Tramping tales for April 2014

 ‘Ferry cross the Murray’ were all patronised by very quaint Welcome Swallows...

An unexpected set of BLASTS in the still of early morning quite bewildered George in the midst of his serious breakfast making... Unholy expletives followed as he began to mop up spilt milk until his wife’s chuckles followed up with ‘It’s the Murray Princess warning the Lock Operator” – with that, he was off like a long dog to find the best view point for a photo. We were camped on the river at Lock One; on the opposite bank to Blanchetown. We’d endured a particularly hot night after a series of days of ever rising temperatures. The fridge laboured and our batteries struggled especially as we’d been parked in shade for the past three days which cut solar power. Another shortage was water. We had refilled our tanks in Mt Barker and for the past ten days had been using our precious town water sparingly, reluctant to use any river water in our tanks. All places, particularly caravan parks along the Murray River tend to use water straight from the river. Signs warn ‘to boil before drinking’ yet we’d relied on our filter. It became so choked with sediment, the tap actually groaned with difficulty and we ordered a replacement while parked at Mt Barker. We certainly didn’t want to choke the new one. The Riverland Fruit Fly zone severely limited us when it came to fresh fruit and vegetables. With the added discomfort of heat; Lea decided ‘enough was enough’ we had to leave the river and go west sooner into a more civilised area like Eden Valley for replenishment. Waking to droplets of rain at dawn with overcast sky and the merriment derived from the Murray Princess horn altered her frame of mind. We reconsidered a departure from the river we have come to adopt as our own!

Murray Princess and pelicans have become personally symbolic of the Murray River.  And, dates back to the first night we ever camped beside the river, April 2006.  

 

We decided to ‘stay on plan’ following the Murray to its ‘North West Bend end’ or the ‘Great Elbow’ at Morgan, taking advantage of grey clouds to travel more swiftly and hopefully find power and water and a good shower at Mt. Mary’s Hotel before the day was done. Having failed to find anyone knowledgeable about the existence of a cave system let alone the ‘Tartangan Man’ we now set our sights on finding the faunal emblem of South Australia,  the  southern hairy-nosed wombat, said to be found in the Murray-lands. We took the less travelled gravel road on the west bank to Morgan in hope.  We popped down to Pelican Point. “Checking” said George! He had been inclined to use this rough river side camp with honour box on a citrus farm as the next stopping point. No matter, Lea’s heel had dug in!  We found Morgan as we remembered it and before taking the busy ferry crossing into the Morgan Conservation Park we noticed the Morgan Museum was opened; in we went.  More often than not, museums open on a specific day or two during a week and we lose out on a good font of local knowledge. We struck lucky here as the two men and the museum were full of interest although they didn’t know anything of a cave system between Swan Reach and Overland Corner! Not that we held that against them. More interesting was NO southern hairy-nose wombat to be found east of the river so we wouldn’t find any in the Conservation Park at Morgan. They couldn’t believe we’d seen nothing along the gravel road as regular sightings occur there. Not as many as there once were as recent high water events had drowned many in their burrows. In fact, even more recently, would be rescuers had gone and dug the wombats out of low lying land when the river threatened to inundate. The Museum men suggested Brookfield Conservation Park would be a good bet as a breeding programme is underway there. Another interesting piece of information gleaned in the museum referred to Weeping Willows. These exotics often take a bad rap. Planted by immigrants keen to replicate their homeland; they are generally considered pests for dominating riverine vegetation and over-consuming Australia’s precious water. Here, in Morgan we discovered apart from river charts, other useful aids to river navigation on the Murray were the weeping willows ... Many of which were planted by river men to mark the normal river course. This may seem strange but in times of flood, following the channel was difficult; many paddle steamers deviated only to become stranded when flood waters receded.  By using the tightly knit, stabilising willows as navigating markers, skippers kept in the main channel.  Before we departed, George enquired about the availability of treated water. The museum allowed us to refill our tanks and Gerry cans.

After crossing the river by our favourite method – the ferry, we found ourselves in not only a free but most perfect P site (peaceful, pretty, private) in the Morgan Conservation Park for our last night overlooking the mighty Murray. Why move on to an inland hotel campground when we had water and could easily use our generator. A hue and cry of screeching resounded as we prepared to stay. Thinking it was a noisy cockatoo we looked up into the nearby gum tree only to be somewhat nonplussed to see a magpie literally ‘squawking’ at us.  It settled once we soothingly asked what its problem was? We soon became best of friends with “Cleft” so named for the missing chunk from its upper bill. Regardless of its handicap, Cleft easily caught food in the air and was seemingly habituated to human presence. George had picked up old copies of Australian Geographic and in the one, was an interesting article on Gymnorhina tibicen, the Australian magpie. Well suited to its many common names of flute bird, organ bird, piper or singing crow it really does have a remarkably melodious range of vocalisations. Whether it’s a solo, duet or carolling as a group, we love listening to them but this was the first time we came across one mimicking a cockatoo.

