Category: Australia (Page 2 of 7)

Port Lincoln – Smoky Bay 2020

February 26, 2020 /

9th February – We arrived from Coffin Bay around noon and settled in to the Port Lincoln Caravan Park. The main task on the agenda was finding the necessary mechanical help for our respective issues, the Dawsons for their non-operative electric trailer brakes and us for our persistent boat motor problem with regular stoppages until the engine is fully warmed up. The caravan park showed the signs of damage from a recent storm, when an unprecedented rainfall deluged Port Lincoln. Signs of severe erosion were evident around the park and there were lots of piles of road base and some earth moving equipment parked around showing restoration was underway.

Set u in Port Lincoln Caravan Park

We hit the supermarkets and stocked up on essentials before resting up, feeling somewhat bushed after a week on the water.

10th – 13th February – Bill and Mary managed a contact at the local caravan repair place who pronounced the electric hydraulic brake server as dead and in need of replacement. That pretty much sealed them up for 3 or 4 days waiting for parts. In the meantime, we had gone to “Sparks and Spanners”, a local mechanical firm with a name that sounded like they could deal with either a mechanical or an electrical issue with our boat. We were booked in for the following day for a diagnosis.

One day followed another, with one or the other towing our boats off site to visit the repair people. Ours failed to get a definitive diagnosis but then it failed to fail, running perfectly just when we promised it would fail. The Dawsons sat waiting on a courier delivery of the necessary parts. Each day we found some reason to visit the supermarkets, Bunnings or some place down town. The great joy of Port Lincoln is that visiting anywhere is relatively easy and parking is always available and free. It really is the perfect town. It has all the shops one could need, a traffic system that suffers a little from a rail line running through its centre but is otherwise very manageable, and plenty of parking. Add to all this, a glorious seaside vista and some picturesque hills surrounding the town and you have a little slice of heaven.

Port Lincoln Foreshore
Port Lincoln Foreshore

Wednesday  12th February was a lay day for both of us, so we organised a trip to the “Whalers Way”, a coastal scenic tour some 33kms south of Lincoln. The route is a private road beyond the National Park and a key is needed (along with $33 a car) from the Port Lincoln Tourist Centre. The road is unsealed, not really 4WD but still rough in places. Along the way are numerous well sign posted spots to take in a coastal feature, whether it be a high cliff, a beautiful bay or one of the many “crevasses” in the region. The coast here is limestone overlaying ancient basalt and the basalt has suffered significant fractures in places, creating spectacular crevasses. The waves surging through these formations makes for a great spectacle, the most amazing being Theakstone Crevasse with its perfectly straight and deep walls.

Theakstone Crevasse

At Cape Wiles, we overlooked the rocks far below and saw large numbers of fur seals dotting the rocks. We had packed a picnic lunch so we headed for the marked BBQ area, expecting a few facilities to be present. There was very little to attract, with only a couple of ramshackle toilets and a scattering of concrete picnic tables. The designers of the tables had forgotten to measure the length of the average human torso because, when seated, the table height was just under the chin. It makes it easy to shovel your food in.

The whole area is due to change in the next few years with a company called Southern Launch set to build a commercial rocket launching facility not far from the BBQ area. The Koreans have already undertaken to launch a series of low orbit satellites from the facility.

Whalers Way is a pretty little diversion with some excellent scenery.

Look carefully and you will see the fur seals

14 February – Eventually, the Dawsons had a new brake system on their trailer and we had a boat motor that appeared to be fixed. I say “appeared” because it was working but it was not definitively clear what had been wrong with it. It had been crawled over by a mechanic and a sparky from “Sparks and Spanners”, been hooked up to a diagnostic computer that only showed one non-fatal error and had a minor part replaced.

We organised to put to sea and test everything out with a relatively short trip to Spalding Cove, about 6nm from Port Lincoln. Depending on the boat’s performance and the weather, we could then venture further afield to the Sir Joseph Banks Group of islands offshore. Both boats were fuelled at the MoGas at the Lincoln Cove Marina which seems cheaper than elsewhere and is also the only reliable source of block ice we have found.

Once at the launching ramp, we had to wait a few hours for the tide to ensure the Dawsons had enough water. A car turned up and a couple unloaded a catch to clean at the cleaning facility. Hoping to get some fish frames for crab bait, Bill and I joined them and admired their catch of three large bluefin tuna, a large blue groper and a respectable nannygai or bight red fish.  They had caught the fish further up on the west coast of the peninsula, which was good because blue groper are protected around Port Lincoln. They generously gave us not only the tuna frames but some good slabs of tuna and all of the groper and nannygai. We suddenly had a surfeit of quality fish and crab bait. The couple told us to make sure we only washed the groper fillets in sea water, because fresh water would make the flesh rubbery. Later, it was to prove delicious and certainly not rubbery. The tuna too was really beautiful, a far cry from the tuna we have caught in tropical waters.

With the tide rising, our boat started and ran under idle at the jetty while Bill and I parked the vehicles up next to a couple of grey nomads that had taken up residence in the carpark. The general concensus amongst locals was that the vehicles would be safe enough.

The run out to Spalding Cove was easy enough with only light winds and our boat performed beautifully. Once around Surfleet Point, we pulled up on some likely looking ground in the hope of catching some whiting. The fishing was poor and the only action came from crabs, pulling slowly away at the baits. Bill managed to get one up to the boat before it dropped the bait. We decided to move to the southern end of the cove. Oh oh, a turn of the key failed to produce the usual rumble of the fuel pump priming and the engine just turned over without firing. We checked everything we could, sprayed a few contacts, unplugged a few things and plugged them back but … nothing. This time, it was not going to start. I checked further and pulled out the high tension lead from the coil… and it came out in pieces. Now the fuel pump didn’t matter. No wire, no fire.

We organised a tow and Bill towed us the 2 nm down to the bottom of the cove to set up an anchorage for the night. I dropped the plough anchor into the sand and hung back over the weed. Later, I used the dinghy to carry the marsh anchor into the weed, giving a little more peace of mind.

15th February – We all slept late, staying at anchor until late morning. We left our boat at anchor and joined Dawsons for a fishing trip, with whiting and crabs being the main targets. With the wind SE, Fishermans Point looked to be a quiet location so we headed off. A local had suggested that there was a professional crabber working the area and sure enough, we came across a line of half a dozen floats. He must have taken care of the crab population because we only managed one, admittedly a huge creature, but still only one. There were large numbers of a small rock crabs but no blue swimmers. The whiting were not much better, with only four across several hours. After lunch, we moved to the western side of the cove and put out the pots in 20’ of water. Here, the pots yielded a better return, with 4 enormous crabs, the biggest measuring 64cm across the nippers. Each crab was a full meal. The whiting also obliged and we ended up with 10 big fat king george and a flat head.

16th February – The next morning saw the wind had shifted from southerly to ESE, pushing us around to even shallower water. I spent an amusing half hour mucking around with the two anchors and the dinghy. It is interesting trying to drag a 20lb anchor with 30 metres of chain attached with an inflatable dinghy and 3.3hp outboard. The anchor wins every time. Finally, I got things established and Bill was able to drag us into deeper water.

Bill and I used the very low tide to go ashore and collect a big supply of cockles. The cockles here are very numerous and if we hadn’t been so well off for seafood, we would have collected some to make spaghetti vongole.

We then moved the boats to a location were the water was deeper closer in and prepared to fish once again. We fished the same location on the western side of the cove and caught consistent whiting, ending with a dozen. The crab nets didn’t go in but Bill still managed another monster crab on a line.

17th February – With the weekend over, the crowds had thinned and we figured the ramps would be quiet enough to allow a towed boat to berth easily without interference from other boats. The tow back took an hour and a half but when we got to Billy Lights Point the tide was low and there was not enough room on the finger jetties for two boats. We waited on the tide for a number of hours, relaxing at anchor and even catching a couple of squid. Finally, the water was deemed high enough and the wind perfect, it blowing straight down the ramp. The tow in and subsequent berthing went without a hitch, other than me dropping my glasses overboard (later retrieved with Bill’s long handled landing net) and we were soon ashore once again.

The mechanics suggested we bring the boat straight in but we held off for the night and organised an early morning inspection. It was back to the caravan park.

18th February – The early morning trip to the mechanic’s shed was becoming a ritual. The shed was an extra to the normal “Sparks and Spanners” address but here they could use water and run boat motors without flooding the auto shop. We had learnt to rise early, tow the boat to the shed then settle down to make breakfast. Alan showed up just after breakfast and starting in on the diagnostics again.

After the initial probes showed nothing but still no power to the fuel pump, Alan pulled the relay, jiggled it and plugged it back in. Magically, the fuel pump came to life. “Ah ah.. it’s the relay.” “Replace both relays”, we said with more than average confidence the problem would go away.

The rest of day passed with chores, a long walk and lots of reading.

19th February – It really was a matter of waiting on the plane from Adelaide to (hopefully) deliver our relays. We busied ourselves with a few tasks, shopping, and waiting for the plane. It was starting prove awkward for the Dawsons, who had solved their mechanical issues and were sitting in Lincoln waiting for us. We had organised to go to the movies at the historic Port Lincoln Cinema at 4pm. Thankfully, we got a call to say the relays were in around 2pm so we picked up the parts and fitted them. A turn of the key… still no fuel pump. We wiggled things and jiggled things but still no fuel pump. In a fit of deep depression, we headed for the movies.

The depression was hardly lifted by the movie. “1917” had won an Oscar for best cinematography, and rightly so, but the movie itself was two hours of utter terror. The main character was shot at, wounded, bashed, stabbed, cut and spent the entire story in a state of terror. So did I. It was an excellent movie but not one for the weak of heart.

20th February – It was back to the shed for breakfast. Alan showed up once again and went back into his diagnostic pattern. The computer again showed all normal and the testing showed power to the fuel pump, but the pump was clearly not coming on. In a flash of inspiration, he tested the final plug to the fuel pump. It had a good +ve connection but a very flaky earth. A quick trip back to the shop for a new plug and a fitting. Our sprits were lifting. This was a real find and even a simple visual inspection of the negative terminal showed it was a different colour and looked “dodgy”.

In the meantime, Dawsons had determined that they would press on for Streaky Bay, with their personal deadlines looming. On receiving news that we might be on a winner, they parked up at the boat ramp at Billy Lights Point to wait for us.

With the new plug fitted, the engine fired up immediately, no questions asked. We thanked Alan and headed out to join Dawsons at Billy Lights Point, where we spent the next couple of hours running the engine, stopping it, starting it again etc, until we were confident that this dreadful thing was finally behind us.

Fully assured of the fix, we all set off for Streaky Bay, a drive of around 350km, and settled in to the Foreshore Caravan Park. With camp established, we set off to explore the options for launching and anchoring up.

The Streaky Bay launching ramp is about 8km out of town at Shag Point. The best thing about the facility is its expansive car park, one that locals assured us was perfectly safe to use for leaving the car. A permit is required, at $5 a day, $15 a week or $30 a month obtainable from the Visitors Centre of one of the fuel outlets. However, the facility itself was in a sad state of disrepair, with one of two jetties having been removed pending replacement and the other looking like something out of “1917”. Shag Point gave only cursory protection from the afternoon strong southerly. It did not look like much fun.

21 February – We decided that we could afford to delay launching at Streaky Bay and explore further. With a picnic lunch packed, we set off with the cars to drive 70km north to Smoky Bay to check it out as a possible alternative. Smoky Bay is a tiny hamlet with only the one shop, a general everything type place. In contrast to Streaky Bay, it boasts a brand new four lane launching ramp deep enough to handle almost all tides, and protected from the south.

