On the Road Again

It’s difficult to describe what it’s like driving through the Australian outback.  The terrain is flat, very flat as far as the eye can see.  Similar to looking at the ocean when the horizon seems to curve, so it does with the land.  Sometimes a mountain appears faintly blue in the far distance.  Desert sand scattered with rocks form much of the scenery with small, tough, grizzled shrubs and grasses fighting for every drop of moisture.  Just a few stunted and sun blackened trees dot the landscape.  It’s harsh, unforgiving country, but strangely beautiful. 

The sky is enormous; azure blue with a few fluffy white clouds adding contrast.  As the day develops it gets hotter, the sun gets brighter and mirages of water appear ahead.  Sunglasses are vital to minimise the glare.  Vin Rouge has no air conditioning so the windows are open to allow the breeze to provide some relief from the heat of the day. 

The dirt road stretches ahead into the distance.  Twenty minutes ago there was a slight curve where we slowed to avoid sliding on the corrugations and loose stones that always seem to be a feature at these places.  Kim spots half a dozen emus to our left so we slow down again knowing that they often change direction and dash out just ahead of us.  They’re big birds, standing more than two metres and would make quite a mess if we hit one. 

A couple of wedge tailed eagles circle in the sky searching for thermals, meanwhile another rips chunks off some road kill not far ahead.  As we approach it eases itself majestically into the sky, its two metre wingspan slowly lifting the huge bird away from us. 

Periodically the track dips a little to cross a creek, dried up of course, but there’s a line of slightly greener foliage to mark its course.  A kangaroo looks out from between two stunted bushes, pricks up its ears at our approach and hops casually away.  Then the scenery returns to sand, rocks, scrub and dust.  Two hours later it’s pretty much the same.

The dust is malevolent and follows us along as a great cloud.  It pervades everything.  Now Land Rovers are not known for their superior door seals and the stuff drives in from every tiny crevice.  Even pop rivets end up with a ring of dust around them.  Now and again we pass another vehicle.  Normally both vehicles slow to a crawl to avoid flying stones that can break windscreens and to minimise dust clouds through which it is not possible to see more than a few metres ahead.  Occasionally some dolt either doesn’t think or doesn’t care and goes flying by.  We normally come to a complete stop when this happens and just wait for the dust to clear so that we can see our way ahead.

We’ve driven something like 250 kilometres on dirt roads, from Lyndhurst to Marree, then on the  Oodnadatta Track followed by a detour southwards on the Borefield Road to Roxby Downs (about 80 kms north of Woomera if you’re looking at the map). 

But first, a little diversion.  Kim, who is in charge of navigation, often decides that we should visit somewhere ‘not too far off our course’.  This usually means a couple of hundred kms but are usually rewarding.  On this occasion we took a dirt track and camped at Muloorina Station waterhole. 

Remote it certainly was, we were the only people for miles.  As the sun set over the trees putting on a spectacular show, the stars appeared.  For those readers who have not visited the southern hemisphere, imagine all the stars you can see on a dark night, then multiply by a hundred and you’ve some idea of just how many stars bless the heavens in the southern sky.  We had a camp fire blazing that gradually settled into a mass of red charcoal, so we settled in our chairs with a glass of wine in hand, relaxed our way into the evening until it was time to turn in.  Lovely.

Next morning we awoke at sunrise when everything was bathed in a golden light.

Now back to the story. 

Roxby Downs; it conjures up mental images of an English village, complete with church bells ringing on a Sunday morning, the local pub with oak beams and an inglenook fireplace, thatched cottages and cows in the field.  If anything could be further than the truth it’s Roxby Downs.  Basically it’s a town built around and for a mine.  Uranium, gold and copper come out of the ground and most of the population of 4,000 is transient.  The town itself is pleasant enough and I spent a pleasant hour in the library making use of the free internet whilst Kim had her hair cut.  I was even interviewed by the local radio station on ‘health and happiness’!