             

Lovely walks in the sandy flood plains of this small conservation park in the apex of the ‘elbow’. Further upstream, on the opposite bank sitting atop the limestone cliffs we came across a large yet very quiet Pump Station. It carries out a most important life sustaining task for the inland arid areas of South Australia.  Morgan proved to be an ideal location for pumping water to the mid areas of the State and as far north as Woomera. In the coming weeks we were to see some of the pipe-work as we traversed the State westwards and upwards in the direction of Woomera.  Another cloudy yet very pleasant day followed; it was just too hard to uproot and leave the Murray River and we stayed on a second night.

We’d reassessed our travel route as Lea didn’t fancy another week without a shower and nor did she appreciate the empty fridge. With little need for haste - Eden Valley – Garden of gums and vines attracted us back, for a third visit this year. On departing the Murray River we promised to be back sooner rather than never; took the road out of Morgan as far as Mt Mary (glad we didn’t stay there the previous night) before taking a back road south with a small detour towards Blanchetown, hoping for a night in Brookfield Conservation Park. The Chicago Zoological Society bought this 5534 hectare property and gifted it to South Australia for the conservation of the southern hairy-nosed wombat with a large breeding population. Two thirds of the park is closed to the public as long and short term research takes place there.  We were disappointed to find ‘no camping’ as that heavily cut our chances of seeing a wombat at dusk or dawn. Nevertheless, in we went to enjoy the Bluebush and Mallee drive; the one hour looped Three Habitat Walk and another hour spent on the Charcoal Pit Walk. Not one pit but fifteen, concealed within salt bush! The remnants of the Charcoal burner’s dirt floored hut of flattened kerosene tins, nearby. What a job in such dry and fiercely hot conditions; seeking a Mallee tree to cut out the main stem of these multi-stemmed trees before getting his haul back to the pits. The 2m deep bottom of each  3m x 4m pit would be have a piece of galvanised iron in its base before being filled with dry wood and the freshly cut mallee placed on top. Once the wood was ignited another layer of galvanised iron placed on top to maintain heat and the lot covered in soil.  What a labour intensive job by usually only a husband and wife team. Out in the arid areas, beyond the Goyder Line wood and charcoal were in such short supply it became a commodity for bartering. Further south, the chilly temperatures produced another needy market for charcoal

Brookfield is on the southern fringe of South Australia’s arid zone (North of the Goyder line!) and we enjoyed walking amongst the Bluebush, the Mallee woodlands and arid shrub land of sugar-wood trees. We came across many wombat warrens - dug beneath sheets of limestone rock with wombats distinctive rectangular droppings deposited around the periphery. None on rocks!  Their ‘parcels’ were much smaller than Tassie or Victorian wombats. Clouds had bunched up in the sky and we hoped a wombat would seek warmth   out in a bit of sunlight – nothing. While creeping around listening for any wombat sounds, one of the burrow entrances collapsed under George’s weight. No alarm came from within but the incident raised a giggle from the only onlooker. We stayed for a picnic lunch before departing. The rattle of our rig down the rough tracks frightened a good few western grey kangaroos from well concealed resting spots. We always enjoy watching them bounding across the landscape.

The historic town of Sedan, settled in the 1850’s by Lutherans and once a busy railway town  considered to be the ‘Plains’ capital; drew us in its direction. Particularly as it had a chequered history for flooding being situated in a depression and on cross-roads. We found an old steam flour mill and other many 19^th century buildings in well cared for condition but no provision for campers. We looked for the dry stone walls built by the early settler’s supposedly surrounding town. Decided there wasn’t much in that regard and we left on the final leg to Eden Valley with the Mount Lofty Ranges to get over. Approaching the range we were taken aback to see a sign warning of roadside fire damage for the next 8km. Sure enough, out in the vast paddocks once dotted with shady trees standing testament to time; we were crushed to see the fallen scorched remains of colossal trees. Their blackened trunks providing a complete contrast to the rock strewn grasslands that, since the fire, are e flushed by hues of green and well on their way to recovery. That a fire ripped through grazing lands with a heat devastating enough to wipe-out trees of that magnitude was difficult to get a head around..   