We talked to the fisher folk pulling boats from the water to hear tales that varied from “the fishing’s very poor” through to “we bagged out and left them biting”. Of course, we believed nothing anyway but it was good to see some helpful cheerful people.  After a delicious sausage sizzle BBQ near the jetty, we did a full tour of town (about 2 minutes worth) and headed off. Bill and Mary went exploring, which actually consisted of Mary pleading with Bill to turn back before they got bogged (again), while we stopped in at a quaint little caravan park just on the edge of town to enquire about storing our boat for our trip to Tasmania. We met a very helpful chap who assured us all would be well and we left with a feeling of confidence in the security and care offered.

Once back in Streaky Bay, we organised for another move. The Dawsons arrived, having seen many kilometres of sand tracks and mangroves but not much else of interest.

22 February – We broke camp and towed the boats north to Smoky Bay, arriving to find a crowded car park with lots of little dinghies out and about. We first had to drop in to the general store (the only store) to purchase a ramp permit. We chose to buy a week’s permit at $25. Launching went without a hitch, except for Bill forgetting to take his tie-down strap off. Our motor behaved itself and soon we were both off to explore and load up on fish. The local boats seemed to be dotted everywhere so we just picked some likely looking water and tried our luck. Over a few hours, we only caught a few king George whiting between us. Oh well, the fridges were still full of fish from Port Lincoln.

Smoky Bay Launching Ramp

Things got a little trickier when looking for a nice anchorage for the night. In front of town looked inviting in a southerly through to north easterly but the wind had freshened to the SW and it was a little sloppy. Bill and Mary anchored up in the lee of the jetty to wait for the wind to swing south. We went and docked at the ramp to collect something from the car and a small boat came in alongside. They advised us to headed into the small bay south of the town and seek the other side, where a series of estuaries offer great shelter. We were assured the depth was OK.

The next hour and a half consisted of slowly motoring around an impossible series of channels and flats, mostly running out of water and not managing the safe harbour we were promised. Eventually, we gave up and returned, to find the area in front of town was now far nicer, with the wind well and truly in the south. We put the plough anchor down and backed it up with our marsh anchor. As the evening progressed, the wind abated to produce a lovely evening, a pattern that was repeated for the next few days.

We anchored each night on the other side of the jetty.

23 February – We spent a fairly fruitless day searching for fish, the most difficult day we have had the whole trip. The whiting seemed to elude us. There were a lot of boats out and we sometimes even sat amongst a group but no one appeared to be catching anything.

We explored as far afield as Cape D’Estrees and fished a big variety of waters but all was quiet. You get days like that. Bill and Mary stayed down near Eyre Island and fared no better than us. Eventually, with the tide high, we went ashore at a pretty little white sand bay with an attractive headland at Saddle Peak. We decided to wade ashore, finding the water warm and refreshing. A short distance from the boat, Christine spied a nice big crab so I went back to the boat for the landing net while she kept herding it back towards me. It was into the net, for the crab. We checked out the rocks on the headland for oysters but there were none. We scraped the sands with our hands for cockles but there were none. Heading back to the boat with our crab, we came across a lone king George whiting sunning himself over the shallow sands. He seemed to be relaxing, so I scooped him up to join the crab. He certainly came to life once in the net. We at least had a lunch.

In the afternoon, the fishing improved a little and I caught a couple of KG whiting. Bill had more success with five fish.

24 February – We decided to try crabbing, having seen others with pots out and a few crabs in the shallows. Our boat was left at anchor and we headed off in the Dawson’s boat. All we had for bait was a few trumpeters from the previous day and the heads from the fish cleaning. Still, we rigged these up and found some likely looking ground, drifting for squid between pulls. Three runs produced only 1 crab so we moved spots. We must have moved to stingray heaven because as quickly as we put the pots down, the baits were eaten. We had to work hard catching herring between runs just to keep up but the baits were gone within minutes. Twice, we pulled pots to see a crab on the outside of the pot. Sadly, we ended with just the one.

By lunchtime, we had had enough and returned to our boat to relax for the rest of the afternoon. Bill and Mary were energetic enough to go ashore for a good walk but we just lazed around on the boat and watched the passing parade of dinghies and oyster boats. The oyster boats don’t seem to have any mode other than “flat out”. They are flat bottomed aluminium craft between 7 and 10 metres in length with an open deck and an outboard on the back. They arrive at the ramp on jinker type trailers, often hauled by tractor. We have seen some launched by a single operator, who just backs quickly down the ramp until the craft floats free, dashes off the tractor and out the jetty in time to grab the boat and secure it, tear back up the ramp to the tractor and hastily park it before sprinting back to the waiting boat. Then it’s off and racing. The same boats seem to come and go all day, sometimes carrying heavy loads of oyster cages and sometimes doing the same with just a couple of containers. Fuel must be a major expense. At $15 to $18 a dozen, I guess they can afford it. There are quite a number of operators in Smoky Bay, possibly 10 or more, and huge areas of beds scattered around the shallows. It must be a good employer.

Sorting Oysters
There are several streets full of oyster sheds. Oysters are big business in Smoky Bay

25 February – It was haul out day, our last on the water for this trip. With the tide very low in the morning, there was no great sense of urgency and we lazily cleared a few things away, retrieved the inflatable and stored it deflated on the front deck and generally readied the boat for the ramp. The Dawsons tried a spot of fishing but there was nothing doing and they followed us in around 11am.

We set up camp at Baldwins Caravan Park, on the road out of town. It is a basic place with simple but clean amenities and a great rate of $25 a night. Even better, they were prepared to store our boat for the three weeks in Tasmania for no charge, a very generous offer.

We made a small start to the job of preparing for life out of the car, had an icecream at the on and only Smoky Bay shop and had a rather lengthy afternoon nap.

26 February – Bill and Mary left today, on their way home with one last bit of boating at Ceduna, only 40kms to the north of us. We put in pretty much a full day’s work, changing a tire, reorganising food, washing clothes, cleaning the inflatable, spraying rust protectant over trailer brakes and boat motor etc etc. We were very glad we had allocated ourselves the extra day for organisation because we were surprised at just how much we had to do.  We did find time to nip out and buy two dozen fresh oysters at $12 a dozen. They are huge and, being live and closed up, will last quite while. We can have a feast on the road.

Our S.A. cruising holiday has come to an end. It was not quite everything we had planned because of the problems with the boat motor but we still spent a total of 14 days on the water. Bill and Mary were wonderful company and the alternate cooking arrangement meant that we each got to go out to dinner every second night. In a way, the motor problems were a blessing, because we were at least in an environment where it was easy to take it back to the water, test it, then head back to the mechanic. I learnt an awful lot about the motor and now have a large degree of confidence in it, especially the fuel system.

The final tally for the motor repairs is frightening. We had a new fuel pump and fuel cooler fitted for around $1000, an air temperature sensor was another $140 plus labour, two relays added another $95 plus labour and finally, the part that was actually defective, the plug, cost a mere $14. The first person we took it to in Perth and who had the boat for a whole day wanted to lift the engine out and charge us around $3000.  The horrible thing is there is just nothing one can do about it. In the case of the Port Lincoln mechanics, they worked with me alongside all the way and so I figure I at least got some excellent education for the money.

The $14 part that caused all the fuss.

Overall, the fishing was steady, though unspectacular. This also was good because we easily had enough to eat without having to clean and store more fish than we needed. The lack of squid was definitely disappointing, despite many hours of trying. The last time we were in this part of the World, we had lots of squid. I blame climate change and Donald Trump.

Next stops…Melbourne then Tasmania.

Eyre Peninsula – Coffin Bay 2020

February 16, 2020 /

The grand plan consists of towing the boat over the Nullabor Plain to the Eyre Peninsula in South Australia, meeting Bill and Mary, whose boat (Larsen Cabrio 27) is currently in storage in Gawler SA, and spending a month exploring the many beautiful coastal locations that dot the triangular shaped feature. We have sailed many of the locations on our trailer sailer, Sandpiper, back in 2012. This time around, we have a power boat in the form of a Whittley Cruisemaster 700 called Lesueur, a seagoing caravan with lots of mod cons. The ability to move quickly when the southern coast’s fickle weather takes a turn for the worse will be a huge advantage.

We had a planned leaving date of January 27th, after cooking an Australia Day breakfast for 46 at the caravan park in Kingsley. However, a huge heat wave cell developed and the projections were to make the entire 1900km trip to Ceduna in 40 degree plus temperatures. No way!

We made the 150km trip to Dowerin and holed up for three days, staying inside and watching the Australian Open Tennis for most of the time. To go outside was to get a lung roasting, the temperature on the back patio peaking at 47 degrees.

By January 30th, we were able to set off, cutting through to Great Eastern Highway at Merredin and then heading east to Coolgardie and south to Norseman. The first night was spent in a woodland camp about 15km east of Norseman.

Our overnight camp outside of Norseman.

The second day was one of admiring the Western Woodlands, for hour after hour. These huge extensive woodlands  To quote DPAW, “It is regarded as the largest remaining area of intact Mediterranean-climate woodland left on Earth and contains about 3000 species of flowering plants, about a fifth of all known flora in Australia. It includes nearly a quarter of Australia’s eucalypt species, many of which grow nowhere else in the world, and its varied habitats are home to a diverse array of mammals, reptiles, frogs and birds.” Wow! We actually saw no wildlife; drove through many kilometres of burnt out woodland and saw huge piles of human rubbish in every roadside stop we utilised. Despite this, the Woodlands are beautiful, the variety of vegetation and the enormity of the area demands acknowledgement.

We pushed on, putting in a 700km+ drive for the day and over nighting in the Eucla Caravan Park for the princely sum of $25 a night. Along the way, we were “entertained” by an idiot in a light coloured 4WD towing a large van who passed us (80km/hr) at a considerable rate and proceeded to lose control when pulling in front of us. We kept up the conversation of “Oh Oh.. they’re gone.   Oh no, this is it!!”  as we watched them fish tail down the road trying to regain control. They managed once, before returning to the fish tail dance before finally backing off the speed and getting control. Idiots!! I really think we need a special licence for towing.

Our third night on the road was on the SA side of the Nullarbor, in Streaky Bay. Bill and Mary had picked up their rig in Gawler, SA and headed to Port Pirie to wait out the heat cell that had preceded us across the Nullarbor. They suffered 46 degree heat, 50mm rain storms and more before heading west to overnight in Tumby Bay ready for a rendezvous with us in Coffin Bay, at the bottom of the Eyre Peninsula.

On day four, we pulled into the caravan park at Coffin Bay to find Dawsons parked up at reception, having beaten us by only 15 minutes or so, an amazing rendezvous after a four day drive across the continent. We spent the rest of the day checking out the launching facilities, changing a tyre, swapping anchors to the locally favoured “Marsh Anchor”. This anchor is designed to dig into the weed beds that are so predominant in SA waters. Bill and Mary had our 8kg model that we had bought in 2014 when we were here with Sandpiper, as well as a new 13kg beast that Bill worried was too big. I looked at our Marsh anchor and worried it would not be enough.

By February 3rd, we were ready to launch, although we rose late, fluffed around getting fuel and topping up water tanks. It was around 10:30am by the time we actually got to the ramps and launched. Bill and I drove the cars back to the caravan park to a fairly secure location out the back and a very kind chap camped nearby drove us back the 1.2km back to the ramp.