There’s only one place to camp, the local caravan park, and it should be good.  It’s quite large and the facilities are modern.  However, the woman running the place can at best be described as unhelpful and unfriendly.  Over $30 to stay in a parking bay we thought excessive, especially when there we plenty of unused sites available.  Grrr!  Still enough of that.  Tomorrow we’re going on a tour of the mine – surface only unfortunately – and will then return along the Borefield Road to the Oodnadatta Track.

When next we get a phone signal we’ll update the blog with our adventures.  Until then, it’s a balmy night and it’s time to send this up the wire.

The Flinders

As we head north, the weather becomes warmer during the day but cools rapidly at sundown so we continue with our central heating – a hot water bottle popped under the duvet an hour before we turn in.  Once in the tent it’s cosy and warm, no matter what it’s like outside. 

The Australian Arid Lands Botanic Garden is just outside Port Augusta, a small town about a day’s gentle drive north of Adelaide.  Kim was keen to see the Sturt’s Desert Pea.  It’s an odd looking plant that is the State Emblem of South Australia, although it’s a rarity to find one growing naturally.  We found it of course, growing in profusion, but that’s what Botanic Gardens are all about.

 

 

Most Australian desert plants are tough, grizzled looking things from a distance, but get close and it’s often a surprise to see delicate little flowers in a wide variety of colours.  How about this little gem as an example?

 

 

On the road again and we were held up at a rail crossing whilst a train went by, all one and a quarter kilometres of it.  There might not be too many trains but they are invariably very long and travel slowly.  We waited for quite a while for this one to go by.  They stack ‘em high too.

 

 

Speaking of trains, we stopped off at Quorn (no not the knitted mushroom vegetarian food but the town).  The Pichi Richi Railway runs steam trains on part of the old Ghan railway line built in 1879.  Quorn was a major junction.  We rode it almost 40 kilometres to Woolshed Flats, nothing more than a halt that was built to take away fleeces that were shorn from the sheep in a shed alongside the railway line.  Some challenging engineering enabled the line to be built.  The scenery was as spectacular as the steep cuttings, winding narrow gauge track, mountain gorges and many trestle bridges. 

 

 

 

Northward again and we entered the Flinders Ranges National Park just north of the town of Hawker.  The road climbed upward, tarmac all the way much to our surprise, until we reached Wilpena Pound.  So named because the rock formation creates a natural boundary with just a single point of entry.  It’s big.  We were told that Ayers Rock would fit into it some eight times.  At one time 120,000 sheep were farmed there but that number quickly destroyed the vegetation and extremes of weather more or less destroyed the entry point. 

Seen from space, it looks like this.

 

 

Following the ranger’s recommendation, we walked to the centre of the Pound but decided that it was a bit of a disappointment as all we could see were trees.  Still, it was a nice walk.  We back tracked and climbed to the top of one of the peaks where we could see into the bowl and where the air was fresh. 

 

 

 

Don’t be fooled by the blasé poses.  We’d trekked about 10 kilometres during the day and were hot and sticky by the time we made it back to camp, a situation resolved by cold shandies and hot showers.

That night we had a visitor.  With no rain in the area for over three months, food is scarce and the local population of kangaroos have taken to scrounging what they can from the campers.

 

 

After two days at Wilpena, we moved on.  Stopping a few kms out of town where the tarmac runs out, we lowered the pressure in our tyres and set off on dirt, the first real outback road that we’d encountered on this trip.  Traffic was almost non-existent, the surface was good; hard, not many ruts or corrugations and only periodic patches of loose stones to negotiate.  Mostly we rolled along about 80kph, dropping to 60 on the bends.  Vin Rouge, being such a short vehicle, has little directional stability on loose surfaces and care must be taken to avoid sliding on the bends.

 

 

Then we encountered the Bunyeroo and Brochina Gorges.  Speed dropped to 30k or so, but the scenery was so magnificent, we stopped regularly for a proper look.  VR was quite dwarfed by the rocky mountain sides.

 

 

 

A ranger who was passing told us of a rare yellow footed rock wallaby in a small cave and we managed to spot the little chap high up.  How he got there we don’t know, but he is a rock wallaby so I guess that explains it.

