brilliant sunshine – but yes, the night had been very cold. Somewhat startled to discover the showers were 50 cents in the slot, given fees paid last night, but at least they were long!

After a quick shop in town, headed south towards Timaru, a port city. Opted to park near the information centre and then look for a coffee fix. After passing on a few offerings, stepped into Sopheze, which was very busy, and a simple order of two coffees and a piece of walnut cake (buttered and wrapped in plastic) was stuffed up. Ah well.

The town centre maintains its Edwardian facades, newly painted. The sculpture garden at the Aigantighe Gallery was worth a detour.

  

The afternoon sky threatened and T wondered whether heading west to the Alps was wise but the vista was a delight as we passed through Pleasant Point, Fairlie and then to Lake Tekapo. Dairy farms gave way to deer and then the landscape became alpine, windswept and treeless. At the lake we paused to admire the range of blues and to visit the old stone church, but beat a hasty retreat in the face of the hordes of Japanese selfie-takers and chatterers in the ‘quiet’ worship space. The afternoon colours and snow-capped mountains kept enthusiasm high.

The narrow road west was buffeted by very strong winds, making the journey uncomfortable. Each time a large truck passed, it created a windbreak that threw forward direction askew – that can be somewhat disconcerting! Arrived at Lake Pukaki, and wended our way past many fellow campers to a quiet spot sheltered from the wind. Fellow freedom campers continued to come in over the next few hours, but all of them chose to pass our little sheltered nook to join the masses of others that were camped on the edge of the lake. Great views, but they’ll probably have an interesting night if the wind gets up. We are sharing the site with a couple of car loads of campers – when they arrived the boom-boom music started up (oh dear!) but that died down. They have ignored the No Fires signs and have enjoyed a little camp fire from the plentiful pine cones.

  

 

 

 

 

Day 1. Monday 6 November.

A wet day in Canberra to farewell us. Our dear friend Keith arrived early to drive us to the airport, to be there well ahead of time. As always happens when you plan ahead, there were no queues and we entrusted our luggage to Virgin and Air New Zealand, hoping that both bags would arrive at our destination: they had worked together on our trip to Norfolk Island to ‘misplace’ T’s bag for almost a week! Having arrived with plenty of time to spare, the inevitable happened: our flight was delayed by an hour. This hour was then taken off the time we had to transfer to the international terminal, get through Immigration (oops, Border Control Force) then through security – usually a long drawn out process in Sydney. But the gods were smiling on us – we whisked through in record time, the only worrying moment being when D was asked to step out of the quick line and be processed by an officer. Apparently the electronic screening didn’t like the look of him (not really surprising).

So, on to ANZ for the two and a half hour flight to Christchurch. By 6pm we were a bit peckish, having missed lunch in the delayed flight but no meal for us, as we’d apparently chosen the miser option, so we had to then buy some refreshments to keep us going. A pie and sandwich were not as appetizing as the aroma of the chicken vindaloo, but a pinot calmed T. Arrival and processing smooth, even though D had declared an amount of fishing gear, which wasn’t inspected. The Kiwis apparently think he has an honest face, even if the ABF don’t. Into the Sumida Airport Hotel for a quick snack of ham and pineapple pizza, wedges and chips, (the sort of stuff that D regrets almost immediately)

washed down with a Pinot and CabSav Merlot. The details are there only to demonstrate how desperate we were for food.

To bed, but not to sleep. D had dreadful pain in his left hand, and his tossing and turning and moaning kept T awake – well, more awake than usual. The quake of 2011 was rumbling on (or so it seemed in a bed where every movement ricocheted). A most unrestful night.

Day 2. Tuesday 7 November.

An early start not least because our 10 AM pick up was actually really only 8 AM according to our body clocks. The hotel provided a shuttle to the Maui base, a huge activity, buzzing with people getting their vans. The sight filled us with dread – was there going to be any free space on this island?

Processing was smooth, efficient and comprehensive, so we were on our way to Countdown, the NZ equivalent of Woolworths. Stocked up (yes, including wine) and then on our way. A couple of false turns, but unlike in Alaska, none were up one -way streets.