We motored off to the shelter of a small headland strangely named Point Misery at the start of Mount Dutton Bay and anchored up to fish. Between us, we caught enough for dinner, with 4 nice King George Whiting and a dozen or so herring. Then we headed north up Mount Dutton Bay to seek an overnight anchorage in Little Mount Dutton Bay, a shallow but fairly protected inlet. On our first night on the water, we dined on Dawson’s boat with Bill cooking up the day’s catch. As the wind picked up, it was obvious that our 8kg Marsh Anchor was not up to the job of holding a Whittley 700 and we swapped out to our normal 20lb plough anchor. Bill’s 13kg marsh proved more than adequate for the job on his big Larsen. That night, we had a grand feast on the proceeds of the day in wonderful surroundings with good company. What more could one ask for?

The sun setting over the Dawson’s Larsen

February 4th – The boat motor, which had previously given trouble by cutting out on a regular basis, decided to revert to this annoying behaviour when we went to raise anchor. After about four restarts, we were underway and things went beautifully for the rest of the day. Still, it is a worry and we are grateful that we have company.

We spent the day fishing, mostly in Mount Dutton Bay. The King George Whiting proved elusive, although Bill and Mary managed one big one each. I contented myself with collecting a bag full of mussels and huge oysters. Coffin bay is famous for its oysters and their cultivation forms the main industry of the town. Wild ones are not common but can be found in enough numbers to make collecting a dozen possible without a great deal of effort. As the afternoon wore on, the wind tended to shift away from SE to more S and we headed away from Mount Dutton Bay to seek a more protected overnight spot between Rabbit Island and the back of the township. It was our turn to host dinner and Christine cooked up Spaghetti Chilli Mussels so it was another night in paradise.

February 5th – Today was another day of trying to find the King George Whiting, but not before we had a repeat of the engine issues when first raising anchor. It seems the engine is not happy when cold. The fishing didn’t go much better, with plenty of herring available but only one whiting. Bill tried crabbing but he had no joy, feeding all his bait to a seal that happily followed him around as he dropped his nets. We spent most of the day in the Port Douglas area. There were quite a few other boats around and we tried fishing near them, but without luck. It is still wonderful to be out on the water and we certainly don’t lack for food. As the wind came around to the SW we shifted and made our way around all the oyster farms and on to anchor off Little Port Douglas, a small hamlet surrounding a tidal inlet. It was a big bouncy but had good holding.  An afternoon nap was definitely in order but I snuck in a catch of two good sized salmon before retiring.

However, the bouncy part increased as the wind shifted to true S and so we pushed on towards the open ocean and around into Farm Beach, where there were a half dozen or so boats moored and a scattering of small buildings on the beach. We anchored over what looked to be wonderful squidding water but the squid were either elusive or missing.

6th February – We woke late and had a lazy breakfast. We were all feeling the effects of life afloat and needed a walk somewhere so we decided to go back to Little Mount Douglas and explore the village. With the tide low, we had to take the long way around and so the trip took longer than expected. As we anchored up off the tiny mouth to Little Mount Dutton Creek, a couple of oyster boats appeared and charged towards the inlet at a huge rate. We were anchored a couple of hundred metres out because the water is only a foot and a bit deep but the oyster boats simply tilted their huge outboards and hit the throttle. Spewing an enormous rooster tail, they belted over the shallows and found the sanctuary of the slightly deeper water of the creek. It was an amazing feat.

The lagoon at Little Mount Dutton

Meanwhile, we putted in with the rubber ducks scraping the bottom, anchored them on a pretty little beach and wandered up into a surprisingly large collection of well made beach homes. At the top of the pathway we met a local bloke, a retired whiting fisherman who was born and raised in Little Mount Dutton. He bemoaned the coming of the oyster fisherman and suggested that they were responsible for many of the things that are now wrong with the place but we saw little to agree on and remained silent.

We walked for a bit and explored the limited area. There are no shops or pubs or anything of that nature but there is a whole heap of evident pride in the little location. Everything is incredibly neat and tidy.

Back on the boats, we decided to head back into the confines of Coffin Bay and followed a path around the massive oyster leases. The sight of some long stretches of white beach over towards the Black Springs area beckoned and we changed course to explore. With the wind in the south, there were any number of possible anchorages to try and fish and to settle in for the night. We settled on one small bay that was fine unless things went too far east. After a wonderful meal of fresh salmon with basil peso (don’t let anyone tell you Australian Salmon are poor eating), we settled in for a long game of “Phase 10” (an addictive but frustrating card game) with Dawsons.

By the time Bill finally won, it was starting to get a little rolly. By the time we woke up around 11pm, it was extremely rolly. For some reason (probably a tide flow), both boats hug across the waves, which were bigger than expected because of the ESE wind. We swung, lurched, banged against a wave, rocked then settled to a brief calm, before repeating the whole process. It was horrible. Both Bill and I separately considered the merits of a midnight move and rejected the idea. It was really horrible, but not dangerous so we all put up with a night from hell.

7th February – The wind and waves finally abated around 4am, and everyone got such much needed sleep. That didn’t stop me getting up at 7:30 and announcing that it was a quick breakfast and leave to seek the comfort of numerous anchorage choices closer to town. We motored off through Port Douglas and back to Point Misery for a short fish. Only the herring were biting so we didn’t stay long, electing to go to town for a spot of shopping and a pie (such indulgence).

Anchored off the Yacht Club at Coffin Bay townsite

Both boats anchored off the yacht club, the tide being far too low to contemplate using the jetty, and we went ashore in the rubber ducks. Unfortunately, the supplies of block ice at Beachcombers had not been replenished so we made do with bagged ice and a few other supplies. Then we all sat outside and devoured some truly wonderful pies. It’s not as though we aren’t eating well on the boat but somehow the thought of purchased food made it all the more exciting.

On the way through the channel, we noticed a local fishing alone right on the edge of the channel. He seemed to be pretty cagey about us seeing whether he was catching anything so we decided that spot was worth a go.

Sure enough, it yielded quite a few king george whiting, of which four were size for us and five for Bill and Mary. Plenty of quality fish.  At 30cm size limit, a legal sized king George is a respectable fish and yields a lot of flesh. We settled back into the shallows between the back of town and Rabbit Island for the night, which was very comfortable and quiet.

8th February – We had a fairly lazy day, getting up late and lingering over breakfast until around 9:30. Bill and I headed off to the sand flats on the falling tide and collected some cockles for whiting bait, easily managing enough. Once we had them opened and ready for the hook, we headed back to the spot on the edge of the channel and picked up some more nice fat whiting. Served as crumbed fillets with some fried rice they should do the trick.

It is almost time to consider pulling out. We have explored a lot of Coffin Bay and pretty much experienced what it has to offer. As with our last visit, finding enough seafood to live on is not hard, the water simply teems with life. Water supplies are holding out but need watching, fuel is still good, with about 100 litres of 200 litres used having covered around 65nm. The toilet will need emptying soon, not something that can be considered in a big inlet where oysters are cultivated. Perhaps we will go to Port Lincoln tomorrow.

9th February – We did our homework on the tides and found that we had two key timeslots; either pull out by 9:30 or wait until after 2pm. We rose before sunrise at 6:30 to make sure that we had time to prepare for haul out at 9am. The cars and trailers were at the caravan park ($3 per day storage in a secure spot) which is about 1.5km from the ramps so we devised a plan to drop the girls off near the caravan park so they could drive up to the ramps with the trailers while we motored back. All went well, although the tide was already very low and getting the inflatable ashore with the girls was touch and go.

The tide was hammering out, creating a strong current across the jetties at the ramps. The current was assisted by the breeze so coming alongside was tricky to say the least. I messed up the first approach and even the bow thrusters couldn’t rescue me so I pulled back and went about for a second shot. Bill’s approach looked spot on until something happened at the last minute and he ended up broadside across the space between two jetties. I managed to slip straight into a berth on the second attempt and went to help Mary haul on the lines to straighten their boat. By the time we had that under control, the tide had dropped more and finding enough water for the trailers was getting harder. I sank mine as much as I dared and drove on but only got half way up before there was the horrible grinding of the prop hitting the ramp. Christine backed the trailer even deeper and with the motor heavily tilted I got the boat onto the trailer, the prop showing signs of needing a good filing to reduce the scars. Bill managed his onto the trailer with the help and advice of a couple of locals.

We spent about an hour at the excellent wash down facility, cleaning some of the salt off, emptying Bill’s holding tanks and our Porta Loo and generally readying the boats for the road trip to Port Lincoln. There was also quite a lot of chatting to other boaties around us, something  that always seems to happen when blokes and boats get together.

By the time we had crossed the 47km and booked into the Port Lincoln Caravan Park it was around noon, so we had been pretty efficient in our work.  Coffin Bay had lived up to expectations.

Days on the water – 7

Distance covered   ~70nm / 130km

Fuel used  ~120L

Water used ~ 100L from tanks + 20L additional

Issues – Ongoing problem with fuel supply cutting off until engine reaches operating temperature of 150°F /  66°C.

Alice Springs to Melbourne and Back to Dowerin

October 18, 2018 /

Thursday 4th  to Friday 5th October – The main task over the next couple of days revolved around driving as far south as possible each to reach Mornington, Victoria. We were very keen to get down to see new baby Evie, and her parents Azba and Mike of course. We researched flying from Adelaide but by the time a hire car and accommodation was factored in, doing the big drive made sense.

Between us and Port Augusta lay Coober Pedy and Woomera, both of which we have visited before. A count of our remaining days before we must be back in Perth told us that there was a definite need to put in some long hauls so there would be limited time for sight seeing beyond what was available from the drive. A long haul drive is often an experience in itself. In times past we were capable of 800-900km days but now we find that 650km is a good enough target if successive days of driving are involved.

As one travels south from Alice, the population of the majestic desert oaks steadily dwindles and so the country takes on a more open desert-like appearance. The roadhouses are the major attraction and any plot of land that rises more than 100 metres above its surrounds suddenly becomes a mountain. We really struggled for points of interest. To keep up a routine, we always run a 100km driver swap pattern, meaning that the driver does not get fatigued and the passenger does not get too bored.

The first night, we overnighted off the road at the Pootnoura Creek 2nd Channel. We were nestled up against the Ghan rail line and expected some night interruptions but all was quiet.

The approach to Coober Pedy is always fun. The surreal landscape dotted with what look like large anthills makes one question man’s sanity. To see the sheer industry and effort that has gone into digging little holes in search of little chunks of colourful silicate rock is almost laughable. However, a day or so in Coober Pedy and the opal fever starts to strike everyone and the insanity of the place fades. This time, we by-passed one of Australia’s great frontier towns, apart from refuelling, and pushed on.

Not far south of Coober Pedy is an area of Defence Dept land that has a restricted status. Currently, all access along the Stuart Highway is stopped between 3pm and 11pm on a daily basis up until between 1st October and 10th November. It is quite a large stretch of highway that one does not want to get held up in. It mystifies me that an area of land set aside for the defence forces to test out weapons actually lies across a major national highway but there it is. National security and all that. We have to do our bit eh chaps?

Woomera was also bypassed and we crossed the large flat and treeless area  south of Pimba until the beautiful Flinders ranges come into view near Port Augusta. The large expanse of the salt lake chain provides some spectacular views along the way. Lake Hart is relatively small but accessible from the highway. The Island Lagoon is much bigger and a few good lookouts present along the road. The size and grandeur of these flat expanses of glistening white makes me wonder just what a spectacle the vastness of Lake Torrens or Ayres Lake must be. We haven’t got out there yet but it is on the big list.

From Top Left – The Ghan railway, A night camp, The Murray River at Mannum, Approaching the Grampians, Horsham CBD.

