Day 78: An inspection of Hahndorf (18/08/12)

With the weather having settled down somewhat, we decided we would go for a drive around the Adelaide Hills to see what’s what. The natural starting point was the Mount Lofty Lookout. This turned out to be a disappointment. We had hoped to improve on our viewing of Adelaide from this point. In 2006 we had stood there looking down on a city wreathed in bushfire smoke with the sea beyond barely visible. This time the clouds (and rain) came down around the hills and Adelaide once more was only just visible.

Adelaide from Mt Lofty in 2006 wreathed in bushfire smoke.

Adelaide from Mt Lofty in 2012 in a south-westerly gale

Rather than sightsee around the gray and wet hills, we decided to revisit Hahndorf instead. Our previous visit had been in summer on a very hot day. This time we visited in winter: the trees were bare, there was a constant drizzle. Yet the place was full of life – hundreds of visitors, the restaurants and pubs were doing a roaring trade and every little specialty shop was open. We went from shop to shop to our hearts’ content, enjoying the place immensely. There was even a shop with Indian stuff – elephant’s feet and incense and the like, run by an old Sikh gentleman. I couldn’t imagine buying anything there, but lingered in the shop anyway because of the Grieg piano concerto on the sound system. Perfect!

We wanted to go and have lunch in the Hahndorf Inn where we had been with the kids. But there was such a long waiting line for tables that we went on and found an almost empty German restaurant where we had a lovely meal. I had the German sausage dish – chock-full of healthy calories and goodness, and Joke had a less calorific quiche. We both schmacked our lipps mit pleasure, it was so gut!

Courtyard of the Hahndorf Museum

Inside the Hahndorf Museum

It might be wet, but Hahndorf was still crowded.

The Hahndorf Inn

On the way back to the car we bought a pair of microwaveable slippers for Joke. Miriam has recently acquired a set of these and lo! there they were in this Hahndorf store. They are a disgusting purple colour, but they will do the job for Joke to warm her eternally cold feet!
We went home via Glenelg and the Adelaide beaches.

The beach at Glenelg

A view into Glenelg from the jetty. The clouds stayed where they were....

Day 77: An inspection of Adelaide (17/08/12)

We woke to more cold and wet. The storm had shifted to the south west and was battering us from the other side. A great soughing would be heard from the great gum trees in the park. Then a sharper sound from the small trees around the caravan and finally the caravan and awning would rock as the gust got down to ground level. We looked out at a wet world. I had put up the awning in an optimistic frame of mind last night, and had tied it down severely. It had survived the night and was still rock steady. Not so the bloke opposite’s awning which lay sprawled in the mud like a broken bird wing. Others had put their awning up for the night, probably a wise move.

After a wild and stormy night our caravan was still standing, the awning was still tight.

A visit to Adelaide was the order of the day. We decided to catch the bus, which conveniently stopped just outside the caravan park. 5 kms later we were in the middle of town and we set off on foot. Every now and then we would duck into a shop or an arcade just to get some respite from the arctic wind. Our course meandered towards the Central Markets where the sounds and sights and smells were great and where we were protected from the elements.

Coffee and card-writing at the Adelaide Central Markets.

Finally we made our way back to the bus stop and caught the bus back “home”. (It’s weird, that: after a couple of months on the road, “home” is not Launceston, but wherever the caravan happens to be).

At “home” the awning was still up, the wind had died down somewhat and the rain had generally stopped.

....but we were glad to step inside our comfortable little caravan!!!....