Confusion! Where are we? Looks like the Lake District of England!

Unexpectedly, we came across the wonderfully extensive dry stone walls stretching away in different directions into the distance and beyond, as we ascended the Mt Lofty Range ... Well worth seeing and we were so glad we’d happened upon this very scenic drive.

We pulled into our familiar Eden Valley and the small caravan park on the edge of the local sportsground on the eve of a very auspicious birthday for George.  Boy! Did we delight in our first hot shower in a week of ‘bird bathing’ using a meagre amount of water.  Back in highlands, we also needed hot showers to warm us up as it was cold!   

Daughter Saxon spotlights her father, George on becoming a septuagenarian.

A milestone birthday doesn’t usually pass in the way this did – no food in the fridge and barely enough milk to make the celebrator a cup of morning tea!  First up, they charged off to find a supermarket in the closest town, Nuriootpa. Fortunately there was a cafe opposite the entrance to Foodland and we stopped for a toasted egg and bacon sandwich birthday treat. Shopping completed, it was back to the mundane – laundry and cleaning of rig as we quietly waited out the day.  Time zones mixed with diffident signal strengths as we travel the roads always have to be considered in a life ‘Down Under’ especially when it comes to special occasions. Lea had come up with plenty of excuses to ensure a suitable area for Face-time or phone calls for this day. That night, while George spoke with family, his wife prepared his preferred dinner of cottage pie – definitely not celebratory food by her book!  Fortunately, the last quarter of this year has shaped up to be a ‘cherry’ for George to look forward to in celebration of three score years and ten. He will be crossing off the top two places on his bucket list and he will meet up with long standing friends.

Not far up the drag from Eden Valley was the National Heritage homestead of ‘Collingrove’. Three times we have failed to gain access to the property for a visit. With everything sorted we decided to enjoy spending Sunday’s opening hours of 12 noon – 4 p.m. seeing inside the house and enjoying the gardens as it had turned into a beautiful warm afternoon. This time no sign hung across the gateway ‘closed for wedding’ just a small chalk board with Felix’s 5^th Birthday stood to the side. Yay! We had struck lucky and drove in.  In the midst of orientating ourselves another car arrived and the man explained ‘Collingrove’ was closed for a birthday.  Not suspecting this was the owner we told him a party was on in the grounds but it wasn’t closed! Thwarted once again! However, when he heard we were from interstate and had already tried to visit 3 times – he allowed us to walk through the gardens and from there we enjoyed different aspects of the old homestead.  On our early return to the caravan park we decided to play tennis! Having observed two old rackets and a couple of coloured balls in the laundry; a  half size court with net in place close to our caravan; the game was on. Embarrassed shrieks and hopeless giggling vent the air as we regularly swiped at fresh air and spent more time walking to pick up a nasty red and yellow ball; the revolving colours of which played havoc on our eyesight and worse the ball didn’t bounce properly. The other worn and  faded green and yellow ball appeared to have been a dog’s plaything and landed heavily – with no hope of lifting it after the second bounce. The Park Caretaker, drawn by somewhat manic sounds emanating from the court, warned we’d have difficulties leaving next day due to over exertion! It was hard to believe tennis had once played a big part in our lives back in Africa as it was such a struggle to keep a ball in motion. We persevered for a good half hour and, unfortunately, it was the ‘youngster’, who suffered with aches in shoulders, back, knee and neck over coming days...

We returned to the route, George had plotted out from Morgan – re joining the Sturt Highway at Truro. (One shocking section of gravel to reach Truro had us laughing at the signs some local had gone to the trouble of erecting: 4WD a necessity for next 7 km; Keep well left if you dare over oncoming rise; No grader ahead; Shake, Rattle and Roll).  Not long on the Sturt Highway and we turned onto World’s End Highway and began encountering the invisible ‘Goyder line’ (a boundary delineating arable from non-arable land).  Drawing into Eudunda the welcoming sign  informed we’d reached the “Birthplace of famous author and educator Colin Thiele AC”. A penny dropped and we were thrilled to realise we’d accidently come across “Storm Boy’s” author. We drove slowly through town looking for anything to do with one of Australia’s best loved storyteller’s with over 100 books to his name. We only knew ‘Storm Boy’ with a passion!  A tourist sign had us pull into a small car park for the  strikingly unusual Eudunda Gardens. While George checked the insides of Getaway for anything untoward; a lady came out of the public toilets and greeted Lea and of course, a conversation ensued. Once again the hand of fate was felt- she produced a Eudunda Pack out of her car boot. “Timing” really does play a huge part in life as this Eudunda Garden volunteer had nipped into the toilet before heading home after checking the watering system. Aside from all the booklets and history of Eudunda contained in the pack she was able to direct us to Colin Thiele’s old family home and suggested we didn’t miss the  Kid’s Scrub!

