Adelaide and surrounds

Can anyone guess where we went today?

It’s time for my foodie/drinkie friends to get jelly.

Loving the Barrossa valley. I have to admit to not being that keen when Rod suggested we spend the afternoon there. The Hunter valley never inspired me but the Barrossa is a whole different animal. For a start, the landscape is gorgeous; it isn’t really a valley but gentle slopes that move and cleave. Vineyards are patched against olive groves, pine forests, lavender and alpaca farms. The colours are warm and lush. There are several charming towns each with old cottages, historic community halls, Lutheran churches and their own character.  The villages are old but like a good wine, they have aged beautifully.

We headed for Maggie Beers Farm.  We saw the testing kitchen but were too late to see the cooks in action. Of course we were quick to sample her wares. The dark choc and caramel sauces were an immediate hit.

Alas, Georgia felt that Maggies preserved olives were sub-standard. Later we wandered around the farm and saw her olive grove planted in 1995 and duly read all the information regarding the grove.  Apparently her passion is cold pressed extra virgin oil – not the fruit.  Phew!

Instead of heading back to Adelaide via the Sturt highway, we decide to take the meandering back roads south that lead to Hahndorf. The drive is beautiful, following a tributary of the Torrens and passing apple orchards, horse stud farms and delightful country pubs.  Rod and I mused over the fact that Hahndorf seems to get all the hype, while countless other towns on the way are just as lovely.

Anyways, let’s talk about Adelaide. I admit to not being a big fan due to a handful of visits a number of years ago but I am happy to report that Adelaide has grown up and is now a proper city with many sophisticated features.  

We arrived late on Friday, after a family conference confirmed that we were all a bit jaded from the seclusion of National Parks. Too much wildlife and not enough good coffee. We found a “holiday village” on the beach west of the city. It is called West Beach – really.  It is one of these big commercial places with jumping pillows and water fountain play areas and pools and games rooms and big screen TV’s playing kids movies and about 2000 children running amok.  Talk about the sublime to the ridiculous.  I am not complaining, it has hot showers, flush toilets and I can run the van fridge on mains power. Oh, just an aside on the fridge. It is small and makes catering a bit of a challenge. In addition, when we are bush camping, we have to run it on gas and that leaves a faint odour of combusted LPG lingering inside the Jayco.  I will take mains power anytime I can get it.

After a quiet night on Friday, we hit Glenelg, a few suburbs south of West Beach. Top spot. Lots of parks, cafés, urban sculpture and a very helpful information centre.  Tram runs right into the city. Next we visited the Botanic gardens and the plan was to visit Adelaide Goal – but it is open everyday of the week except Saturday? So we got all consumerist-y  and went to Rundle Mall instead. It was warm (about 37c) but didn’t really feel that hot – no humidity. We visited Rod’s cousin Jenny for dinner that evening.

This morning we planned to go to the local Anglican Church, but realised it was a Eucharist service, not really child friendly. We randomly drove around and found a Baptist Church that looked a bit more casual. Why does it have to be casual?  Because we have not had haircuts in 6 weeks and even our “good” cloths are looking a bit sus. Fortunately the Baptists didn't seem to mind. They had a Sunday school running at the same time as the service and even though Georgia is a bit old for it, she agreed to accompany Andrew.   Afterwards, one of the Sunday School teachers confessed that she thought we were a homeless family after Georgia prayed that she was thankful for having  a “proper meal”  (i.e. at Rods cousins house) the previous evening, her first since having “left home” five weeks ago. We must be looking seedier than I thought!! Mercifully, the error was sorted out quickly and the rest of the Sunday School class wanted to know all about the Opera House and Luna Park.

For the record, we do eat properly. The menu is simple and often based on something barbecued with salad or pasta. That’s about it.   I guess I will have to work a bit harder in that area and try to come up with a “proper” meal in the future. If only I had been at Maggies farm earlier! I might have got a few suggestions from the test kitchen!

 Our close personal friend, Matthew Flinders - North Terrace Adelaide.

Innes National Park

After such a restful time in Moonta, we headed for the wilds of Innes National Park. The park occupies the south western tip of the Yorke Peninsula.  It was time for a bit of the rough bush camping and I admit to looking forward to it again. Although caravan parks usually have hot showers, BBQ’s and a camp kitchen of sorts, they can also have a few “interesting” neighbours. Don’t get me wrong, the vast majority of our fellow campers are delightful, but we had one group recently who sang. Yes, they sang. They got together at about wine o’clock, dredged up a ukulele, tambourine and one other unidentified string instrument and sang. The repertoire was mostly from the 60’s and 70’s. The words “cruel and unusual” were mentioned in our van.