We made Port Augusta in good time and pushed through to check out a camp site in the Horrocks Pass, 30kms south. The worth of the camp proved to be grossly exaggerated in Wikicamps and we decided to drive to the top of Horrocks Pass and stay at a caravan park in Wilmington, a cute little village just over the Flinders Range. An older type guy greeted us, cricket bat in hand, threatening to smash his computer to pieces out of frustration at trying to pay some bills. However, he managed to book us in with a laugh and a smile and we settled down for a pleasant night in bush surroundings. This is a really charming little place and with all the wonderful walking trails and gorges to explore in the Flinders it would make a wonderful cheap base to stay for a few days.

Saturday 6th October – On a previous trip, we had been through Wilmington on a Sunday morning, hoping (but failing) to find a nice little cafe serving breakfast. We can now attest that Wilmington is no livelier on a Saturday morning.

The road south took us through the beautiful Clare Valley. A couple of standout looking little towns grabbed our attention, including Melrose, with a gorgeous little pub, a lovely stream and numerous walk trails into the Mt Remarkable National Park. Could be worth investigating at a later date. There were some markets on in Clare that prompted us to stop and partake in a sausage sizzle, although Christine’s Eagles shirt nearly got her barred.  Fortunately, the guys running the Lions stall hated Collingwood more than the Eagles so we still got served. Christine managed to get her eyebrows done (threading) in the markets (apparently a priority after a couple of weeks in the desert) and I picked up some homemade fig jam (always a priority).

At Tarlee, we left the A32 and cut across to Kapunda and on into the Barossa Valley. At this time of year, the valley is covered in green. As we headed south, the crops gradually improved, from poor pathetic things up around Wilmington that already had been given over to the sheep, to lush fields of wheat, barley and canola. The vines are just starting to sprout their spring coats and the many deciduous fruit trees around the area still bear the flush of flowering. It was a very pretty drive.

We finally settled in for the night on the Murray at Mannum. We have never been to Mannum before and were very taken with both its setting and its streetscape. There is no bridge nearby so a ferry service carries cars across the river. The town, unlike many Murray towns, is built down near the river rather than higher up to escape flooding. Although this has meant some problems for the port in past years, it makes for a very picturesque setting. The caravan park is right on the river itself and there were a good number of water skiers and families fishing. We only saw carp caught.

Sunday 7th October – We packed up the camper and walked down the road to the Mannum Sunday markets. There was the usual craft and potpourri type stuff and an excellent range and variety of street foods, although it was still a bit early for us to indulge. A gadget man sold us a wonderful 12V double fan for the camper. It would have been useful back in the hot weather.

From Mannum, we drove through Murray Bridge, Tailem Bend and picked up the Dukes Highway to go east all the way to Horsham in the Victorian Wimmera District. The roads by now are either full dual carriageway or single lanes with passing lanes every 5 kms so driving is easy. The country continued to be green, with hay cutting starting into the Mallee Region. Some crops in the Wimmera had obviously got off to a poor start and it was by no means a good season. However, the dams appear full and the stock fat so the Victorians have not suffered like the NSW and Qld farmers.

The caravan park in Horsham is a small council affair on the banks of the Wimmera River, an interesting river that flows out of the Grampians and into a series of swamps and lakes. It is said to hold good stocks of fish and I found myself wishing I had packed a rod. Horsham itself is a decent sized city with around 17,000 people and all amenities, yet still easy enough to move around in. We went for a walk into the CBD to find a supermarket and found all the shopping that one would expect anywhere.

Monday 8th October – After a leisurely rise and a spot of shopping, we drove on to the Grampians and Halls Gap. The map indicated two ways to Halls Gap, the short way along C222 and a longer way on C216 through Stawell. Naturally, we chose the short way. As the road began to enter the National Park, a sign indicated that the road was unsuitable for caravans beyond Zumsteins (wherever that was). Mmm? We pressed on and the road looked fine. Zumsteins proved to be a quaint little picnic area so we stopped to read the information boards. No mention of caravans or road conditions. Four people sat having a picnic and we enquired with them about the road. “Oh it’s fine,” was the answer. “You will be OK.”

The road indeed became unsuitable for caravans and only just barely suitable for our camper. It was a full mountain climb with numerous hairpin bends and totally blind corners. There was quite a lot of traffic coming towards us, mostly appearing suddenly around corners taking up considerably more than their fair share of road. Christine refrained from screaming and I crushed the life out of the steering wheel while we put up with 24kms of torture. Numerous signs pointing to lookouts and walk trails flashed by but we ignored everything until we finally reached the sanctuary of Halls Gap.

It is very easy to fall in love with Halls Gap. A delightful village with lots of little eateries is strung along the main street and bisected by Stony Creek. The caravan park is strung out opposite, bringing campers right into the town. All around are the rampart walls of the mountains, with beautiful tall eucalypts, lush ferns and lots of wildflowers. There were a good number of campers, mostly South Australian, with Victorian school holidays coming to an end.

We set up camp, had lunch, explored the village then set off back onto the road that had tortured us to investigate some of the lookouts and waterfalls. Without a camper trailing behind, it is a lot less nerve racking but care is still needed on the blind bends, a safety point lost on some people. There must be some nasty accidents.

We visited the beautiful Silverband Falls, well named because they present as a narrow long fall of silver set in a fern filled gully. Reed Lookout is a forestry lookout giving superb views over the ranges to the farm lands beyond. A 1km walk down a good track takes you to The Balconies, where a number of rock ledges hang precariously over a sheer drop to the forest far below. The scenery is absolutely breath-taking. The Boroka Lookout offered equally magnificent views. An afternoon’s driving and walking does not even start to scratch the surface of all that there is to offer in the Grampians. It is a definite “must return”.

The Grampians

Tuesday 9th October – We travelled SE through Stawell, Ararat and on past Ballarat. The freeway took us all the way to Melbourne and over the West Gate Bridge. Somehow, we narrowly averted the disaster of the last time we entered Melbourne this way and managed to change lanes at the last minute to avoid exiting prematurely in South Melbourne. Then it was into the dreaded tunnel, which seems to run for ever and is filled with huge car eating monsters. Enormous growling trucks occupy every lane and travel at a terrifying speed. The electronic signs say “AVOID LAND CHANGES” but this obviously does not apply to trucks, which fill every available gap as soon as one opens up. I should have worn the same underpants that I wore in the Grampians so I didn’t  have to ruin two sets.

The freeway took us most of the way south to Mornington and the Nepean Hwy did the rest and we were soon set up in the Mornington Caravan Park. We had come this far to drop in on Azba and Mike to meet little Evie, now all of 4 months old. They live in Mt Eliza, only about 6kms from where we camped so we headed over in the evening. Apparently, all babies are cute but Evie is definitely right up there on the cuteness scale. She has Azba’s eyes so that would do it. She had some shots the previous day so the grumps had set in a little but she still seemed to acknowledge us. Pickle, the tiny little miniature dachshund with attitude, demanded far more attention than little Evie. It was scratch behind the ears, give me a tummy rub or I’ll bark you off the planet. Mike seems to have her measure though with a kibble controlled food approach. Christine had knitted Pickle a wonderful multi-coloured coat, a thing she does as “passenger therapy” on long drives. Pickle seemed to like it for a while then showed signs of wanting to eat it. It will probably be put away until next winter.

Wednesday 10 October – The first order of the day was to get the car in for a much needed service. As always seems to happen, they found more that was needed so it took most of the day to give it a birthday. We hung around camp and shivered. The maximum for the day was forecast at 17 but I doubt that it got much above 14 with a fresh breeze to add to the wind chill. Christine used the camp kitchen to cook up some meals and lunch meats, while I read and did a few little repairs on the camper. We did take a 2km walk down to the local Aldi but the wind froze us solid.

Once the car was retrieved, we went over to Az and Mike’s before turning in.

Thursday 11 October – We had a much needed sleep in today. In the late morning we drove into Mornington itself to walk the streets. The temperature was a definite improvement on the previous few days and there were quite a few people out and about. Mornington is a pretty little place with a main street full of great cafes, restaurants and a couple of pubs. It must really hum during summer holiday times. We liked the name of a spot called “Albert’s Burgers and Beer”. We shared a burger called “The Albert”. The patty was hand pressed using Angus beef and there was a delicious cheese, amazing pickles and a spicy sauce. We shared one in order to reduce the damage but I hated having to share such a wonderful creation. We washed it down with a local Mornington Pale Ale. Why not?

Around Mornington and gorgeous little Evie

In the evening, we were back with Az, Mike and Evie to say our farewells. It is wonderful to see them both happy. They are tired, what new parents aren’t.  Azba is a wonderful mother and Mike makes a great dad. Thanks guys for sharing a little part of your life with us.

Friday 12 October – We packed up ready for the long trip home, a distance of 3365km (to Dowerin). To save a few kilometres and avoid a trip back through the dreaded tunnel and Westgate Bridge, we booked a car ferry ticket on the Sorrento to Queenscliff ferry. At around $120 for the car and camper, it was not a saving but it was a very pleasant way to go. The drive along the coast was great, seeing all the beautiful little coves and headlands that dot the Mornington Peninsula. We had booked a noon ferry but the ticket was good for an earlier departure so the fact that we were ahead of schedule did not matter.

Once aboard, we could leave the car and wander around the boat, a three deck affair with food, coffee and bar available. The scenery is worth watching as the ferry follows the coast past Portsea and across the entrance to Port Phillip and on into Queenscliff. The trip takes around 40 minutes and is well worth the little bit of extra money for the experience and the lack of panic.

Queenscliff is a gorgeous little town, full of quaint wooden buildings and some impressive stone structures. It boasts an extensive rail museum and a working steam train. After a short drive around to take in the sights, we drove north to Geelong, skirting the worst of the city and picked up the highway to Ballarat.

Somehow, we had to go through the centre of Ballarat (I’m sure that could have been avoided) but we were at least quite familiar with the city from our last trip and soon joined the A300 freeway to take us westwards in comfort. The towns we had been through only a few days before flashed past, Ararat, Stawell, Horsham etc and by the time we stopped for the night in Kaniva on the Western Hwy we were only 20kms or so shy of the SA border.

Saturday 13th October – Another day of driving, swapping every 100kms. We followed the Western Hwy into SA where it becomes the Dukes Hwy and traverses wheat/sheep farming lands and towns such as Keith and Coonalpyn and on to the Murray River town of Tailem Bend. We had heard a radio program that talked about an art program that involves the painting of the many wheat silos that dot the landscape in SA. It was with great delight that we took in some of the magnificent artistic efforts. Indeed, some people make a tour out of following the silo art trails. The ones we saw were amazing examples.

Once at Murray Bridge, the choice is to stick to the expressway to Adelaide and put up with getting through the city, or head north through the Barossa and put up with lesser roads and frequent small towns. We chose the expressway, whizzing through the Adelaide Hills, taking the dizzy descent down the seemingly endless pass to the coastal plain then pushing through the Saturday shopping traffic to find the A1. We spent most of the trip sitting behind a large semi trailer, figuring it would guide us through the traffic, which it did until eventually peeling off and heading on the road to Gawler.

The A1 heading north of Adelaide must be one of the ugliest approaches to a major city anywhere. It traverses some low saltbush scrub country and seems to be covered in a ramshackle arrangement of light industry and poor farmlands that are littered with decaying machinery. It is really not a good look at all until after Port Wakefield.

We drove hard, through Port Pirie and Port Augusta and on to Kimba. Once heading west from Port Augusta, we really felt as if we were going home. Kimba is a wheat/sheep town at the top of the Eyre Peninsula. It has one of the best pieces of silo art we came across, a “Big Galah” and a free caravan park. What? Free? Yes, they make their recreation facilities available to caravanners. It pays off. We have used it before and the town benefits from the extra customers that results. There were more caravans in Kimba than many of the actual caravan parks we had used on the way over. Way to go Kimba!