First a visit to Colin Thiele’s statue with best loved Mr Percival the Pelican (20/11/1920 – 4/9/2006) and interpretive boards. Soon time was flittering contentedly past as we enjoyed all, this beautifully kept park, had to offer. There was such attention to detail with a strong sense of pride in place obvious throughout. Eudunda evolved  from a watering stop for stock being brought overland from Queensland and New South Wales during the  1840’s. The drovers attracted by the Aborigines fresh water spring - Eudunndacowi (meaning- water from the ground).  Once again early settlers were mainly Lutheran German’s escaping religious persecution in their homeland or the severe droughts gripping Europe in the late 1840’s. In celebration of 125 years of white settlement in 1995, much of the area’s history and their inhabitants were put together in the form of personalised handwriting and art work inscribed upon tiles. Some related to personal family stories from the past, which were utterly delightful. As for the Kid’s Scrub – how easily we could have dismissed what was a  superb   corner ...  Tables with games and information on the flora and fauna abounded – produced by different schools with hands on involvement by their pupils. We followed stepping stone footpaths through the well tended   scrub; each slab individually marked with the child’s footprint and their name. Little ant plaques or bird and animal tracks joined the throng and gave direction to the gazebos in the shape of bird cages adorned with bird shapes cut-out of metal.. We have never seen Creeping Salt bush used so effectively- this added a wonderful dimension of undulation to the gardens and could rave on and on. The following photos hardly do justice – peer closely!

 “Colin’s life was a deep well from which one could draw refreshment and encouragement.  He walked down the road of recollection among the people and the land he loved and portrayed so well” – 

Part of the eulogy given by Max Fatchen.

The metal silhouette of Gustav and his dog, the Town’s logo and brand, is found at road entrances and on historical buildings. It is taken from a fictional character out of one of Colin Thiele’s book because it represents the relaxed country lifestyle here and acknowledges the partnership and cooperation between a Farmer and his working dog. When we’d had a surfeit of Eudunda Gardens we returned to the road taking us to Burra Creek Gorge with a brief stop to see Thiele’s family home. 

Burra Creek Gorge

The name of the campground gave rise to something special and the walk we took up into what was rather erroneously the gorge, turned out to be disappointing. More disconcerting were the signs close by saying Keep Out – Private Property. Far better just to call it the Burra Creek Conservation Park as the expansive and most attractive campground followed the creek line and we were happy to spend a few days in this well cared for area. Soaking rains began falling during the night and didn’t let up all the next day or the next.  We sat it out thinking it couldn’t possibly last too long... Much as rain is desperately needed especially along the arid divide – With no signal or power, sitting in the caravan was no fun. We played three games of scrabble one night and two the next. We even took a long walk down stream in the rain and were blown away by the gnarled bases of old gum trees in the weirdest shapes with the wet weather making trunk colours really stand out. Inspiring for artists - George went mad snapping pics. A steady rain on the rooftop creates a white noise but when you are parked under large trees, different rhythms develop and amplify becoming a form of ‘water torture’.  Worse at night, when the discordant sounds hammer incessantly into your head! By the third day we’d had enough, not only the rain drove us out we feared the sticky road would become impassable.  We had to forego a stay in the Red Bank Conservation Park for the same reason - rain churning dirt roads into mud and pushed on to Burra.  Our favourite spot in the showground was a mire of mud. It took us time to seek out a level spot – slithering and sliding or beginning to dig into the damp ground was far from fun and we eventually resorted to using our wooden chocks to level Getaway more evenly. The rain kept up but we had power – lamb shanks slow cooking away, computers to work on and television – life was good again.   