Lunchtime was approaching as we passed out of the gorge and a stop at Parachilna was called for to check out their ‘feral menu’.  Kim had a kangaroo cutlet whilst I enjoyed the kangaroo pie.  Then on to Leigh Creek, the last place to top up with fuel and water before hitting the Oodnadatta Track.

 

 

More Vin Rouge and more Land Rovers

We so enjoyed our visit to Penfolds at Nuriootpa, which I briefly described in our last blog, it seemed appropriate to make a second visit.  On Saturday morning (20 April if you’re keeping a check) we arrived at their seat of operations in the town of Magill in South Australia.

In 1844, when he emigrated from Sussex in the UK to Australia, Doctor Christopher Rawson Penfold brought some vine cuttings with him.  These he planted and in due course made wine for the medical properties it gave his patients.  Sadly he died aged 59; it is rumoured because he did not take sufficient of his own medicine.  His wife Mary, an astute woman, developed the wine making business which became successful under her management.  Penfolds now claim to be one of the world’s best wine makers. 

 

 

We joined a tour around the winery, taking in the fermentation vats, cask and bottle cellars; and very informative, interesting and enjoyable it was too.  Sampling at the end of the tour was likewise informative, interesting and enjoyable. 

 

 

Not that we could even contemplate the top of the range wines.  If they were for sale, these three bottles would cost in excess of $2,000 – each!  Ah well, it doesn’t cost anything to dream and we can still enjoy the so called ‘lesser’ wines.  My request to be locked into the cellar was unfortunately turned down.

A fairly quick back-track took us to Adelaide.  After setting up camp we took the bus into the city and visited the National Wine Centre.  The building is said to resemble a barrel and houses permanent exhibits on viniculture and wines.  We weren’t totally impressed and left with the impression that both the building and its contents rather lacked substance.

 

 

The Botanical Gardens, however, were a delight.  Elegantly laid out with wonderfully inventive displays, we were particularly taken with the rose garden’s specimens from all over the world.  The Palm House too we found very elegant with strong Victorian influences carried through to modern times.

 

 

 

There’s not a lot to say about Adelaide.  It’s a nice enough city, much like many other cities.  We did have a very tasty Vietnamese meal followed by a bit of an adventure getting back to the camp site.  The bus driver didn’t speak English and we got off a long way away from our intended destination.  Still it was a nice night for a walk. 

That night it rained and so next morning we packed up a very wet tent and set forth north in search of better weather.  At first we passed through vineyards, hundreds of them, until at last the scenery gradually changed.  Fields became much larger and the crop changed to wheat, at least the stubble that remained after the wheat had been harvested.  We also passed a lot of grain storage facilities, many with silos and some using vast plastic covered areas that looked like football pitches with low roofs.

 

 

Mile after mile went by (OK, kilometre after kilometre if you prefer) with no real change in the scenery.  That’s typical Australia of course.  Finding a camp site in a small town that rejoices in the name of Crystal Brook, we set up in the rain but fortunately found a brand new camp kitchen in which we prepared our evening meal.  Such little luxuries stand out as being special when on the road.  That night we were visited by dozens of moths.  Nothing too special in that but these were whopping great things, some over three inches long, all trying to get at the light. 

 

 

Monday morning and a new week.  A watery sun peeped through the high cloud as we set off towards the Flinders Range.  With quick succession we passed through old railway town of Gladstone, known for having three gauges of railway; Jamestown, the birthplace of R M Williams famed maker of bush clothing, and Orroroo with a huge 500 year old gum tree.  All very interesting but . . . .

We stopped at Magnetic Hill, or rather we didn’t stop for long.  Magnetic Hill has the peculiar characteristic of making it appear that vehicles roll up hill.  We tried it and sure enough Vin Rouge dutifully rolled up hill.  We even checked the spirit level mounted on the front wing and that confirmed it –it definitely was up hill.  It was all very strange.