Sunday 14th October – Oh no! Not the Nullabor! Some love it, I hate it. A couple of days driving staring at low scrub does not make for a magic experience but then, each to their own. We had a glorious display of lightning with thunder to accompany during the night and a steady amount of rain, which fortunately abated in the morning, allowing us to pack up without drama.

After Kimba, there is still quite a bit of farming land and woodland through to Ceduna before the real open country is encountered.

Most of the drive west was wet, if not overly so. It seemed as if there were some really terrible looking storms around us but they never actually hit us too badly. We passed through Nullabor and on to Eucla. The aim was to get through the quarantine process (always a pain) then stop for the night. However, 25kms short of the border, we were hit by torrential rain, so bad that driving on was not really an option, and we joined 4 or 5 other rigs in a large gravel pit, close to the cliff edge. It took a few goes to actually set up camp and at one point we were setting up in a large shallow lake. The rain was savage!

Monday 15th October – The rain stopped during the night but the morning was still overcast we the occasional small shower. We got through the quarantine with the usual sense of frustration. I really don’t know why they bother with all the advertising of how to prepare because it does no good. You rock up with veges sorted according to the web site rules, the pot of honey ready to hand over and all uncertain things ready to declare. “That’s OK, that’s good, etc etc. Now we need to look in the camper and all through the car.” One might as well just leave everything as is and let them have all the fun of discovery.

After Eucla, the weather steadily improved, although a steady headwind did nasty things to our fuel economy. The boredom of the open treeless plain slowly gave way to woodlands and we pushed on through Madura, Cocklebiddy and finally, Balladonia, the last stop before the “civilization” of Norseman. We reached Norseman with a couple of daylight driving hours left but I felt drained and a roadside stop about 15kms north was enough for us. It was hard to find a spot that wasn’t a mud patch, after all the recent rain and we ended up quite close to the road. The thundering road trains really didn’t bother us because we just crashed out.

Tuesday 16th October – The final leg, at least to Dowerin. The rain had almost completely gone, with just the odd few spots as we drove north to Coolgardie. Then it was heading west again back towards home, watching the woodlands give way to low mallee scrub then, near Southern Cross, the familiar sight of wheatfields. The crops in Western Australia are so much better than those in the eastern states this year and even those improved dramatically from Merredin through to Dowerin. We had lunch in Merredin and got home in the early afternoon, giving us enough time to conquer the main part of the unpacking and cleaning. The rains over the last month had sported a fresh crop of weeds to deal with in the back yard. On entering the house though, there was a very noticeable smell of gas and Christine discovered that the oven was on a very low setting. No flame was present, it had probably gone out and the dregs of the bottle seeped out. We opened everything up and aired out the house, thankful that we did indeed have a house left. Perhaps an updated oven is in order or maybe we even turn the gas off when we leave would be smarter.

All in all it was a whirlwind trip, with some 8,500kms covered in a month. We keep saying we will slow down and take time to smell the daisies but somehow…….

The Red Centre – October 2018

October 7, 2018 /

Tuesday 25 September – We came off the Great Central Road a little beaten and happy to see a touch of civilization and paved roads. We passed the Olgas and Uluru before reaching the campgrounds at Yalara. We already knew that a regular camp site was out of the question but a large overflow area was in operation and we were in a position to be self sufficient. The line up was extensive, mostly Vic and WA cars, their school holidays matching. Finally, we headed to the overflow, a large open space with caravans and tents dotted haphazardly all over the place. Signs warned us that we needed our own toilet facilities because it was too far to walk to the camp ablutions. Neither was any water or rubbish facilities provided. Not bad for $30 a night!

Yulara has all the basic essentials with an excellent IGA, fuel at $2.11/L and limited take-away alcohol at a minimum $30 a bottle of wine. It is a place that gives the plastic card a good workout.

Wednesday 26 September – The morning saw us head to Uluru to take in the rock (after paying $25 a head to enter the National Park). The bikes were unloaded from the roof and we set off for a circumnavigation while John and Julie visited the cultural centre. It is a 12km ride around and the temperature was in the low 30s so riding rather than walking was the way to go. Only one boggy section forced us to walk and we completed the ride in around 1.5 hours, with stops to read the notes along the way. Uluru is truly a beautiful place. The variety of surface features and weathered features is amazing and the ever changing faces, shadows and colours make it seem like a living entity. When our ride was complete, John and Julie set off while we made lunch and sat opposite the point that is used as a climbing face to watch the continual straggle of people moving up and down the face. They looked like a line of ants on the move.

Around Uluru

The climbing of Uluru is a controversial issue. It will be banned on 26 October 2019 (the 34th anniversary of the return of Uluru to its traditional owners). At the base of the climb is a large sign in a number of languages that clearly outlines the reasons the traditional owners do not want you to climb it. Put simply, this boils down to:

  • The climbing route is a sacred path of spiritual significance that is only taken by few Aboriginal men on special occasions.
  • People have been hurt and people have died when climbing Ayers Rock. The traditional owners feel responsible for these accidents.

We saw literally hundreds of people climbing up the rock but in the time we were there, not one stood in front of the sign to read it. The failure to actually engage with the issue probably upset me more than their decision to climb. There certainly seems to be an attitude of, “I’ve driven this bloody far so I’ll do what I want.”

The afternoon was spent back around Yalara settlement before heading out again with John and Julie in the late afternoon to catch the sunset colours on the rock from the viewing area. The parking area was packed with people set up with cameras, canapés, bubbly drinks and excitable children. Just as popular folklore maintains, the rock does go through quite a dramatic set of colour changes just prior to and after sunset. If anything, it seems to glow brighter just after the sun as sunk below the horizon.  Ah! The big rock at sunset. Another box ticked.

Thursday 27 September – We were bad today. The plan was to do the Olgas and John and Julie got all geared up to head out early and get in all the walks. We lagged behind and then lazed around instead of hitting the walking trails. We have been to the Olgas before and just didn’t feel like walking so we luxuriated in a good slack day. We spent a bit of time exploring the shopping centre which was surprisingly well stocked with a variety of goods.  It was pleasing to note that the majority of workers appeared to be indigenous, a far cry from other tourist centres around the outback, and that the jobs board was full of positions, both skilled and unskilled. Seeing the jobs board made me a bit less critical of the campground conditions. It could be that they would provide more services if they could get the staff.

By late afternoon, we decided we needed to pay some homage to the Olgas and drove out to the sand dune viewing area to take in a few perspectives of the range before heading back to camp. John and Julie had returned by this stage looking quite shattered after a very full day in the heat. They had managed to rack up every walk but were paying for it. Plans to go out after 8pm to see the moon rise over Uluru were abandoned.

Views of the Olgas (Kata Tjuta)

Friday 29 September – Today we broke camp, fuelled up and drove east then north to Kings Canyon. Along the way, we refuelled at the delightful little roadside stop of Curtin Springs that offered free camping, a far cry from the horrors of Yalara campground.  Before turning off the Lasseter Highway onto the Luritja Road we took in the beautiful sight of Mt Conner, a huge flat topped plateau to the west of Uluru. The road swings north before turning north-west and following the George Gill Range. The vistas are constantly changing and a far cry from the vast plains that we had travelled across in previous days. We stopped at Kings Creek Resort, an inviting little spot just outside the Watarrka National Park and within an easy drive of Kings Canyon.

Kings Canyon Resort was also fully booked but had promised us an overflow area and assured access to a TV for the AFL Grand Final. We managed to score a good spot with some shade and very close to some ablutions. The resort is very well appointed, although looking a little tired. From our campsite, we had a magnificent view of the canyon itself and surrounding hills.  Nearby, a track led to a ring of stones and logs that marked a paved “Sunset Viewing Area”, a great little touch. The only trouble was that instead of providing a facility that could bring guests together in the evening it was set up as licensed premises which meant that rocking up with a couple of cans and a chardy was out of the question. It was also out of the question to pay $8.50 for a can of Carlton Mid. We stayed in our camp and saved up for the Grand Final.

Saturday 30th September – This is the day that will be forever revered as the great Eagles AFL win of 2018. We geared our day around the great event and got up at 6am, so we could get to the Canyon Rim walk early, before the heat set in, and allow enough time to bag a good seat in the pub.

The wind was up anyway, but the canyon took it and turned a fresh breeze into a howling gale. The wind tunnel effect pushed gusts up to around 80km/hr, making the first 500 step climb up to the rim of the canyon quite scary. Christine voiced a desire to turn back but we went back our teenage years and held hands for most of the walk to get her around the course. The 6km walk was expected to take 3-4 hours but we did it in 2 and a bit, and Christine’s adrenalin levels never dropped a bit. Aside from the fear of being blown over the edge by the sudden blasts of wind, the walk was outstanding, with incredible views of the plains beyond. Once up on top of the range, a broad expanse of domed formations, like a mini Bungle Bungles, presents. The drop over the edge is mostly sheer, with amazingly flat and straight rock falls of the past leaving perfectly faced canyon walls. The variation in land forms and rock structures makes it like you are looking at more than one canyon, the view changing at every turn.  No previous canyon or gorge walk compares, and we have done plenty. Kings Canyon Rules!

Kings Canyon

We relaxed back in camp while John and Julie secured a prime table in the pub in readiness for the footy. We joined them with an hour to bounce down. By this time, the small room with two large screen TVs was occupied by a dozen or so Eagles supporters and another dozen of neutrals while out the back a much larger space was filling with Collingwood fans. When Collingwood kicked the first goal, the noise from out back was horrendous and after four more it was getting quite upsetting. I started to feel the way the Melbourne fans felt in the Preliminary Final. However, by the time the final few minutes came around and Dom Sheed kicked his magic goal, the noise in front drowned out the moans of the Collingwood faithful. It was the stuff of dreams.

Christine and I were once again the only ones in Eagles gear and it paid off. The publican came over and asked what we wanted to drink. Julie said she would have a white wine, Christine a red, and me, thinking Julie had asked for bubbly, said I’d have bubbly too. John ordered a beer. We all got our free drinks, except I got a whole bottle of good bubbly. Thanks Eagles! A great win all round. We left in a state of euphoria.

Sunday 1 October – Today we drove the Red Centre Way from Kings Canyon to Ormiston Gorge. The bulk of the trip, some 140kms, was unsealed. The unsealed part has not seen a grader for 18 months and was in very bad condition by any definition. Long stretches were devoid of any earth, the surface down to bare rock, and even that seem to be corrugated. We drove up on the side of the embankment seeking relief from the corrugations, we tried speeding up and slowing down. Nothing worked. It was bone jarring stuff.

We came across a 100 litre water tank in good condition, complete with protective cover, lying in the middle of the road. It was 100m down the track after a creek crossing so some poor unfortunate had taken the crossing too fast and ripped it out from underneath their camper. They weren’t far ahead because there was still water on the road. I stopped and made room on the roof rack for it, prepared to return it if we found the owners. We never did so we are still carrying it around. It will come in handy.

The scenery was nothing short of spectacular, like driving through the best of the Pilbara or Kimberley. The road starts to enter the region dominated by the magnificent West MacDonald Ranges, with numerous noteworthy peaks and a great many gorges. Every so often, there was a lookout or special feature to take in but some of these were ignored because we were driven to complete the unsealed section.