Headed for Akaroa, a ‘French’ settlement about 90 kms SE of Christchurch. We plan to be here just one night – tomorrow a dreaded cruise ship comes in, with 3000 passengers.

We parked in a free camp area on the boat ramp – when we arrived there were five others; as the day and evening wore on, all those travellers (or so it seemed) who had picked up their vans earlier in the day arrived in dribs and drabs. It’s a bit like being in Coober Pedy again, but with a bit more elbow room. Only self- contained vehicles are supposed to use the site, but there is a great variety of rigs, from couples in the back of station wagons, families in small Juicy vans to large bus-like rigs.

  

Green lipped mussels tonight, in a tomato and (NZ) white wine broth.

Day 3. Wednesday 8 November.

The rain and wind arrived with a vengeance overnight – the van rocked and rolled as large gusts buffeted us. Still raining steadily at daybreak, so took the only sensible option: a long sleep in. The weather started to clear around 1030, and we moved into town for a quick croissant and coffee breakfast – it is, after all, reputedly ‘French’. The upside of the bad weather was that the cruise ship couldn’t off load its passengers as the sea was too rough, so we had an hour or so of quiet time until the passengers dribbled in.

The free museum was a delight, starting as recommended with an excellent overview documentary tracing the history of settlement, from the first indigenous peoples to the European explorers and colonists. And just like the recent discussion in Australia, this country was also ‘discovered’. The documentary portrayed a far easier occupation than ours, although we suspect that might be somewhat disputed. Certainly the Treaty of Waitangai was a good outcome – although the Maoris argue, with apparent justification, that the English language version and the Maori language version differed significantly when covering the issue of indigenous tribal sovereignty. This was not resolved until recent years.

Leaving town we took the scenic Summit route taking in the terrain of the 3 volcanoes that form the peninsula – a narrow winding road with barely enough room for two vehicles to pass – but the views were magnificent back down towards Akaroa and on the other side of Banks Peninsula. 50 shades of green……

Took a turn down an even narrower, steeper road into a little village called Okains Bay: it was about three buildings and a cultural museum. Another gem, with a range of displays from Maori culture to the early settlers.

 

Latish afternoon by now, so after a brief stop at Little River and a quick view of their wonderful NZ art gallery, on the road to try to find that elusive free camping area. Back through the outskirts of Christchurch, then south towards Rakaia, heading towards Rakaia Gorge. The suspicion we’d had was confirmed: this was all beautifully organized agricultural land, without a single opportunity for a stealthy overnight stop! Decided to head for a little town called Methven, at the foot of the Mt Hutt snowfields, where we have called in to the campground, which is quiet and hardly occupied. Now there is only the bleating of sheep to bother us, as it is also the showgrounds. Snow-capped mountains and rushing glacial rivers remind us of the Canadian Rockies.

And it is cold.

 

 

 

 

Day 36. Saturday 2 September. 

The sound of raindrops on the roof of the van had D bolt upright and ready to bolt – there was no way we were going to be caught by rain again, particularly if we had to share the site with a smelly, dead sheep. So, instead of slipping back into a second sleep at 6 AM as we would normally do, it was pack up while having at least a cup of tea to start the day.

Breakfast at Nerrandera Bakery two hours later woke us up, and we decided to ‘do’ lunch at the Long Track Pantry in Jugiong, rather than the dinner at the King George we’d planned (with an overnight stop). A good decision: this is an eatery we can thoroughly recommend, as it has been consistently excellent for service, beverages and food, and the bonus is the Hilltops wine cellar next door!

Having travelled a tad under 7,000 km, the only real moment of danger came 25 km from home. A vehicle travelling the other way lost part of its load from the trailer it was towing – it seemed to be some sort of fairly large chimney flue – which landed in the middle of our lane and bounced towards us. Fortunately its trajectory was towards the side of the road, and D was able to swerve enough to avoid it, but not without an anxious moment as the van objected to the rather abrupt manoeuvre – but it soon calmed down, as did D & T after a stop to draw a quick breath and settle nerves.