 

 

The next small town on the route was Wilmington which held no special attraction for us.  That is, until we saw a line up of Land Rovers outside the Toy Museum.  Well, of course we stopped and before long were in deep conversation with David Christie the owner and his son, the proud owner of a Defender 100.  Now I’m not going into the details of this, but suffice it to say that a Range Rover got converted.

 

 

David is a Land Rover enthusiast.  He has over fifty of them in various states of repair.  The earliest dates back to 1949 and there are examples of all models until the present day.  Every one of them is, as Kim puts it “a proper Land Rover” (Series 1, 2, 3, Defender and military variations).  In addition to the real ones there are half scale and smaller models and the largest collection of toy Land Rovers in Australia.  Naturally I was in seventh heaven and we stayed quite a time with David enthusing about his collections and latest renovation projects.  I do have to add that it did also prove difficult to get Kim out of the toy museum and she did not hold back during the discussions.

 

 

 

Finally we regretfully said goodbye but not before a few more photographs had been taken.

 

 

And so we arrived at Spears Creek, a camp site in the foothills of the Flinders.  It was a beautiful spot and we watched the sun go down on a really great day.

 

 

Now started a change in our adventures.  We’d travelled only a few hundred kilometres north and already there were some significant changes.  We’d passed the stone marker identifying the Goyders Line, said to be the limit for safe agricultural development. 

 

 

We were entering the outback.  Some careful thought brought us to Port Augusta, the last sort of major town where we stocked up on food, water, fuel and wine (you can’t be too careful!).  Heavily laden with Vin Rouge swaying horribly on the bends, we progressed to the tiny town of Quorn (look it up on the map you lazy whatsit) where I’ll stop writing and enjoy a slightly warmer and dry evening before turning in.  And tomorrow?  Well, wait and see.

Postscript:  ‘Tomorrow’ might be a few days before it gets posted.  Mobile phone signals are few and far between in the outback.  This has been posted from a town called Hawker (pop 800) and we’re heading north towards Lake Eyre.  More posts when we get another signal.

 

Vin Rouge and Vin Rouge

McLaren Vale is known for its Australian wine.  Strangely it’s not very far from the suburban streets of Adelaide, although these do seem to go on for miles, with car showrooms, supermarkets and shops closing in on either side.  Then suddenly, as a hill is climbed, there are vineyards by the acre.  Relieved at shaking off the town, we stopped at Hardys cellar door to check out their history and to imbibe a sample or two of their mid-range offerings.  Fortunately we were the only visitors and there was plenty of time for a chat and a taster, and another chat and another taster, etc.

I was quite happy checking out samples of the various quality wines.  Kim was delighted with their garden and found some very fragrant roses in addition to their very fragrant sparkling Shiraz. 

Kim has prepared a lot of meals on our little two burner and grill cooker and as it was a particularly cold night, for a change we adjourned to a restaurant where we tucked in to a most pleasant meal and a bottle of the local pinot grigio.

Vin Rouge has clocked up nearly 10,000 kilometres since leaving Brisbane, much of it climbing and descending hills and mountains, and being heavily loaded decided it was time to complain - again.  Some disturbing grinding noises emanated from under the bonnet and so we were obliged to return to the suburbs of Adelaide to Triumph Rover Spares.  Arriving about ten in the morning, right in the middle of their morning coffee break (sorry guys), our Land Rover was whisked away and the faults diagnosed.  A free loan car materialised and we were able to spend a few hours in the seaside town of Glenelg whilst all was sorted out.  Vin Rouge now sports a shiny new water pump, alternator and a rather large aluminium casting on the front of the engine.  In addition, both rear axle seals were replaced.  Hopefully all will now be well.  I know this is might be considered a plug, but we cannot speak highly enough of the friendly and extremely helpful people at Triumph Rover Spares.  Maybe it’s one of those Land Rover things, but we came away feeling that we’d been treated like royalty.  Thanks, we really appreciate it.

Now a pleasant seaside town, it was in Glenelg that Governor Hindmarsh announced the establishment of the Victorian government in December 1836.  We spent a fascinating couple of hours in the Discovery Centre where history was presented in novel and interactive ways, including some of the old ‘end of the pier’ slot machines. 