Anyways, no such problems in National Parks. You see stars you never knew existed and fall asleep to the sound of waves and little else.

To get to Innes we had to pass through Warooka, a town that really needs to work on its slogan. The District council should get better creative next time.

We stopped in Minlaton to visit the very helpful ladies at the information centre. In my experience, the smaller the town, the better the service one finds at these centres. Minlaton was no exception with two ladies providing us with all the good local knowledge, a few laughs and a cheery wave to see us off. I have developed a standard set of questions when entering a town, particularly if we plan to spend a night there. They include “where is the library/supermarket” and “where is the best coffee?” Usually the response to the latter sounds a bit like this: “There are no trained baristas in town”. However, at Port Lincoln I got a great tip from the information lady that resulted in the best flat white on the trip to date. I think Rod blogged about it earlier, so won’t labour the point again here.

Innes is a well organised park with defined camping areas that you can book online, but as usual there are  no showers, no water, no power,  no BBQ’s ( not even solid fuels allowed – complete fire ban from October to April) and in this instance, one pit loo. In my experience, long drops are really quiet good, but pit dunnies are hard work.  The area is really windy and many trees grow with a "wind list". I would recommend utilising a more rigid caravan when visiting this part of the world. The Jayco was buffeted convincingly most of the night, but survived. 

We got a bit lazy this time and for dinner the kids had a cup’o’noodles each. They thought it was Christmas. Rod and I managed baked beans on toast with half a rockmelon to finish.

Innes National Park has some interesting history.  There was an original town, Inneston, established in the early 1900’s to mine gypsum. The company built a town and employed staff for over 30 years until the depression caused a downturn in the building industry (Gypsum is used largely for the manufacture of plaster)  When the venture folded, most people just left  so there still remains several  buildings, infrastructure and some  machinery.  I found this all very interesting and I think for at least a little while, so did everyone else.

Gypsum is found in areas where salt lakes have formed repeatedly through evaporation over time. Even though we did not get to  Lake Eyre, this region is dotted with countless small salt lakes. I think they are very pretty and sparkle in the sunlight.

Inneston tennis court  circa 1905

The coastline around the Yorke Peninsula is deadly. There have been countless shipwrecks dating back to the early 1800’s and some as recently as 1971. One vessel, the “Ethel “was washed aground in  1902 and the remains of its steel hull is still visible along with a boiler from the “Ferret” that also had an unfortunate end.

As usual, the wildlife was out to greet us. We have started to find the emu’s somewhat annoying, they are everywhere. Even my delight in finding a live shingleback lizard has evaporated after having to dodge several of them on the road over the course of a week or two. But above all, the scenery was stunning, the coastline awe inspiring and the remote tranquility a balm for the soul.

Emus everywhere!

As much as I have cherished the wilderness, I think the family is experiencing some urban withdrawal.  Georgia asked today “when was the last time we saw a traffic light?”  We are going to make a big push to Adelaide and get a hit of the city life.

I have mixed feelings regarding Adelaide, having worked here for a short spell in 1989 and also the now infamous “social case in the church” incident. But that story is for another time, and another blog. Thanks for reading folks, and boys, I will let Rod blog again shortly and fill you in on his latest sporting adventures.

STOP PRESS: Georgia clean bowled Rod this afternoon, fair dinkum middle stump. 

Moonta - by Fiona...no sports report in this one.

South Australia is flat. It is just a big slab of desert with a few ranges scattered amongst broad low flat plains.  The ranges themselves are really just a mildly successful attempt to interrupt the plains.  The Flinders Ranges, while stunning, did not soar into the big skies. Mount Remarkable was not named for its height. The children climbed Mount Wudinna in about 15 minutes.  It’s a cyclists paradise.

And it is desert. Endless stretches of low saltbush and sandy soil.  Outcrops of red granite, once rich in copper and iron and even a smack of gold. Nowadays the plains are covered in wheat; it is really the only crop that would thrive with the low rainfall. Most of the mines are gone, except for Whyalla.

Rod tells me SA is not a wealthy state. Apparently from a fiscal perspective, it rates little better than Tasmania. Many of the towns we have passed through only exist because they have a dozen wheat silos and a railhead. Many more are just a memory with a lone dwelling and perhaps a joint that supplies fuel, milk and alcohol.