Finally, the bitumen road came and we stopped to pump up the tyres and shake off the dust. A short distance down the road was Gosse Bluff, a strangely named formation that suggested a single edifice of rock. What we found was a circle of low peaks and crags with an area of flat land in its centre. The formation is actually a crater formed by a 600 metre wide comet striking the Earth some 142 million years ago (I remember it happening). Later, we got to see the crater from a high lookout 20 km away and it looked just like one of the moon formations. Quite stunning.

We had to wait at Gosse Bluff for a while because the corrugations had damaged the electrical connection to John’s camper and a re-wiring job was needed. It was a pleasant enough place to sit except for the large number of honey bees. The very dry conditions meant they were desperate for water and they soon figured out that the water tank on our roof rack had some water left in it and an easy access point through the missing filler point. The top of our car became a mass of bees, as did the whole area. Julie and I avoided them but both Christine and John got stung. We left to wait for John further down the track, taking our bee swarm with us.

At one point on the drive, there was a sign indicating a rest stop with mobile phone reception. After days of no phone, this was worth a stop. We were greeted by the sight of a parabolic dish with a cradle to rest your phone.

As we headed east towards Glen Helen Resort, the scenery just kept getting better. The road ran parallel to the southern face of the West MacDonalds, a must do drive. Glen Helen Resort however, is not so inspiring. Situated on the site of a pretty little gorge (Glen Helen Gorge), it is a ramshackle collection of dongas, corrugated iron buildings and bough shelters. The carpark was in as bad a condition as the unsealed road. What a terrible advertisement for a so-called resort. You drive in on a nice bitumen road then drop over a nasty suspension damaging edge onto bare earth and rock that hasn’t seen a grader for ages. There is no apparent system of parking nor useful signage helping people line up for fuel. John needed fuel, which he purchased after a run-in with someone trying to jump the non-existent queue and we left.

Ormiston Gorge, only a few kilometres further on, was the exact opposite of Glen Helen. The National Park here is very well set up and has wonderful facilities, all for $10 a head per night. The camp ground is small and was full, but the ranger arranged for us to use the “coaches only” area, along with a few other late arrivals, and so we had our own set of hot showers and toilets. After a hell of a day’s travel, it was a wonderful end.

Monday October 1 – We rose quite early to fit in a walk of Ormiston Gorge before packing up. We took the “Ghost Gum Walk”, only 2.4km but quite tough because it climbs a series of steps and follow narrow trails cut into the shale cliffs to a lone ghost gum perched half way up the gorge’s northern face. The views are quite stunning. Ormiston is a very deep gorge by any standards, bigger than those in Karajini and most in the Kimberley. As with Kings Canyon, Christine needed the security of my hand because the pathways were often so narrow. I pictured us both plummeting to the bottom, hand in hand to the end. Thankfully, it didn’t happen and we reached the end of the walk intact. It amazes me how the level of protectiveness varies so much from location to location. Sometimes, handrails and fences are provided to excess and actually spoil the experience while in other places, a goat track carved into a shale hill side is deemed sufficient.

Ormiston Gorge

Once packed up, we drove east towards Alice Springs, skipping a lot of off-shoot sights. The West MacDonalds are easily worth four or five days.  We did stop at the Ellery Big Hole, a pretty little gorge with a decent body of clean swimmable water. The four of us stood up to our knees in the icy water until we could no longer feel our toes. John and Christine eventually took the plunge but Julie and I felt that some of us needed to remain sane and refused a dunking. We also diverted into Simpsons Gap, a narrow gap in the mountain chain a mere 15kms or so from Alice itself. The temperature had climbed into the mid 30s but swimming was out of the question with the only water presenting as a stagnant green slime pool. We walked, we saw, we photographed, and pushed on to the Wintersun Caravan Park in Alice Springs.

The Red Centre Way – Namatjira Drive

We booked in for 3 nights while John and Julie chose to stay 2. We need some serious cleaning to rid the camper of the excess red dust. Alice will be a parting of the ways anyway, with us heading to Victoria and John and Julie aiming for the Eyre Peninsula. Who knows, we may meet up for the Nullarbor crossing.

Tuesday 2 October – Today was a day of relaxing, cleaning, reading, trying out the almost too cold swimming pool and wandering around Alice Springs. First stop was Bunnings (of course) for a few bits of necessary hardware but unfortunately,  there was no sausage sizzle running. Another great stop was ANZAC Hill, a wonderful lookout right in the middle of town. This is the perfect spot to get a full understanding of the layout of Alice, set nestled between the West and East MacDonald Ranges.

We made a few purchases in town, including a HEMA Map book. We have been relying on the HEMA Map app on an Android tablet but it is not as good as the good old paper book when it comes to planning ahead.

Around Alice Springs

Wednesday 3 October – John and Julie were up early and packed up ready to hit the road. It is around 600km south to Coober Pedy, a full day with a van behind. We farewelled them, knowing that fate would probably bring us together again before we hit home.

The first job was to take the car down to Windscreen O’Brien to have the back window replaced.  The guy down there was fantastic and very patient while Christine did a lot of phone work to ensure the RACWA and the National Windscreens O’Brien chain got their act sorted. She was a champ and everything got sorted in the best possible timeframe. It is good to be able to see through the back window again.

We did some more cleaning before the heat settled in. The days are hitting 35 degrees now and we are dependent on a good breeze for relief. We stocked up on alcohol too. Alice Springs has long had heavy restrictions on alcohol purchases but today a new initiative by the NT Government came into force. They have set a minimum price of $1.30 per standard drink. This means that the cheapest price that can be charged for a bottle of wine (approx 8 standard drinks) is $10.40, putting an end to all the very cheap wine flooding the market. Beer is largely unaffected because it already sells for more than the minimum. A 4L cask white wine would cost $50.70. It will be interesting to see how it goes. Other states are watching with interest and it may well be adopted elsewhere, although the states with wine industries would come under a lot of pressure from growers needing to move their lower quality wines.

Tomorrow we hit the road south and will find the lower temperatures welcome after the last few days. Of our time here, Kings Canyon was the big standout for me, a must visit place.

Great Central Road – September 2018

October 3, 2018 /

Thursday 20 September –We were packed and ready with the car and camper trailer loaded by the time John and Julie swung through Dowerin to start our big trip across the Great Central Road. We were on the road by 10:30 and lunched in Merredin before pushing on towards Coolgardie. We made a wonderful first night camp at Lake Douglas, a pretty little reservoir off the road between Coolgardie and Kalgoorlie. A roaring fire held off the cool of the evening and Christine’s slow cooked lamb done in the thermal cooker satisfied the bellies, along with a few beers and wines of course.

Friday 21 September – Kalgoorlie was meant to be by-passed but in the end we did go in to find a Super Cheap Auto store so John could buy a UHF radio. He had bought a hand-held but it was playing up so a new dash unit was in order. From there it was on to Menzies. For us, it was the first time north of Broad Arrow. The woodlands north of Kalgoorlie are some of the most beautiful anywhere, with gimlets and salmon gums creating a stunning area to drive through. The woodlands form part of the World’s largest surviving Mediterranean climate woodland.

Menzies was quiet, tiny and impeccably clean. The town was started in 1895 but a mere 10 years later, most miners had left. A beautiful stone town hall had been built in 1896 and a clock ordered  in 1905 but the ship carrying it from England sank and the building remained clockless until 2000. Today, Menzies seems to be little more than a rest stop for the miners working around the district. A lot of people come to see the sculptures on nearby Lake Ballard (we didn’t go this time) or to have a coffee and cake at the cafe (which we did do this time).

From Menzies we headed out to a stop at Niagara Dam, built in 1896-7 for the railway as it pushed north to Leonora. It had a bit of water in it and made for a picturesque camping spot. We marveled at the history of the construction. The need for a water supply was identified in the WA Parliament with working starting 6 months later and the dam completed a further 9 months on. That’s a bit faster than the wheels of government turn these days. Another classic sight was the number plate collection adorning the roadhouse. They came from every corner of the planet and must have taken years to collect. Now, the roadhouse is unattended and the building locked behind a secure fence.

Next stop was the ghost town of Kookynie, served by a single pub that has survived the years. The pub was once one of four, all on a corner of the same crossroads. We had a cooling beer and inspected all the historical mementos decorating the walls. A few other groups of travellers had the same idea so there was a merry atmosphere. Willy, the local horse, obviously wanted to join in the fun and stood patiently at the front door waiting to be let in. He would peer through the windows on occasions. Apparently the proprietor would make up a meal of carrots for him and it was about time for a snack.  We headed out to the cars to make our own lunch but Willy decided to join us and things got difficult, until he finally heard his own carrots being prepared and trotted off to the rear of the pub.

From Kookynie, 140kms of good dirt road took us to Malcolm, a rail shunting area about 30kms out of Leonora. Here another railway dam had been built, in packed earth this time rather than the concrete of Niagara. There was a good body of water present and lots of water birds. We set up camp right on the earth wall and relaxed in front of a very restful watery landscape. A flock of four pelican made a beautiful landing in front of us and a few darts fished for some unknown species of fish. Another camper had a go with some yabby nets but apparently the yabbies of yesteryear had all been eaten when carp and perch were somehow introduced.

Chicken Frajitas (John and Julie) maintained the standard of cuisine we had set for ourselves.

From Top Left – Menizes Town Hall, Menzies Pub, John and Julie’s Rig, Our rig in Leonora, Number plates Menzies Roadhouse

Niagara Dam, Malcolm Dam, Niagara Dam, Willy the horse at Kookynie Pub, Old Kookynie, Willy makes friends with John

Saturday 22 September – We decided to drive in to Leonora for a quick look before heading Laverton. Just as we neared the end of the gravel road out of the dam, a loud crack signaled the end of our back window in the car. A stone coming off the camper had shattered it. Fortunately, the window was fitted with a special UV film which held everything together and it really looked as though it would hold up for the trip across the Great Central Road. In Leonora, we bought some heavy duty duct tape and strengthened the bond on the outside. In hindsight, we should have covered the window with cardboard, as many others do. This is our second shattered rear window so we seem to be slow on the uptake.

Leonora is currently going through one of its periods of decline. The bustle of 2000 people a decade or so ago has dwindled to around 500 and the main street is full of boarded up shops. As with Menzies, everything is very neat and clean (apart from a layer of red dust). No doubt some new mining fad will see the people return.

We reached Laverton before lunch and set up camp in the caravan park to get ready for the Eagles- Melbourne Preliminary Final. The local pub, called the Desert Inn, had a great sports bar with big screen TV and we had front spot. I expected a larger crowd but there were only a few in the end to see the Eagles demolish the Ds. There was another group out the back in the beer garden that got noisier as the game progressed and a big guy rolled into the Sports Bar and let rip with a very loud “Go the Eagles!” He then proceeded to tell everyone that he could shout as much as he liked because he owned the pub. Julie was very quick off the marked and replied, “Good, you can shout us a drink then.” So we all got a round of drinks on the house. No one else seemed so lucky. The free round was probably the tipping point and we all staggered home mindful that public drunkenness in Laverton is probably not tolerated.

After the squid rings and wedges consumed during the footy we settled for a few nibbles for dinner.

Sunday 23 September – With everything packed tight, fuel containers full and tyre pressures down, we set forth on the start of the Great Central Road. Some people call this the “Gunbarrel” but that actually refers to another abandoned track further north. A few 4WD die hards use it but travelling on it is generally discouraged. The Great Central Road traverses the mostly aboriginal lands between Laverton and Uluru, a distance of 1,126km, largely unsealed but formed to a reasonable standard. The road passes through a number of Aboriginal communities where fuel and basic supplies can be bought. Two permits must be obtained and carried to traverse Aboriginal Lands, one for the WA part and one for the NT section. Both were obtained on-line and were free.