The rain kept tumbling down... however, our interest was piqued by huge moths sitting immobile on the toilet block wall.  Another caravanner confidently ascertained they were Bogong moths – George thought otherwise; luckily he had an Australia Geographic article on the Bogong moth to prove it!  Confined to ‘cabin’ George used the internet and with the help of CSIRO’s image library and Wikipedia tentatively identified it. There were four large moths on the wall. Had we come across a ‘lek’? That is to say an aggregation of males gathered together before or during the breeding season. Endemic to Australia, the larvae of the Pindi moth are considered a pest in some areas, particularly temperate rainforest where eucalypti are prevalent as these larvae live for over eighteen months underground chewing the tap and lateral roots of eucalypt trees. In their feeding they may create deformities in the root system even ring-bark or girdle the roots causing the tree to die. And, we were intrigued to note that adult moths survive for approximately one week, as they have no mouthparts with which to feed. Another fact of interest; the females lay eggs during flight in a scattering fashion. Each day we checked to see whether the Pindi moths were still there and accounted for as they are preyed upon by bats and owls. On the third day all had gone... the noisy wind that arose in the night to blame? Lea picked up two wet corpses inside the open door to the Ladies toilet. The entomologist measured up a 15cm wing span.

Brown in colour overall, Pindi moths (also known as swift or ghost moths) are characterised by silver bars on the male's wings.

With clouds billowing heavily around us and a downpour over, we grabbed the small window of opportunity to get out and stretch our legs. We left the puddles and mud of the showgrounds and headed through North Burra (the Monster Mine region) to join the Heysen Trail, alongside the Burra Creek (the same creek we camped beside in the Conservation Park 25kms to the south east.) that took us through the rural outskirts to Burra itself. We stopped at the VIC for information on Red Banks Conservation Park and were promptly warned away from it as roads would be sticky and impassable.  Pity as Red Banks is recognised as one of the richest mega-fauna sites in Australia. The 1-2 tonne extinct Diprotodon, likened to a giant wombat was found here and we’d looked forward to a night in the campground to hopefully capture a Southern Hairy- nosed wombat on the camera-trap. George spotted a second hand book shop and we popped in to check the Australiana books – the smell of freshly baking cheese and herb scones and coffee promptly entrapped our senses in Gaslight Collectibles and we yielded!   A lady sitting at the next table recognised us as the walkers she seen at the cross road and began chatting - a long and convivial conversation followed which didn’t enable George to quietly relish the delicious scones; he wanted to return next day! We paid in kind for this delightful interlude as stopping caused us to return to Getaway drenched to the bone and have to put up with wet clothing draped around us.

South Australia’s Heysen Trail is approximately 1200km long and we have walked many small sections of it over the past three months.

On our last night we felt the caravan being jolted as noisy winds howled around us. When we viewed the day the windy conditions and thick cloud gave little prospect of solar for the campground ahead and we stayed another night in Burra. However, the following day conditions looked no better and George felt it was time to move on. We took the road through Mt Bryan. This triggered the odd bit of information we’d come across in the Morgan Museum. How the name arose (showing what sticks in our brain!). Captain James Sturt, under instructions from Governor Gawler, put together an 1839 exploration party which included their wives and daughters (Gawler received strong criticism from the press of the day for including women) in order to demonstrate to new immigrants that travel and settlement within the colony was safe.  Amongst Sturt’s party was Henry Bryan. The brief: explore the land overland from Morgan’s Murray River Elbow. Along the way Governor Gawler’s horse developed a problem and young Bryan swapped horses and supposedly limped the horse back.  Only he was never to be seen again. A message was found below his saddle out in the middle of nowhere – he was never declared missing presumed dead nor was a death certificate ever issued.  Captain Sturt named the peak amongst the many hills ‘Mt Bryan’ in his memory.  In Burra the surrounding hillsides are supposedly devoid of trees as a result of keeping the copper smelter going. However, there must be a limit to the impact dating that far back as the entire trip we undertook as far as Laura were treeless rolling hills, a condition that could be attributed to wheat farming. Perhaps a natural condition too as Marino sheep grazed out in vast grasslands and as we rumbled along the gravel road they turned tail in fright. In lousy weather conditions these sheep have no protection. Across the tops of hills many tall wind turbines are scattered across the landscape.

We overnighted in Terowie, ‘Break-of-Gauge’ pioneer railway town. Once, all freight and passengers had to change trains here due to the change in rail gauge size. In its hey-day the rail industry was the main employer in Terowie, requiring manpower for ‘transhipping’ freight and livestock from one train to another. Today, a population of 150, battles to keep the town on the map, which is a great pity.

The delightful streetscape put us in mind of a cowboy town film set.