Arrived home at around 3.30 to begin the process of unloading, washing, cleaning, refurbishing, storing………

 Days 37 to 41 – Sunday 3 September to Thursday 7 September.

A short, unplanned detour to Canberra to attend to a few matters, and to take the opportunity for a spring clean. Speaking of Spring, Canberra really turned it on – windy, cold and wet most of the time, usual Spring fare.

Lovely to catch up with family, and to be able to go to Maya’s and Theo’s Learning Journey activities, and to have a day with Theo and Charlie on Thursday.

 Day 42. Friday 8 September.

Down the Clyde in the early afternoon, after a meat pie and coffee at the Braidwood Bakery. Arrived at Shellharbour just before 6 PM – D noticed in the gloom that lights on the van weren’t working, although the electric brakes fortunately were. A little job for tomorrow.

Twenty of the 25 strong Alaska/Canada motorhome tour group have gathered for a twelve-month reunion. A group dinner at a Thai restaurant in the village just a short walk along the beachfront became noisier by the minute, and the staff a little bit frustrated as meals were wrongly claimed and partly consumed before the error was noticed. All handled in the end with good humour.

Day 43. Saturday 9 September. 

D booked a mobile auto electrician to drop in on Monday morning to fix the van lights problem. T mentioned this in a group chat and Pam immediately volunteered her husband Charlie to look at it and fix it – ‘he can do anything’. After a bit of problem solving with multimeter and cables, Charlie did indeed track down the problem to a blown fuse, which was caused by a screw having been put into the positive wire when the new plug was fitted in Adelaide. The problem was rectified and the auto electrician was cancelled – as the realization hit that we’d probably been travelling without van lights since Adelaide! The danger of assumptions: as the original problem with the plug had been fixed, we hadn’t been doing our regular checks of the lights and of course this happened. Murphy strikes again.

  

A lovely walk along the beach brought us back to our van via the sea-fed swimming pool. Not tempted.

Much like on the Alaska trip, little groups gather in their folding chairs, soon to be joined by a few more, soon to be most of the group. A daily Happy Hour was a feature of the 2016 trip, and sure enough the beer, wine and munchies appeared once again at about 5 PM (fudging that time slightly) as a prelude to a shared BBQ at Charlie’s van.

  

Day 44. Sunday 10 September.

The group is thinning out gradually – two left on Saturday morning and four more today. We joined with most of the remaining members of the group for a vehicle tour of scenic spots – as passengers with Charlie and Pam (Pam, by the way, hadn’t been on the 2016 trip – Charlie was accompanied by their adult son Mark, who dropped in this morning to say hello).

We are great fans of the South coast, and haven’t really explored spots north of Milton and south of Wollongong. Spots visited today were Kaleala Park, Farm Beach ( surfer heaven) Kiama Blowhole, Saddleback Mountain and lunch at the Jamberoo Pub, as well as the scenery – lush farmland mostly – in between. A new appreciation gained of a lovely, peaceful area, and not even the rows of Harley Davidson motorcycles at the pub spoiled that! We were excited to view a couple of whales at the blowhole, as well as a few spectacular blows.

Late afternoon saw the afternoon tea merge into drinks and then as the sun dropped and folks got cold, the retreat to vans.

Tomorrow ends this adventure, as we drop off the van for some TLC at Smeaton Grange, and head back to Canberra. Our next adventure is in NZ, starting on 6 November.

Day 34. Thursday 31 August.

We leave Adelaide behind. The weather, family and friends have been good to us.

Apart from a brief stop at BWS to restock, Nurioopta for a coffee and fresh provisions and a walk through Barmera’s main street, we just drove, ending up, perhaps appropriately at Psyche Pumps Lagoon a few kilometres out of Mildura, near to King Billy Lagoon where we had stayed previously. Barmera is a sad town with many empty shopfronts but we didn’t find out the cause of the demise. Presumably, it’s like so many small towns where agricultural labour is no longer needed. Apart from the odd vehicle passing on the dirt access road, we had the Mildura spot to ourselves. We had tentative plans to go to Stefano’s for a meal, but the logistics after a long day were too hard. A campfire dinner, with T exclaiming that the bbq sausages were the best meal she’d had on the trip. Finally subverted!