Clearly, the Eyre and Yorke peninsulas once thrived. I have really enjoyed the architecture of these towns   and when I am able to pry the camera from my husband’s hands I like to photograph them.  The residents have had the foresight to ensure that many building from the turn of last century or the early 20^th century survived.  Those that have surged ahead have had the fortune of a deep shipping port or tapped into a secondary industry like tourism or tuna.

We stopped at a little hamlet called Port Germain. No idea why the place is still there, but it does have the longest timber jetty in the southern hemisphere. It was 1.6 km long, but I think a bit fell off the end because it is only about 1.5 today. Of course it shipped out grain in the days before the supertankers moved it. The tides on Spencer gulf a quite drastic, so you would need a really long jetty so the ships don’t fall over every 12 hours.

Does anyone have any idea what the above is ? It was sitting next to the long jetty and I couldn't find any information regarding it's purpose. I will publish the most creative or plausible suggestion. 

At the moment we are staying on the copper coast, past of the western side of the Yorke Peninsula, or “YP” to the locals. It is nicknamed “Little Cornwall” due to its mining past. Copper was mined and smelted very successfully in the late 1800’s until the 1930’s. Many Cornish and Welsh immigrants were brought to the area as a much needed skilled workforce.

Two little copper miners

We have found a beautiful spot right on the bay at a place called Moonta. It’s a real gem and being only 160km from Adelaide, the town has managed to position itself as a weekend getaway, seachange or even retirement destination.  Rod nor I have no idea how such a place supports it’s healthy and evidently growing population, but there it is.

View from my Moonta bedroom window

I know all of the above because I read the historical information. The rest of the family, however, do not seem to care. The mere mention of a self-guided historical walk about town produces cold sweats. If I even dare to suggest we visit the local heritage museum, all three of them flee in horror.

The children are moths to flame if we see a bakery or a skate park. Rod is inexplicably drawn to the local Golf Club (every town seems to have one – even the towns that are barely towns)  As for me, I am working on my thong tan (let me be clear people, we are talking about a tan on my foot) and the quest for clean underwear.

Just an aside on laundry matters. None of the cloths we have brought with us will survive.  Firstly, because we only bought a handful of outfits each and the rotation rate is so high. Secondly, no one brought pyjamas and it is cold at night so we sleep in our cloths. Lastly, when we do get to wash, it is in industrial strength Laundromat style machines – absolutely brutal. We will be in shredded rags by January. Watch the pictures folks, it could get nasty.

Anyway, it’s getting late and we need to be up early tomorrow, it’s moving day. Off to Innes National Park at the foot of the YP for a few days bush camping

Sunset of the day taken from the front door of the van.

The Methodist church in Moonta. Just one of the many stunning historical buildings about town,

Whyalla

Whyalla

We headed out in the morning from Coffin Bay to Port Lincoln. We planned to visit our friends at the Port Lincoln Baptist church but it seems once a month they worship at another  satellite location which happened to be today. So we continued up the east coast of the Eyre Peninsula. We stopped in at Tumby Bay which was very nice,  Arno Bay and Cowell, which were a bit average and arrived at Whyalla late afternoon. We checked into a caravan park with electricity and showers which was a big thing after 3 nights of bush camping.

After dinner, we checked out town which I thought was quite pleasant. It had nice wide streets and the foreshore area where the caravan park was was impressive.

The next day was blowing a gale from the moment we woke up. In the morning we did a tour of the Whyalla steelworks.

 After lunch, we headed to the Whyalla public library for a big schoolwork session for Georgia and Andrew. A funny moment at my expense occurred here. Technology and technology based conversations are not my strong suit. Fiona sent me up to get a wifi code so we could use the library’s internet connections. The lady was asking all kinds of information, wanting me to fill out forms , sent me out to get my id, checked my id against the form, entered it into a computer etc. I was thinking at this point I could have done what I needed to do three times over by the time you finish with me. Anyway when I returned, apparently I had become a member of all public libraries in South Australia. This was a source of great mirth for Fiona, Georgia and even Andrew. They wanted to know had I also joined the Whyalla Steelworks Association as well. No doubt they will get some mileage out of this, but I will instantly produce my SA library card as a sign of authority next time they annoy me.

After finishing at the library, we headed off to some of the lookouts over Whyalla. If anything the gale force winds became even stronger. 