Next morning, at Kim’s insistence, we visited the Haigh’s chocolate factory where chocolates are mainly made by hand.  Now I’m not a lover of chocolate but must say that the bitter dark variety was really good.  I even ate two pieces!

Passing by hundreds of vineyards, mostly with names that were unknown to either of us, we came to the town of Hahndorf which was settled by German Lutherans and is the oldest settlement of its type in Australia.  Unfortunately it’s become very much a tourist spot complete with ‘German’ curry and fish and chips.  The obligatory bratwurst butcher, a shop selling quasi-German puppets and another making genuine ‘German’ candles made the whole place rather nauseating – at least as far as I was concerned.  So we pushed on, first to the Beerenburg jam factory (lovely aromas) and then to see the world’s largest rocking horse – complete with lightning conductors. 

Overnight we camped at the very small Williamstown camp site.  It was cold with a nasty wind chill and so we took refuge in the camp kitchen which thankfully was fully enclosed.  Next morning we experienced a veritable queue of people asking about our ‘rig’ (this happens all the time) and by the time we’d answered all their questions it was quite late when we left to check out the delights of the Barossa Valley.

South Australia, unlike Queensland which has only hot and very hot, has all four seasons and we delighted in the autumn colours of the trees and fields.

Now the Barossa is famous worldwide for its red wines and so Vin Rouge was quite at home.  Strangely, our first stop was to the ‘Whispering Wall’, the Barossa Reservoir dam.  Completed in 1902, it was one of the earliest dams in Australia.  It has surprising acoustics.  Anyone talking at one end of the wall can be heard clearly at the other.  We wondered if the workers comments about their bosses were unintentionally overheard at the time of building.

After all that talking it was time to visit some of the wine producers at their as various Chateaux.  We were amused to see the French term used, even though many of the producers have a German heritage.  Like quite a few others, Chateau Tanunda dates back to the early 1800s. Its buildings have that Victorian elegance and the grounds have matured into magnificent gardens complete with a croquet lawn. 

Next day, with perseverance, we managed to visit the Wolf Blass, Penfolds and Seppelt wineries, fit in a side trip to Angaston Dried Fruit and still have time for a spot of lunch at Maggie Beer’s Farm.  It’s hard work enjoying yourself!

Certainly a highlight was the Penfolds visit.  We do like their wines and although the top-of-the-range ‘Grange’ bottles are a long way out of our league we were able to try some of their mid range Shiraz and drool over the displays.

An Australian secret is something that used to be called Seppelt Para Liqueur Port.  Nowadays of course, the term ‘port’ can’t be used and so it’s called ‘tawny’.  We were introduced to Para many years ago and would bring back a bottle from any trip down under.  Since moving here we’ve not been able to find the familiar club-shaped bottle and enquiries led nowhere.  Today though, we heard the full story and now know how to find it. Para is not in old the club-shaped bottle any more and a new name has been assigned.  But we did manage to acquire one of the last of the old bottles which will be kept under lock and key for a while yet.  That’s all we’re saying, apart from the sad news that it’s not available in the UK.  For a sample, you’ll just have to pay us a visit.

During the 1930s depression, the town of Seppeltsfield kept its people in employment planting date palms.  The town now has avenues of these and very pleasing they are to the eye.  How’s this for the road leading out of town?  We’re still not sure what they do with all the dates though.

This seems to be a good place to stop rambling.  A glass of Shiraz in one hand, the bottle nearby to top up on demand.  Cheers all.

Travelling

The Grampians National Park is not particularly large but it does boast some spectacular scenery and waterfalls.  However, it’s so contrived that not too much of it can be seen from the road.  It’s necessary to walk.

It’s a bit of a trek to The Pinnacles, about 5 kms round trip.  That didn’t sound too arduous but local advice suggested it would take at least two and a half hours.  Boots on, water and nut bars stashed we set off.  The route took us through two places of interest, the Grand Canyon and Silent Street.  Grand Canyon was perhaps not as large as its namesake but it was certainly rugged and very picturesque. 