The Terowie Citizens Association obviously worked with a will to have their town declared a ‘historic town’ in 1985, renovating and providing amenities to induce tourists to come their way and enjoy the history – they seem to have run out of ‘puff’ or perhaps funding.  We saw summons posted on properties that haven’t paid their rates in over three years. Residents do exist – yet nothing happens in town to lure even a dollar from tourists. Caravan and Motorhomes were welcome to overnight in the Railway Yard for free. Terowie was awarded Community Event of the Year 2003 for its Days of Rail and Screen commemorating famous sons of the town. The bright paintwork reflected in odd little corners indicated that all was not dead especially Bob the Railway Dog’s Interpretative Walking Track through the old station and the yard down to the cemetery. We became aware of ‘Bob’ in Peterborough a few years ago and we reacquainted ourselves with this character from the past as Terowie was another of Bob the Railway dog’s ‘padding grounds’. Oh! A rock marks the exact spot where US General Douglas MacArthur stepped onto the platform in Terowie declaring his famous words “I came out of Bataan and I shall return” after the General escaped from the Philippines with his wife and young son.  As for the ‘Screen’; an early Hollywood actor-director, John Patterson McGowan was born in Terowie and many of his movies had trains in them as his father had been a railway man. So much going for this pioneering town that it was really sad to see nothing was open, let alone appeared to be in working order – just going slowly to seed. Yet again, we muse over the ‘imprisonment’ of refugees at great expense off the Australian coast when places like this could be invigorated.  

Taking another back road through to Jamestown we happily spent two nights beside the Belalie Creek in an empty caravan park well situated to a town with obvious civic pride. We enjoyed many walks through and around the main street admiring heritage buildings, wall murals and, at the top of town, found purpose built shelters housing the annual Jamestown Mural Festival entries for 2014.

We’d planned to spend most of April down on the Eyre Peninsula prior to heading up the middle of Australia, in May. The calendar reminded us of Easter! Not wishing to get caught by ‘Easter’ traders or holiday-makers we began to look for places off the beaten track.  Our friends Di and Peter Ryan, returning home to Perth from the East, had similar thoughts. In checking each other’s whereabouts we found we could meet-up for Easter. Peter booked us into a ‘quiet’ caravan park in Orroroo, which is not far off.

We dawdled our way to Laura for another two nights. Earlier this year Laura was in the news as a fire had been burning out of control for a good month across the Flinders Range. Alex, the Park Manager surprised us by saying the CFS had declared that very day - the fire teams had been disbanded as the fire was finally out and no longer a threat. 75ml of rain had knocked it on the head allowing the Fire-fighters to return to their units after three months or more in the area battling to put the fires out.

Pan shot across the pastures and wheat fields in the direction of burnt out Southern Flinders Range.

Since departing the Murray we have travelled through a vista of never ending rolling hills. Usually a parched and dry landscape, recent good rains have turned them into green hills resulting in an appropriate ‘ear worm’ from childhood taking hold of Lea - “There is a green hill far away, without a city wall’ rounding off the lines from the hymn - “Where our dear Lord was crucified, he died to save us all” –Just as she thinks her brain is done with it; back it comes as we move on through more ‘green hills’... Oddly significant with Easter approaching!

  

Copper sculpture of C.J. Dennis, the Australian balladeer who spent part of his childhood in Laura and commemorated it in his poem ‘Laura Days’

Our hearts dropped on arrival at the Orroroo Caravan Park boundary, and dropped even further as we surveyed bleak, noisy gravel, no shade trees and close proximity to the main road. The very reason we never book ahead looked us starkly in the face. Despite the pleasure of an Easter weekend with friends Di and Peter Ryan it was hard to think positively on a looming four days here. Heather, the delightful owner unwittingly eased the situation as she directed George to the end of the small park advising he could set up anyway that suited him as the large area had been set aside for the Begg/Ryan caravans. Once the Ryan’s rolled in after morning tea we were never to be bothered by negativity again, despite particular trucks rattling by in the nights ahead. On the opposite side, Orroroo Caravan Park had a wonderful outlook across a golf course, the very scenic Pekina Creek, Tank Hill lookout, with a reservoir nestled further up the valley and rolling hills to provide a fine backdrop to the setting sun. Twice we undertook the walking trail though the valley and we ‘sang a different tune’ by the time we came to depart! This was a park with a big reputation thanks to its owners. The first afternoon was spent orientating ourselves around the sleepy hamlet - bigger than expected. Just out of town, beyond the corrugated iron sculptures of kangaroo at the entrance to Orroroo, we walked to Pekina Creek to see the Giant River Red Gum holding pride of place on the list of things to see in Orroroo. With an unusually solid girth of 10.4 metres and at least 6 metres in height before the trunk forked; this is the oldest living tree in the locality and estimated to be over five hundred years in age. It has aged incredibly well for all that nature throws at it. In the main street, we were lucky enough to come upon the work horse sculptures nodding realistically away, thanks to the good breeze blowing or we’d have missed the otherwise undetectable motion.