The road was in excellent condition,n at first with few signs of the promised heavy corrugations and bulldust sections. We kept the speed right down anyway to avoid damage to the rigs and stopped at regular intervals to check for things coming adrift. There was little to see, just endless plains of savannah land, mulga scrub and a scattering of trees. Even wildlife was scarce, with a few camel herds providing amusement. They do not appear the least bit afraid of humans and at one stage we caught up with John and Julie to find them stopped and completely surrounded by curious camels.

The most common sight was dead cars, mostly sedans with the odd 4WD thrown in. I was sorry that I didn’t start to count them out of Laverton because there were literally hundreds. All were burnt out and many lay upside down. A decent truck with a portable crusher and a crane could make good money out here.

We stopped at a little roadhouse called Tjukayiria to pay $2.26 a litre for fuel. The long bearded fellow there told us to be mindful of the fact that Warakurna (Giles) was closing at noon the next day for the Queen’s Birthday holiday and that they operated on NT time, making them close at 10:30am WA time. A few calculations told us that there was no way we would make it in time so we resolved to camp early, about 70kms out of Warburton and to make sure we could get between there and Docker River the next day. We found a secluded camp off the road and lit a roaring fire. The nights have been surprisingly mild. We were kitted out for some real cold stuff but some nights we managed to sit out in shorts and T-shirt.

Christine’s excellent spaghetti bolognaise capped off a great day.

From Top Left – Camels, Victory for the Eagles at Laverton Pub, A bush camp, Gill Pinnacle, Unveiling the camp oven.

Monday 24 September – After the usual pack up and breakfast, it was on towards Warburton. Not far out we spied what we thought was two bustards (bush turkeys), standing in the  middle of the road. As we drew closer, I realised that rather than bustards with short legs, they were in fact black swans. They stared at our approach before taking to the sky. A short way on we crossed the Warburton River, a mere puddle, which explained why the swans preferred to stand on the road.

Warburton was a bit of an eye-opener. A heavily fortified compound served as a camp ground.  Vehicles with smashed windscreens and lots of broken bits were in abundance. One battered 4WD with a full length roof rack had a huge red kangaroo on top. Whether it died from gunshot wounds, a spear or a semi trailer is not known but it was surely destined for the camp fire.

After Warbuton, the road deteriorated, with some 4 to 5km stretches of real bone shaking corrugations. The land was still pretty much flat and uninteresting for much of the way and the wildlife remained scarce.

We passed through Warakurna which, as predicted, was closed for the holiday and pushed on towards Docker River. After Warakurna, a few interesting landforms started to appear and a range of mountains in the distance gave us a focus. We made camp at the “Behind the Range” campsite, complete with amazing views of Gill Pinnacle and the surrounding ranges, brilliantly lit up as the sun set. A good bush fire was lit and Christine prepared a wonderful meal of Lamb Boulangere (chops, onion, leek, cabbage and potato) in the camp oven. It was another top meal. We have not let isolation beat out culinary needs.

Tuesday 25 September – The last leg of the GCR was ahead of us. The WA/NT border was only 20kms or so further on from the night camp. From reports down the road, we expected the road to deteriorate greatly on the NT side but were pleasantly surprised to find some roadworks on the go and a good stretch of freshly graded surface all the way into the Aboriginal Community of Docker River. John needed fuel but I calculated I could avoid the $2.45/L and make it to Yalara. We had to hang around and wait for the store to open at 10am but were soon on our way east following beside the Petermann Ranges.

We took a brief stop to look at Lasseter’s Cave, where Lasseter spent some four weeks or so after his camels bolted. He was helped by Aboriginals but died while attempting to walk the 140km to the Olgas.

As we head east, the groves of Desert Oaks become more prominent. The Desert Oak is a member of the casaurina family and not a true oak. They are a very majestic tree and provide a lot of much needed shade in a very arid environment.

The road did start to break up a bit and the corrugations deepen but overall, the surface was better than expected. The GCR emerges at the Olgas (Kata Tjuta) and the long awaited bitumen commences around the time the famed formation comes in view. From far to the west, the site of the Olgas is really amazing, probably the best aspect of all, and one that we had not seen when here previously. Still, it was with a huge sense of relief that we left the dust and corrugations behind and wound around the Olgas, past Uluru and on to the Yalara campground.

From Top Left – Lasseter’s Cave, Camp at Gill Pinnacle, Desert Oaks, Lasseter’s Cave, The Olgas

The GCR is one of those trips that just begs to be ticked off but in truth it does not have a lot going for it other than saving a lot of kilometres. It is mostly a long stretch of poor quality road with few attractions and a high chance of damage to vehicles. As a 4WD adventure it is not really very challenging other than bolting on all the bits that fall off the vehicles. Would we do it again? Probably not but then it has been ticked off the list.

Melbourne–Australian Open Tennis

January 20, 2017 /

13-20 January 2017

We headed off to Melbourne once again for a week of sport, sight seeing and fine dining. This time, we had the company of of Ron and Jo, who were making their first trip to the AO despite being regular visitors to Melbourne itself.

We scored a really wonderful Air BnB apartment in East Melbourne right on Victoria Parade and less than a kilometre from the MCG, making the walk to the cricket and tennis a snap. The apartment was on the ground floor which meant we had a neat little courtyard and no awful wait time for the lifts. The block used to be the Victoria Brewery but only the old shell remained, the rest being rebuilt as units collectively called the Tribeca Apartments. An IGA, liquor store and several little eateries and takeaways filled out the ground floor so supplies were always on hand. More great eateries were across the other side of Victoria Parade and not far down the road in adjoining Richmond. With frequent trams at the doorstep, the location was ideal.

The apartment itself was spacious and very well appointed, with two bedrooms and two bathrooms. The kitchen was fully equipped and there were good stocks of ingredients, giving us the option of eating in or dining out. The only down side was the very soft mattress. With the current state of my back, I keep finding myself paying for a bed and sleeping on the floor. The cushions from the sofa made a very firm and comfortable bed on the floor of our room. I had to do the same last year in another Air BnB in Melbourne.

We managed to find a couple of gems in the local dining scene, including the Aviary, a small pub about a kilometre down Victoria Parade in Richmond. It served a great range of amazing meals at very affordable prices. Ron and Jo also took us into China Town for some belly filling yum char in Little Bourke Street. The waist line didn’t take too much of a battering though because we made sure we did lots of walking.

On the Sunday night before the tennis got underway, Christine, Ron and I headed down to the MCG for a One Day International cricket match against Pakistan. At a little under 40,000, it was the smallest crowd we have experienced there but the mob just below us more than made up for it. We had seats in the front row of the first tier and beneath us was the main Pakistan supporter area. It was a riot of colour, chanting and flags, the spectacle enhanced by the fact that they were on top of Australia throughout. It was very entertaining and it was sporting of us Aussies to let them have an occasional win.

The tennis was the best we have attended, in part due to the weather which was mostly mild. We stuck to the outside courts in the main, with Show Court 2 providing a lot of Aussie action and some top class matches. Ron and Jo managed to score a couple of free tickets into Rod Laver Arena when Roger Federer was playing so they were happy. It was three days of great tennis and a fantastic atmosphere. The venue seems to get bigger and better every year and it is good to see that the facilities for the spectators is constantly being upgraded. Security is tight on entry but there are non of the ridiculous bans on bringing in your own food that seems so common in Perth. Go Melbourne, the sporting capital of Australia. When one thinks that $114 buys three days of top World class tennis it makes some of the other event costs seem ridiculous.

On the Tuesday, we caught up with our “daughter” Azba after work and travelled with her on the train down to Mornington. She and Mike have a beautiful place there, shared with Pickle, the real owner. After only a few minutes with Pickle, I was sold on Miniature Dachshunds as a breed.  She is possibly a little indulged but rightly so.


Azba took us out to breakfast in Mornington Village, complete with a walk along the pier. It is a relaxed spot and the food at a little vegetarian cafe was sensational. We visited the Mornington Peninsula years ago and always said it was worth a re-visit but now we have marked it down for a serious exploration some time. (We have a few places on that list and it keeps getting longer).

Our trip to Melbourne lived up to all expectations once again, enhanced this year because we had the company of Ron and Jo. The morning we left was the day that the horror occurred in Bourke St, with so many people being injured or killed by a rogue driver. Ron and Jo were only a few streets away at the time whereas we had caught an earlier flight. A sad sign of the times I’m afraid.

Melbourne – ODI Cricket & AO Tennis

January 23, 2015 /

January 15-22 2015

We flew to Melbourne for a week of tennis and cricket. The Virgin flight across was quick, taking only a little over three hours courtesy of a good tail wind and we used the excellent Skybus service to into Melbourne itself. This system is so good that Perth needs to consider something similar rather than wasting a fortune on a rail system that we can’t afford. For $30 each, we got comfortable transport, with never any more than 10 minutes wait, to Southern Cross Station followed by a personalised shuttle service to our hotel. The same ticket gets us a return pickup from the hotel and transfer back right to the door of the departure area. Amazingly, I’ve heard people say it is expensive, yet in Perth, we pay over $60 for a one way taxi ride to the airport.

We stayed at the Nova Stargate on Franklin St, really well located. Our room overlooked the Victoria Street Markets so there were always lots of cheap eats around. The room was a small serviced apartment and had all the basics, without being overly flash or expensive. Another bonus is that the nearby tram stops in Elizabeth St are within the new free tram zone so we spent next to nothing on transport for the week.

Most days, we took the tram down to Flinders St and then walked along the Yarra Walk to either the MCG or the tennis. The streets are always full of people off to sporting events at this time of year so we blended in with our green and gold shirts and often got questions from shop keepers or tram drivers on the way home about how things had gone with the Aussies.

We took the chance to catch up with Azba and Michael, staying the night at their place near Glen Iris so we could consume more red wine than was good for us. They both had a big weekend of a bucks’ night and hens’ party so we helped prime their livers for the onslaught.  We caught a lift home with Azba from her work, located in a quirky little part of Richmond where light industrial is giving way to residential and professional. The area was a fascinating mix of derelict factories, old tumbling-down cottages and modern glass boxes. The streets were quiet, like something out of a post apocalypse movie. Azba was astounded when we said we had popped in to the local pub although she admitted that she had never been in but was speaking from its reputation.

 

The National Sports’ Museum

Housed in the MCG, the National Sports’ Museum is a wonderful place to spend a half a day. There are comprehensive exhibits featuring the Olympics, AFL and cricket, with lesser displays covering cycling, tennis, horseracing and a host of other sports. A display following the development of the MCG itself complements the whole thing.

My foot is next to one of Ian Thorpe's shoes and Christine's is next to Aaron Sandilands'

My foot is next to one of Ian Thorpe’s shoes and Christine’s is next to Aaron Sandilands’

Entrance to the cricket display

Entrance to the cricket display

 

Amazing holographic presentations from both Shane Warne and James Hird are particularly interesting. It was hard to believe that we weren’t in a small room with the champions themselves as they gave their ten minute talks. I’d love to see this aspect of the museum expanded to include others, such as Hewitt or Freeman.

Down in the AFL display, I tried my hand at kicking a ball at three targets set into a wall. I was doing quite well, scoring a few hits until Christine pointed out that it was actually a handball activity. Things went downhill after that. I need to stick to kicking.

The MCG is always a great sight

The MCG is always a great sight

We spent about two and a half hours soaking up the “Aussie, Aussie, Aussie” atmosphere before heading back to the hotel. We left a lot undone so a return visit is on the cards sometime. Well worth the effort!