Using the word “weird” above: I was going to use “funny” instead, but this made me think of the many Dutch (and German and Scandinavian) tourists we have heard use the word “funny” (pronounced as in “ferny” without the “r”). Once I hear a word like that it sticks in my brain and I have to use it to pass and to unpass (to borrow another Dutch saying), until Joke gets sick of hearing it. The European usage does not have the meaning: “humorous”, occasionally the meaning “odd”, but usually a substitute for the noun “fun”. The best example I know is the Abba song (who at least pronounced it correctly): “Money money money / Must be funny / In a rich man’s world”

Day 76: From Leasingham to Adelaide (16/08/12)

It was not raining yet when we packed up at Leasingham, but things were not looking terribly good. We drove down the Main North Road in the direction of Gawler through patches of brilliant sunshine, but with very dark clouds over our shoulder. For a while it looked as if we would outrun them and they would pass harmlessly behind us. But our speed was limited due to the very hard and gusty wind from our side and the clouds, sensing our desire to escape their contents, made an encircling movement and massed up slightly ahead of us. For a while we drove in no-mans land between dry and very wet, struggling against the buffeting of the gust front. Then the road turned traitor and sided with the clouds, veering to the right and leading us straight into a deluge. We had to slow right down as it was hard to see very far ahead.

Copyright Zazzle.

A little while later we came out the other side somewhat bedraggled and drove into Gawler in serene sunshine! We stayed on the Main North Road rather than take the highway and tootled along into Adelaide and straight into another rainstorm which was waiting for us there. It’s not much fun driving in a strange city on an arterial road with a lot of traffic, trucks and buses, with the windscreen wipers not coping and the caravan bucking in the wind! But there was nobody to give us sympathy, so we drove on, depending on the lovely Serena to set us on our course if we missed a turn.

By the time we got to the Levi Caravan Park in the north-east of Adelaide the sun was shining once more. Having heard on the news that the weather was going to get even more robust, we politely declined to be put under one of their massive gum trees. We were glad we did because the weather deteriorated by the hour.

As we were about to enter civilisation again (and many Adelaidians would contend that we had already entered civilisation!), we had arranged to get our hair attended to. Joke was going to have her natural colours brought out, and I needed the usual dewhiskering. 

The new natural Joke

We were recommended to a nearby shopping centre. The weather was now not only nasty and wet but cold as well and we thought deep and long about the folly of leaving the northern half of the continent.

Be-clipped and be-cut we slunk back to the caravan with our metaphorical tails between our legs and turned the heater on and watched the storm swirl around us outside.

Day 75: From Wilmington to Leasingham (15/08/12)

At Wilmington the morning was cold and nippy, so we got ourselves sorted out and underway. We had not bothered to unhitch the caravan, which always saves time in the morning. 

Morning at the Stoney Creek Bush Camp

The wattles were blooming at Stoney Creek.

Our first stop was in the historic little town of Melrose where life seemed to centre around the cycling and walking trails in the nearby Mount Remarkable National Park. 

The pub in Melrose

Two strange houses with the cabins of trucks built into them!

Old Melrose building. Melrose is the oldest town in the district.

The main street in Melrose with yours truly taking up about 3 parking spaces!

Then we drove through a whole bunch of other little towns until we got to Clare. 

One town had a dump point, so we donated some of our precious blue water. We don't mind sharing.......

All the while we marvelled at how green the fields were and how lush everything was. 

Green fields and ruins of old farm buildings were the order of the day in the Clare Valley.

The waterholes were full, too, a far cry from the arid landscape we had left behind only a few hundred kilometres to the north.

We decided to overnight at Leasingham in a Caravan Park attached to a winery. Obviously these places are used for grape pickers in season and grape imbibers like ourselves out of season. Which suits everybody. This time we unhitched the caravan – for a purpose. There were many wineries in the region and they all required a visit. One of our objectives was to get hold of some bulk port, which we found practically next door to the caravan park in the end – but oh, the search was good! I had to remind myself that the etiquette of wine-tasting does not require you to drink to the dregs everything that is set before you. Otherwise your progress around the district would become more and more erratic. 

Thanks, Anheuser-Busch.

Just to show that I was not being irresponsible.....

Instead, you swirl the wine around in the glass, take a good sniff at it, take a sip and slosh it around in your mouth, swallow it (the spittoon is going too far for a frugal Dutchman!), cock your head sideways, nod and make a judicious remark or two. If the salesperson presses you for a sale, you glance covertly at the price list before saying you might take a bottle. But you leave the rest of the sample undrunk on the counter.