We spotted some rock climbers scaling one of the cliff faces.  We thought the route we took was fairly tough but our perspective changed when we saw all their ropes, climbing boots and hard hats.  And the lad at the end of the rope couldn't have been more than about ten years old!  In the picture he’s half way up if you look closely, and we assumed that’s his mum at the top of the rope.

Walking changed to more of a scramble.  A sort of path had been built from rocks to provide a series of steps and paths to clamber over. 

Silent Street is a rock strewn gully through which we scrambled until we reached an open area at the top.  Why it’s called Silent Street we don’t know.  It wasn't silent as we went through – it should have been called Wheezing Street.

With a couple of rest stops and quite a bit of puffing we finally made it to the top which is known as the Pinnacle.  The views made it all worthwhile.  Here’s a sample.

Then we had to scramble down again.  Yes, the locals were right.  It did take exactly two and a half hours.

An hour of driving took us to Silverband Falls.  We decided that they were not too impressive as there was very little water, more like a leaking tap actually.  At least we didn't have to walk too far, just a couple of kilometres on even ground.  Still, old age was taking its toll and I reverted to my usual remedy of spraying his knees with WD40.  Kim still laughs at me but I swear the treatment works.  We camped in the forest and slept to the sound of silence.

The next day (Thursday 12 April if you must know) we were off again.  This time we climbed down something over a hundred metres to the foot of the McKenzie Falls.  And what a sight greeted us at the bottom.  Although not a lot of water was flowing, the falls were quite beautiful.

All we then had to do was to climb back up to the top.  Not deterred by all this exercise we moved on to Reid’s Lookout for a bit more walking and another view, and then to The Balconies for perhaps the most spectacular view yet – BTW that’s the terrain, not Mike standing on a rock.

OK, enough of all this strenuous stuff.  It’s time for some relaxation; well almost.  We ended the day in the small town of Dimboola which was the only camp site we could find in the vicinity.  What we didn't know was that it had been severely criticised as being one of the worst around.  We struck lucky.  A new manager had taken over just three weeks earlier and he was really cracking on with improvements.  New showers, constantly running sprinklers that had already made the grass grow, and a genuinely warm welcome made us feel at home.  We slept well too.

Next morning and we took a walk through Dimboola town, although ‘town’ is really an optimistic term given its size.  Kim reckoned it was a suitable place for Mike.

Just up the road is a salt lake that in certain light appears pink.  Salt concentrated from ancient seas that evaporated millennia ago form a crust on which grows algae that turns it pink.  It’s a strange sight that looks better in reality than in the photo.

Travelling roughly easterly, we passed through the town of Nhill - no we don’t how it’s pronounced but it’s the last town in the State of Victoria - and crossed the border into South Australia.  Dire threats and warnings had been made about the heinous crime of taking in fruit and vegetables and so we had minimised our purchases and disposed of the ‘lemon of mass destruction’ and our ‘broccoli spears’.  Disappointment all round resulted as we could find no trace of a sign marking the border and only a small, rather battered notice indicating an old dustbin into which offending items were supposed to be deposited.  However, we felt that we’d complied with the requirements and drove into Bordertown to replenish supplies.  Being Saturday afternoon, the shops were closed so we dined from tins and took a look at Bob Hawke’s (Prime Minister from 1983 to 1990) childhood home and also found a Land Rover on a pole.

Apparently Land Rovers were used to clear the area so that crops could be grown.  This was achieved by fixing ships anchor chains to the vehicles and grubbing out the scrub.  So impressed were the local dignitaries that a tribute to the iconic vehicle was erected.

Next morning, a short drive past numerous olive groves to Goolwa where we continued our avoidance of walking by taking the steam train to Victor Harbour . . . .

. . . . and a horse drawn tram to Granite Island.

Monday 15^th April, a new week and Sarah’s birthday.  We set out for the wine growing area of McLaren Vale.  But more of that next time.