 

 

 

 

 

The Cricket

We had tickets to the Australia – India One Day match, originally purchased for the Friday, the day after we flew in. The death of Phillip Hughs saw things rescheduled and our game changed to the Sunday, no big deal, but it did mean that we would be out late on the night prior to the tennis commencing.

The match itself was a ripper! Attendance was down for the MCG, with only 35,000. Of these I think there were 20,000 Indian supporters. We seemed to be surrounded by them and the old Bay 13 was a sea of blue and ornage shirts. There was much chanting and whistling. Christine actually resorted to shoving tissues in her right ear to protect against the shrill screaming of the mob next to us.

Part of the huge crowd of Indian supporters

Part of the huge crowd of Indian supporters

India was out cheaply and Australia seemed to be cruising to an easy victory, until the usual middle order collapse brought on a nail biting finish. We just got there in the end and there was much wailing and sobbing from the sub-continent.

 

 

 

 

The Tennis

IMG_2466_20150123_182021It is hard to imagine a sporting event better organised than the Australian Open Tennis Championship. We went to the first three days and the crowds averaged 40,000 a day, a figure that would put enormous pressure on most systems, especially given that the tournament runs for two weeks. The catering kept up, the transport is fast and efficient and the atmosphere has to be experienced to be believed. A lot of people just buy a general entry ticket and sit around eating, drinking and watching the giant screens, content to be surrounded by lots of sporty types. Others study the draws and court allocations to chase down the great matches on the outside courts that crop up during the first week of the tournament.

IMG_2465_20150123_182025This year, HiSense Arena was opened up to the general public, providing 9500 undercover seats with top ranked matches available. Show Courts 2 & 3 also provide top matches in comfortable conditions if you work things right and get some shade. We managed things really well and enjoyed three wonderful days of top-flight tennis. On our final day, we left Show Court 2, having made the decision to have a beer at a bar then head for home. As we headed for the beer line, a woman approached us and asked if we would like two tickets to Rod Laver Arena to watch Roger Federer. The beer was put on hold and we headed in to the inner sanctum. Unfortunately, the seats were a great view but in the sun and things got really hot after a while. We stuck it for a set and a half then gave in, the beer being more appealing. We gave the tickets to two young guys who looked like they would handle the heat better than us. They were thrilled.

Matosevic serves it up

Matosevic serves it up

It was terrific to be part of the best Australian start to an Open in over a decade, giving us no shortage of Aussie matches to go and see. The weather was so much better than the 40 degrees plus of 2014. We will be back sometime.

 

 

 

 

IMG_2463_20150123_182036

Eats

We tried to ease up on the eats a bit this year but it is hard in Melbourne because there is so much on offer at reasonable prices. Street food abounds, especially around Victoria Street Markets. We gave a lot of patronage to a Vietnamese place in Elizabeth St called The Noodle Kitchen. Surprisingly, they have two outlets in Perth, one in Kardinya and one in Thornlie. The food is quite outstanding for the price. It was easy to pick because it was full of local Asian ethnics all day when the surrounding places were empty.

The Krispy Kreme mania is still in full swing and we again saw people lining up at the airport outlet to bring boxes of the things home. It makes no sense when every block in Melbourne has at least one amazing sweet food outlet with great looking do-nuts at half the cost of Krispy Kremes. It would be interesting to see a pie graph break-up of production costs vs profit and marketing.

Christine managed a very high standard of packed picnic lunches for the tennis and we were often the envy of those around us, although we did eye off their chips with salivating mouths. We resisted and saved our lapses for the beer sampling on the way home.

 

Westwards to Home

November 12, 2014 /

Thursday 9 October to 5 November

The Big Trip Home

With the Whitsunday sailing done and dusted, it was time to think about heading home, all 5,500km of it. We had some people to see on along the way and some places to sail so we gave ourselves plenty of time. It was pretty clear that Christine’s knee is ready for some serious attention and she was not ready for more sailing so, at some point along the way, we abandoned the idea of more sailing and really picked up on the idea of going home, so things accelerated somewhat.

From Airlie Beach, we did a quick run down the 150km to Mackay in the Greyhound Bus to pick up the car and trailer and a quick run back to Airlie. With Sandpiper safely back on land, we set off south once more.

Kilcoy – Our new friends, Steve and Denise, had some upcoming commitments so we made Kilcoy our first stop and caught up. As with our previous visits, the food and wine flowed to excess and we all had a wonderful couple of days stacking on the kilos. It was also a great opportunity to give Sandpiper a serious clean and take care of a few urgent running repairs. It was nearly tears all round when we finally pulled out of Kilcoy. It has become our second home.

The Sunshine Coast – With so many good friends from PVI on the Sunshine Coast, a stay back in that part of Queensland was essential. We had a truly wonderful time, catching up with a good PVI crowd while staying in Noosa with the McKennas, then more sailing and good times staying with Glenn and Gail in Wurtulla, near Caloundra. Glenn and I managed another sail in “Shiraz”, winning as usual. Christine and Gail got into the quilting together, which means that the knitting has been put aside for some Xmas quilts. We spent some more time in a caravan park at Alex Beach, near Maroochydore, and did plenty of walking, cycling and exercising to try to negate some of the excessive living.

Cycling around the Maroochy River

Cycling around the Maroochy River

Christine needed an invasive body test after getting a bad reading on a routine bowel cancer scan. Fortunately, Gail managed to secure her a colonoscopy without the usual nine week wait so we hung around for an extra week. As we suspected, all was good but it was best to be sure before pressing on. Somehow though, during that week, I grew accustomed to the idea of going home and so we abandoned plans of more sailing and pushed on south to commence the 4570km trip ahead of us.

Ballina – No trip down the Pacific Highway could be complete without a stop at Kilcoy to catch up with Jack and Jude. These two are such good company.  We all share a love of the sea, fine food and a good wine. Jack and Jude are planning to rejoin their boat, “Banyandah” in December but are yet to decide on a sailing destination. So many tough choices. We spent a couple of nights with them and took a trip down to the Bangalow markets on the Sunday in search of some suitable hedging plants. It was a great excuse to further explore the area and an even better excuse to stop at Lennox Head for a pub meal and a beer or two. We left them to return to their peaceful life with promises of catching up should their sailing take them west to Albany and pushed on south to Taree.

After an overnight stop at the Taree show grounds, we followed the Pacific Highway down to Newcastle then turned inland and up the Golden Highway to Dubbo. This is one of the easiest passes up the Great Divide and we enjoyed the chance to get away from the heavy traffic of the A1. The drive to Dubbo was very pretty, with the vegetation gradually changing from forest to woodlands and then to more open grasslands.

Return Trip 8Dubbo – Dubbo is a significant regional centre with a population of around 40,000. The town looked reasonably prosperous with an interesting town centre. We stayed a couple of nights and spent part of one day at the Taronga Western Plains Zoo. We usually aren’t “zoo” people but this one is different enough to attract us. Instead of the usual cages and small enclosures, the animals live in large paddock sized environments and there is heavy use made of moats and electric fences to restrict movement. The grounds are very extensive, the full circuit being 6.5km in length so we used our folding bikes to do the tour. It is possible to drive but this would mean a lot of parking and Return Trip 9walking. Hiring a golf cart is another option and would be a good choice for family groups. For us, the highlight exhibits were the giraffes and the rhinos, both black and white types. The zoo tends to concentrate on breeding endangered species and has notched up many notable successes. It was a most worthwhile visit.Return Trip 7

 

 

 

 

 

Around Broken Hill – The long dry drive from Dubbo west to Broken Hill rivals the Nullabor Plain and the Barkley Tablelands for sheer boredom. Long, flat and straight roads are the rule. Emus outnumber vehicles and towns look like wearing a six shooter is compulsory. The temperature was in the very high thirties and a punishing headwind saw the vehicle temperature climb a little. Turning the air-conditioner off solved the problem but made the discomfort levels soar. The Darling River cuts across the road at Wilcannia, once the third largest river port in the country but now a forlorn collection of incredibly beautiful old stone buildings. We stopped overnight just out of Wilcannia on a station called Warrawong on the Darling which has established a very nice caravan park.

Making friends with an emu at

Making friends with an emu at Warrawong on the Darling.

The owners put on a barbecued goat (of which there is absolutely no shortage) and invited all guests to share a meal free of charge. It was an entertaining night and the goat was excellent, so much so that Christine sliced off sections to supplement our lunch meals along the way. Once past Broken Hill, the far distant Flinders Ranges became our target, crossing into South Australia and pushing west to Petersborough. The head-wind was intense but the temperature had at least eased a little so the climb into the Flinders was not too bad.

The Nullabor Crossing – Our fourth Nullabor crossing this year was the first without rain. Except for another day of fierce headwinds, the weather was quite mild and conditions comfortable, boredom being the only real enemy. We drive strict 100km rotations, to keep our minds active, the body rested and the waits between drives short. Christine at least has her quilting. I just sit or managed short naps. I have difficulty reading in a moving car. Some 40km short of the WA border, we came across a 4WD and caravan roll-over. Thankfully, no one was hurt, the driver being a retiree from Wanneroo travelling alone with his lovely miniature collie dog. He had just lost control of the rig and it ended up sliding down a short embankment and rolling. We weren’t first on the scene and others had managed to get him out safely. A police escort for an over-width convoy happened on the scene within minutes and organised help from Eucla so we elected to stay with the driver and his dog to watch for signs of stress or shock. When the police team from Eucla showed up around 40 minutes later, we pushed on, through quarantine and finally back into WA.Return Trip 4

Quarantine inspections are a process that involves more rules than logic or understanding. We had the Internet, lots of road signage, advice from traveller forums and a guide book but still we couldn’t get a handle on what is allowed and what is not. The inspectors could not handle the concept of us living in a boat, preferring to hunt through the back of the car for plants and food despite being clearly told that we lived in the boat and that there was a fridge and lots of food. Only one inspector even climbed the ladder into the boat and he wouldn’t actually enter the cabin. Perhaps they tend to suffer from sea-sickness.

Return Trip 2Walkers and Riders – It is hard to imagine just how many people are currently riding or walking around Australia, either to fulfil a personal goal or to raise money for charity. We saw a lot of cyclists crossing the Nullabor. One time, we pulled over to change drivers and then realised that there was a very skinny little Japanese fellow pulling a cart and heading straight towards us. He obviously thought we had stopped to talk to him and he beamed as he put down his cart and came over to shake our hands. He showed us his cart and the map on the side, illustrating where he had been. He was following Highway One right around. He had virtually no English and our Japanese matched that so it was a conversation filled with lots of bowing and pointing.Return Trip 3

The Last Night – We spent our final night of our big road trip parked in woodlands next to the Bodallin Memorial, a sad remembrance of the three truckies that lost their life in the tragic bushfires of 2007. After a drive of over 4000km in around a fortnight, our respect for truckies has been strengthened. There are a few impatient ones out there but in the main they do a great job of looking out for the touring public, despite the fact that there seems to be too many caravanners and backpackers on the road who don’t know how to handle their rigs. We were home in Dowerin by 11am the next day, ready to start the big unpack. The sight of the weed growth in the yards was heartbreaking, especially since I had left the place clear at the end of August during our last trip home. Some good October rains have produced a whole new weed crop. The bonus is that the fruit trees are bearing and the passion vine is loaded so all is not lost. The work begins.

We were away from January 4 to November 4 2014

  • travelled 27,500km in the car
  • travelled about 800km on the water
  • came home three times during the trip, driving from Port Lincoln once and flying from Sydney and Brisbane
  • spent $500,000 on fuel (at least it felt like it)
  • met lots of wonderful new friends that we remain in contact with
  • caught up with lots of old friends from previous travels

Wow! Must start getting ready for the next trip.

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