As can be imagined, this day ended with a feeling of satisfaction at having done a hard job well.

A quaint little town on our route.

And yes, we did get home safely!

Day 74: We move to a different world: Where’s Wilmington? (14/08/12)

When we woke up in Glendambo we were greeted by a new experience: there were clouds in the sky! 

Glendambo Caravan Park (The clouds were the other way :-) )

There had been a one-minute patter of rain somewhere in the night, and now the new day brought a light sprinkling of clouds with it. This was a harbinger of the changes to come. Though we were still firmly in the outback, we were getting a foretaste of a different world, one which was not ruled by that solid winter high sitting over central Australia, bringing clear skies day after day, week after week.

Our objective for today was Port Augusta or beyond – Port Pirie or somewhere nearby was our thinking as we drove off. After some time we became aware from the map that we would be skirting some large lakes, and, being aware of the recently-filled Lake Eyre, we thought we would see some lakes with water in them. We rounded a bend in the road, and there was an enormous lake to our left – Lake Hart – filled with water to the brim! What a sight after all those thousands of kilometres of parched landscape! We drove on a couple of kilometres further to come to a lookout. From this angle the water looked very white, almost like ice, and given the temperature in the morning...... No, it was not to be, Lake Hart was a salt lake and the only reason we had thought it was water was because first sight of it was directly into the sun. We went down to have a look at this phenomenon and walked around on the salt. Some hundred or so metres out there was still a soft patch where you could dig your heel in and create a puddle of brackish water, but the rest was a hard and dry crust. You needed your sunglasses there because the surface was dazzlingly white. 

Lake Hart. The cloud shadows helped to make it look as if there was water in the lake.

This is the ultimate fate of backpacker bongo vans. This one was near the shore of Lake Hart. One can only wonder what happened to the occupants.

Flower from the shore, salt from the lake.

As it was none too warm, you could almost imagine getting out your ice skates and cutting a few figure eights.

Lady of the Lake.

Car seat embedded in the salt. We wondered if it had been ejected from the burnt-out bongo van on the shore - and if the driver had still been strapped in it at the time........

Here and there the salt was mushy and you could make water (or brine) collect in the heel print.

Further on, we saw the huge salt lake Island Lagoon on the other side of the road. It was many times larger than Lake Hart, and was itself dwarfed by Lake Gairdner which was further away and not visible from the road

As we drove away we noted that the rest stop would have made a better overnight spot than Glendambo, and cheaper too. Some people showed us pictures of last night’s sunset over the lake and they were nothing short of spectacular.

Next stop was Woomera. I particularly wanted to visit Woomera because of its history as a rocket range. Joke only associated it with a detention centre. The town looks rather deserted, but the display of rockets and the museum are worthwhile. A lot of work was done here which made the “space age” possible, the benefits of which we now all take for granted. Before we went, we thought we had better find the detention centre as well, so we drove up to it outside the town, saw the “trespassers prosecuted” signs, did a u-turn and drove on. Yawn!

Rolls Royce motor. Thought of pinching it for the X-Trail, to give it a bit of a power boost.

The Blue Steel rocket. This was designed to carry a nuclear weapon. The display hastened to add that only the British actually loaded bombs in them and the ones fired at Woomera were harmless toys.

The Canberra bomber. I remember one flying over Launceston in the '60s.

Oh yes, the Detention Centre. Boring! (**Serious grumble warning***) Fancy association Woomera only with a detention centre and not with the leading edge of rocket science for over a generation! Grrr!!

The drive on down into Port Augusta was fairly uneventful. Bare landscape gave way to a softer, more vegetated land, we lost height fairly steadily, and finally Port Augusta was in sight. We moseyed around for a bit and did some shopping and then pushed on for Port Pirie. Another change of mind came over us, and we backtracked to go through the Southern Flinders Ranges to Wilmington. From there we would drive down the Clare Valley towards Adelaide. So we drove east at Winninowie  to go through the Horrocks Pass.