   

Shots of Orroroo - Although out of place is Bob the Railway Dog from Peterborough. George likes that dog and slipped it in as a good fit there!

While in Laura our eyes had caught sight of a small poster advertising a Working Dog Demonstration at 1p.m each day for the next two weeks. Always intrigued by this type of show we failed to get through to Bookings for further information. We mentioned the show to the Ryan’s and our intention to hopefully get a place after the Easter rush when we arrived in Wilmington. Their ears pricked up with great interest and a decision made to pack a picnic lunch and time a round trip through Melrose and Wilmington intercepting the Working Dog Centre early enough to see what the story was there. Lyn Page assured us of seats when she opened the gates an hour later.

Time enough to introduce Di and Peter to our one of our most favourite haunts - Hancock’s Lookout on top of the Southern Flinders, overlooking the Spencer Gulf. A perfect spot for a picnic!

We arrived back at Ben and Lyn Page’s Working Dog Centre to find two cars ahead of us waiting admittance. Expecting an hour or so of entertainment watching trained Australian Kelpies and Border Collies work sheep we soon found ourselves caught up in a full afternoon learning how this husband and wife team pursue a passion for breeding and training top quality puppies from birth to become working dogs. Ben is S.A. Dog Whisperer and he gave us a wonderful insight into how they train their dogs and teach people the art of stockmanship. 

  Working Dogs

Lea chatted to Lyn on the walk up to the Page’s verandah for tea, when Lyn noticed the youngest pup from the ‘show’ had inextricably entangled her very short chain with another dog. It took Lea and Lyn some panicky moments battling to sort out the problem without the pup strangulating itself until Pete’s strength was called upon to unhitch the taut chains. Lea delighted in walking the working dog back to its kennel remembering to use the right words ‘Here” and in praise...“That’ll do”! When Lyn and Ben have free time from the forty dogs they presently work with  – Lyn works in her small shed making training collars and leads for sale or scrap-booking. Ben has a huge shed to house his other passion - vintage Jeeps.  After tea he happily took us into the workshop and gave us the background history to his acquisition of his rare and sought after vehicles. We certainly experienced a most worthwhile and thoroughly enjoyable visit.

We specifically shot back to Peterborough on Easter Saturday for the “Festival Market” only to find the dozen (if that) tables were a disappointment. The seemingly wasted visit was saved when we all focused in on a local artist at work painting typical South Australian scenes in oils on wooden plaques; then we paid our respects to Bob the dog’s statue further along the main street of town. We took a loop route back to Orroroo via Magnetic Hill. This well known tourist attraction reminded us of Ghost Hill in Somerset West.  The phenomenon of both these places is their uncanny ability to make vehicles appear to roll uphill, which gave us a bit of a giggle!  On approaching Orroroo, Pete swung up to Tank Hill Lookout. He was determined to have that visit taken care of by car in order to avoid another evening bout trying to persuade him to take a stroll up Tank Hill Lookout! Up on top, we took in the view over the artesian basin in the valley of the Walloway Plain and the township.  In the heat of day with flies out in force Pete swung the car back onto the main road and we all felt the distinctive bumping of a puncture. Payback! This turned out to be Pete’s first puncture... The entire boot had to be emptied of all the “we may need this” items to reach the tools in the well basement; the wheel-nuts impossibly tight to undo; the hydraulic jack unable to rise for lack of oil. Fortunately the Ryan’s had taken out Roadside Assist for their Round Australia 2012 only it had expired last year. Their RAC membership was good and after clearance Peter was advised the RAC Officer was on his way. Leaving the men to wait with the flies, Di and Lea walked back to camp.  A canine-shaped stone proved to have been Pete’s undoing!

That evening we strolled down to the golf course and another section of Pekina Creek to see two Rock Poems.  Our search took us through infestations of meat-ants and prickly paths that rose and fell alongside the creek; well beyond Tank Hill Lookout! How or even why the author D. McDonald came to carve his poems into the slate face of a secluded gully beats us. All we are told is he engraved the poems as an expression of farewell prior to his departure for America in 1901 where he hoped to exploit his invention of a crank driven pushbike. By the time we reached home we richly deserved our sundowners; a long chilled G & T.