Day 35. Friday 1 September: Spring has arrived.

Did we write that we had the spot to ourselves? Only if you exclude the chorus of feathered friends who woke us in the early morning – a Butcherbird, Magpies, Magpie Larks, Noisy Miners, Swamp Hens, and Parrots. We were delighted to meet them and share their joy at another lovely day. And the first day of Spring!

Mildura provided a coffee and a visit to the Mildura Arts Centre – three exhibitions: Badger Bates, the Harris Brothers (both of those were indigenous art) and a Kylie Minogue travelling expo, primarily of her costumes and dress items, backed by a huge screen playing some of her notable concerts (none of which, sad to say, D nor T had ever heard of – is that un-Australian?) The security girl minding the Kylie exhibition sighed when T announced that she wasn’t interested in this gallery but was looking for the Badger Bates.

Another long day on the road and we’re back to the beginning – stopping at the same spot on the Murrimbidgee that we used on Day 2 – 30 July, the only difference being that the dead sheep that was a good 500 metres away on the side of the river is now less than 10 metres away below the bank, and unreachable to push out to float away. We therefore cop the occasional whiff of rotting carcass but fortunately it doesn’t linger. When we first arrived, T was giving D dark and questioning looks, but he quickly found the real perpetrator. Perhaps it’s fitting that we’re back to the beginning as T’s month of knitting has become a month of unknitting; not only did she discover late this afternoon that she’s been knitting on needles one size too small and that makes the gauge very different but also that the garment is much TOO BIG at the yoke/neckline! The wool is a beautiful fine merino; it won’t end up like that sheep that D has finally dealt with using the shovel.

The morning was very cold and D leapt out to boil the kettle. We were due at the van repair place at 0900 and D is a demon for timings, so an alarm had been set (even though a mental clock had us awake). The van was duly deposited and we were given directions to Hollywood Plaza for breakfast. It’s the place where ‘you can eat, drink and relax like a star’!!!!!! – complete with in-floor named star designs. T was a bit concerned that D’s Rolf Harris look might be stretching things too far and have the knife-throwers out (not the autograph junkies).

Van repairs done promptly with terrific service from Rick and crew at Camperagents on Port Wakefield Road (they truly deserve a promotion), we were then in Port Adelaide by late morning, so parked and took a stroll around the heritage precinct. It’s a part of Adelaide we had not been in and of course, as in many cities, has been gentrified, albeit with some evidence of inequality and disadvantage, and provides quiet strolling.

Now we are at Kingston, on the beach and the afternoon has been clear and sunny. A walk to Brighton Pier has sharpened the appetite and we’ll dine with Cathy and Naz this evening. 

As indeed we did – a pleasant evening with a lovely family, catching up on doings & goings (some of which, as Christopher reminded D) had already been passed on at Lucy’s wedding (ouch!).

Day 33. Wednesday 30 August.

D was out at pre-dawn (again) to take the car to a service. This grew into an all-day affair as the passenger airbag had to be replaced (on recall). D figured that it was a bit important, as the knitter’s safety needed protection.

Dear friend Peter provided some Uber service in his black V8 Mustang (D didn’t decline the offer). Then there was a lovely beach walk to meet up with Peter and Marianne for a leisurely Brighton lunch.

An interesting stop was the sand reclamation, where sand washed by the tides to the north is captured and pumped back south again. Take that, Mother Nature!

D and Peter retraced their steps to the car servicing location and T chatted some more with Marianne before the return beach walk. We covered a lot of topics in a few hours with friends going back to 1982 I Shrivenham: as always, with Army friends, we were able to resume from the last meeting pretty much without missing a beat.

Brighton is indeed a very nice Adelaide spot and with (today) a big blue sunny sky, the beach was beautiful, with plenty of human and canine activity – seeing the joy in the faces of those free-running dogs brought a smile to our faces. The park is fairly quiet, amenities excellent, so it has been a very pleasant few catch-up days. On the road again tomorrow.