Approaching the Horrocks Pass in the southern Flinders Rangers. We had suddenly arrived in a world of green!

At Wilmington we drove to the Stoney Creek Bush Camp where we settled down in a very lush and green bush setting. We had most definitely left the outback behind!

Washing-up time.

Day 73: First a tour and then we leave Coober Pedy (13/08/12)

We had signed up for a bus tour which would explain to us everything about Coober Pedy. Normally we are not particularly good bus tour people, but there were so many questions on our minds about the place that a tour seemed the best way to have them answered.

And it worked out well, that way. The tour guide/bus driver was Rudi, an ex-opal miner who had lived in Coober Pedy for over 30 years, and had also done opal mining in Andamooka, another South Australian source of opal. Rudi had an engaging manner and a thick foreign accent that somehow sounded very familiar. He had a wealth of knowledge and a stock of well-used jokes. There was not much about the town and its workings that he did not know about. We toured around the town, visited the Serbian Orthodox Church, 

Facade of the Serbian Orthodox Church, Coober Pedy

The stained glass window from the inside. One man dug this whole church from scratch in 4 weeks.

Carvings over the altar (done in soft sandstone, one slip and you can't do it again!)

The sanctuary and pulpit

Detail of the carving in the foyer

drove through the dugout suburbs, 

Somebody's house!

went for a fossick, 

Rudi the guide explains the rules for fossicking, or "noodling" as it is called.

Joke tries her hand at fossicking. She hoped to find a shark's tooth or two as well!

went to the Coober Pedy Golf Club, which is unlike any other golf course in the world – with a total lack of any grass whatsoever – yet is affiliated with St Andrews in Scotland. 

The Coober Pedy Golf Course. The black patch upper centre is the green. The black is sump oil to keep the dust down.

Rudi explained the diggings to us, how there are no mining companies but just individuals who will partner up to dig a particular spot. Finally we went to the Umoona Museum, which we had visited on Saturday, had a video presentation, 

Joke in the underground auditorium

then took us down, first into the caretaker’s “cottage” underground, 

The library in the caretaker's cottage

The kitchen

The bedroom (all of these are actually being used!)

Miner's quarters until the 1960s. Someone actually walked out of here & it hasn't been touched since.

and then into the tunnels where you can still see the opal in the rock. 

Opal is found in a "line" visible here where the torch beam is shining. Incredibly easy to miss!

Then coffee and more stories and we were brought back to our caravan park. A morning well spent! Talking to Rudi over coffee, I found out that he was born in Austria, and instantly I realised why he sounded so familiar. Somehow, though he looked nothing like our Bernie Einoder, he was the spitting image, his jokes, his accent, his pratfalls, his very manner were exactly like the esteemed Prof. Mind you, his jokes were not scatological and his expertise was opal mining and not joints, but you could close your eyes and think you were listening to Bernie’s twin brother.

So it was about one o’clock or later before we got away in the direction of Adelaide. 

Underground suburb in Coober Pedy

Sign at the entrance to the town. I think there must have been a couple of hundred of these trucks in the town and on the diggings.

The funny danger sign. I like the "Don't step backward when you take a picture!" one on the right.

The road south took us through a country that was large, empty and flat

We drove as far as Glendambo, about 250 kms south and took up residence behind the roadhouse there. We were joined there late in the day by a group of Japanese backpackers who proceeded to make a big bonfire. Later in the evening, they brought out what must have been a second-hand generator – I suppose to charge their mobile phones. It was by far the loudest generator I have heard on the trip, and I thought of feeding it some sugar or urine or something, but was restrained by Joke, who is much more sensible about these things than me. As a general observation, I can’t say that I’m happy about the use of generators when travelling the way we do. They have something of the boganesque about them, you have to be prepared to say: “Stuff everybody else, but it’s absolutely crucial that I get to see “Days of Our Lives” on my satellite TV out here in the bush!” You wonder why they left home at all in the first place. Our Japanese in question probably spent $6 in petrol to save the $5 which would have got them a powered site.