We’d read there was a walk around town to ‘Find the Magpie’ and discover the history of Orroroo buildings. We found the first of only two when we arrived at the Anglican Church for the Easter Service. George had volunteered to guard camp and peel the vegetables in readiness for a Sunday Roast while the trio walked down a block to make up 50% of the congregation (that included the visiting priest from Jamestown). With so few people it was quite a strain to sing above the computer recorded organ music. Roast lamb and winter vegetables followed by ‘egg in a nest’ dessert finished off a relaxed Easter celebration with the Ryan’s. George and Lea worked off the late lunch with a speedy stride up Tank Hill Lookout while Pete waited in vain, for the return of his punctured tyre.

Spare tyre all sorted – we parted company after a delightfully social long weekend. Ryan’s heading for the Central Flinders Range while we travelled 40 kms across the Walloway Plains to Carrieton for a night, or so we thought.  We ended up staying four thanks to the ‘pay two get two free’ offer. We’d spent a night in Horseshoe View Caravan Park after our trip to Lake Eyre in 2011 and liked the pretty shady park in the old school yard. Amazingly the price hadn’t risen and, we were given a discount so four nights with spotless amenities panned out at $9 – unbelievable! Grey Nomads Bill and his wife Mary are ‘Park-sitting’ for the Carrieton Council over the coming few months. They also do farm-sits and were quick to tell us about good drives in the area. We thought the park looked out onto the Horseshoe Range hence its name, but those were the Oladdie Hills, the Horseshoe Range behind us. Next day, we hit the back roads to discover the secret pleasures of the ‘shoe. The 4WD route into Horseshoe Pound (a mini Wilpena Pound of Central Flinders fame) with a pretty strenuous climb to the top of Moockra Tower, was well worth it for the views...

Note the macabre scene of a sheep skeleton that died after trapping its back legs in the fence. George incorporated into the photo approaching the rock formation known as Moockra Tower.

The following day we set off into the Oladdie Hills giving us scenic views of gum creeks, slate outcrops, ruins and old buildings in the ‘deserted’ town of Johnburgh. With so much green surrounding us at present we could understand the agricultural ‘promise’ this lovely looking land presented. Yet, the many homesteads lying in ruins are testament to the 1870’s fever for wheat country and land hungry immigrants expectations for rich farming returns. Instead, there lies heartbreak and the validity of Goyder’s Line. A line that George Woodruffe Goyder was instructed to “lay down on a map, as nearly as practicable, the line of demarcation between that portion of country where the rainfall has extended, and that where drought prevails” in 1865. As we popped over the Oladdie Hills the Oladdie Plain expanded across the width of the horizon.  In the supposedly ‘deserted‘ town of Johnburgh we found signs of life in a couple of old houses – the Australian flag even flapped from a pole nevertheless, the hotel built with grand expectations was a sad ruin. Often these old hotels manage to stay the distance as somewhat bleak ‘watering holes’ but this one failed as many locals joined prohibition and abstained from alcohol in the 20^th century! The corrugated iron building once the Johnburgh Hall stood a lonely reminder of much happiness and social activity. Built with borrowed money it had quickly repaid its debt with table tennis challenges musical and dance evenings; the dance floor recognised as the best amongst all the districts. Decay was still an overriding factor... We decided not to continue north but return through the picturesque Oladdie Hills and the beautifully twisting creek demarcated with the wonderful shapes of River Red Gums. As we turned on the gravel road George’s hawk eyes noticed a short train of processionary caterpillars. We leapt from the truck for closer observation. Alerted to their presence we were to recognise another set further along the road following their leader.

Picking roads to mark new travels we discovered Stony Creek Bush Camp Caravan Park, outside of Wilmington. We liked the look of it, despite the owners warning of 60 plus Harley Davidson descending for the ANZAC long weekend and we stayed two nights.

The roar of these iron-horses excited us throughout the weekend with their comings and goings. 

Back to Hancock’s Lookout for a customary night in this beaut spot until the wind came up during the night and noisily knocked the rig about.

 We escaped the windy conditions by heading for Quorn and Warren Gorge. We had enjoyed a stay in the Gorge in 2007 and looked forward to a return with more time to enjoy the yellow footed rock wallaby.

Quite the prettiest little wallaby and we were able to observe them for a good while.

If it was the wind that chased us off the top of the Southern Flinders, it was the rain that chased us out of Warren Gorge through to Port Augusta two days earlier than planned. SKV has a long planned appointment with the 4WD Service Centre here for the start of May and Getaway has one scheduled for the end of May in Alice Springs. Shortly, our noses will all be pointing northwards.