 

 

A drear looking day – no rain, but it looked threatening. The caravan park caretaker came by, and amongst other advice suggested a place near Adelaide where we might get the (very needed) van wheel alignment done. A quick phone call later and we’re booked in for tomorrow morning, which tells us we’re now heading towards Adelaide for an easy start next day.

Ardrossan is our first stop, via a lookout that gives a panoramic view over the coastline and backwards to the Arrium dolomite mine, which is hardly visible from the road.

Ardrossan is a pleasant, neat town, but seemingly without the attractions which might attract visitors to stay (T remarked that it didn’t have a frock shop for a certain type of visitor).

 

 

 

 

The little café where we had our morning coffee was delightful, and had made very clever use of wooden pallets to create a pleasant courtyard effect.

 

 

 

 

Port Clinton was next, for a wander through the samphire and mangroves in a conservation area, looking for the birds that wouldn’t sit still to let us focus the binos. But we did see New Holland Honeyeaters and the Spiny Cheeked Honeyeater. The tidalflats are marvelous in the very shallow gulf water, leaving boats marooned for long periods.

Decided to check out a free campground at Port Parham, which turned out to be quite adequate, although it became busier as the day wore on. We were intrigued by what appears to be a local invention used by the commercial fishermen to recover their boats over the very shallow sand flats. Basically, the towing vehicle is a chassis, using just ordinary car wheels, with the differential pointing upwards into a raised framework with a second differential connected to a small engine. The sand is apparently quite hard, so the unit doesn’t sink, and the raised framework means that it can operate almost submerged. They look slightly weird – and very Mad Maxish!

  

T chatted to a local resident, busily engaged in trying to eradicate onion weed from the coastal verge. He would attend tonight’s ratepayers’ meeting to hear the latest on the proposed campground regulations. He is opposed to any moves to limit the campers to a 3-night stay. He said the campground is full every night in the warmer months with family groups who come for the crabs and ‘you need to stay for 14 nights to make that worthwhile’ and it should remain a free camp (there is only water and a single flushing (M&F sides) toilet) as campers spend their money in the local shops and at the social club and this generates significant income. There would be less income for Council if campers were charged the proposed $10 per night and could only stay for shorter periods.

Again, the tidal flat is broad, giving the impression of the sea being far away on the distant horizon, but come high tide, there will be water on our doorstep.

There was sun briefly this morning and again this evening, with cold and cloud in between. However, the Yorke Peninsula was glorious in its fields of green wheat, blue sea and honey stone buildings. The sense is of good times, towns have serious-money estates on the outskirts, advertising for retirement lifestyle, sunshine, cafes, etc. and advertisements for harvest hiring. Wallaroo and Moonta caught our walking legs. The Nautical Museum in Wallaroo was a little treasure; the town is very proud of its heritage, with loads of stories of the little ships that pre-dated road transport for peninsula farmers. The peninsula farms look pristine and genteel, with wheat rolling down to the sea but we have no way of knowing what’s behind the façade. Towns appear to be doing well, lots of upmarket holiday accommodation (in the right season) and no empty shop fronts, or grates covering windows, as we’ve seen in some country towns.

We spent a few hours in Moonta, where D had many family holidays in a caravan in the 50s & 60s: but couldn’t pin down where these had been, although the whole town was somehow familiar. The architecture takes you back to another era. The stonework is tactile, but I bet the original workers didn’t share our enthusiasm for their art!

  

Mid–afternoon was time to start looking for tonight’s resting place.

Because private farmland rolls down to the water, it’s not possible to find a hiding place, as we used to do in Gloria (this is her on the Eyre Peninsular, in 2007), so we have stopped on a headland campground at Black Point (now an upmarket fishing cabin strip on the eastern side of the peninsula, but probably once a haven for fisher people happy to rough it).

 

We have the campground to ourselves, the water view is marvelous, the heater is on and dinner is not far off.