Finally we gave up and headed home for an early dinner and bunkered in for the night. The winds continued to howl well into the early hours of the morning. By breakfast time it had blown itself out and the weather was perfect. Pity we were leaving. Andrew Burton joined me for a pre breakfast run along the beach.

Next stop Moonta Yorke Peninsula

Coffin Bay Port Lincoln

We travelled further down the Flinders highway to Coffin Bay. Just like the trip from Streaky Bay to Elliston, Elliston to Coffin Bay had little of anything along the way. We arrived in Coffin Bay early afternoon and headed straight for the national park for another bush camp. We were lucky and found an excellently located camp right on the bay. The national park is picturesque with again plenty of emus, roos and rabbits to watch out for.

We headed into town for something to eat and a look around. This is the town of the weekenders. Lovely houses hugging the bay with beautiful waterfront views. It is a pretty seaside town and I think a step up from Streaky Bay. Needs a few more shops though.

Three days bush camping does wonders for your hair

Little girl lost at Coffin Bay

We headed back into the national park for a swim in the Southern ocean. The water was icy and had that clear turquoise polar colour about it. It was very refreshing. After dinner by the bay in town, we had a relatively early night.

The next day we headed into Port Lincoln. It had a lovely foreshore aspect to it. The main thoroughfare along the water reminded me a little of Manly wharf. We checked out the scenic lookout, drove around the well to do areas of the tuna barons and looked around the marina.

After lunch we visited a boat museum and then did a foreshore walk out to the bulk grain handling wharf where wheat/grain from the thousands of acres we have driven by in this state are harvested, transported and loaded into cargo ships and exported overseas. Port Lincoln is a deep water port so it is a major industry for the city. They also have a statue of Mycabe Diva prominently placed in the park on the foreshore. The connection is the owner comes from Port Lincoln. A fishermans wharf central market/eatery at the marina, and a large leagues club in the town centre would set this town alight.

Fiona enjoys a coffee from Rogue and Rascall that she thought was equal to her local Beecroft coffee haunt Longshots.

Master Andrew surveying the port

After dinner in the northern hotel and some oysters Kilpatrick, we headed back to our home base at Coffin Bay. As usual, heading through a national park at dusk is a nervous experience with emus, roos and rabbits competing with each other to see how many of them can be run over by throwing themselves at your car.

Well as the folks from Coffin Bay say - Oyster la vista baby.

Next stop, Whyalla

Elliston Final Assessment

I knew there as a reason I liked Elliston

The local football team is the Elliston Roosters

Elliston

Elliston

We left Streaky Bay and headed down the Flinders Highway on the Eyre Peninsula West Coast on a grey windy day with rain threatening for a 130km trip to Elliston. There was not a lot of development or anything else for that matter between Streaky Bay and Elliston. We did stop off at an interesting rock formation within some wheat fields called Murphy’s Haystacks.

Early afternoon we arrived at Walkers Beach about 10km north of Elliston. It was bush camp time. The camp site was well patronised right on the beach that was many miles of white sand and surf where you could pick your spot for a swim.

I have to say, there was not much to the town of Elliston itself. However, the surrounding headlands and tourist drives along the cliffs were very impressive if not spectacular.

The weather closed in so we headed back to camp for a rest and then an early dinner. However after dinner the weather cleared and allowed us a game of cricket on the beach.

And then it happened ; a significant moment on the trip. I bowled a delivery that will to go down as one of the greatest deliveries ever produced on the West Coast of the Eyre Peninsula ever to be caught on camera. With the guile and cunning, with exquisite use of the gusty westerly winds, I delivered what I knew was the perfect ball as soon as the ball left my fingertips and was in flight. The ball deceivingly drifted away from the right handed batsman Georgia Burton, tempting her to chase it and thus open up a gap between bat and pad. The ball then dropped suddenly, bamboozling her in flight. As it hit the turf, it viciously cut back like a knife in a significant off break to slice between bat and pad to take out the middle stump and then spun into the off and leg stumps in a chilling death rattle of timber. I am sure at that moment I heard music and saw a flash of lightning in clear blue skies. The batsman was emotionally distraught at facing such a delivery. She needed several hours of intense counselling after the experience to regain her equilibrium. I fear I have only snuffed out a promising and burgeoning female cricketing career before it has begun. Henceforth, this delivery will be remembered as “ Elliston ball”.

After an early morning run along the beach which was lovely and a cold shower, it was off to Coffin Bay at the bottom of the Eyre Peninsula.