Nothing like an impending return to normality (or is that banality?), to focus the mind. Easing back in my camp chair with a good Scotch and a George Benson/Earl Klugh live concert in the background, I wondered at how far we had strayed along that road less traveled. And more to the point, IS there a point in the future where we turn back, or do we just keep going? We’ll be back in Melbourne soon for two months. I guess we’ll see how well (or not) we can re-acclimatize.
We stayed one night at a caravan park in Whyalla to sit out the predicted storm, and the next morning, the skies had started to clear. Google Maps had shown us a road that skirted the shores of the Spencer Gulf all the way to Port Augusta, so we set off to Point Bonython, with a plan to overnight somewhere after that.
Port Bonython is an off-shoot export terminal and gas storage port, so nothing much to see here. Point Lowly is literally just down the road, and is rescued as an destination, by the most photographed lighthouse in Australia (according to locals). Extensive restoration work was being carried out on the colonial light keepers residence, so yes, the lighthouse WAS the only lenses distraction.
I did have an easier way of getting to Douglas Point and maybe, when I saw the sign Coast Road Emergency Access Track, I would have thought twice, but I was starting to get restless (or is that reckless?) After the Spencer Gulf, it was back to suburbia and I didn’t want to see it any sooner then I had to. I will say one thing – Tamika has become mercifully sanguine about our “off road” diversions. As I wrestle with the road, weaving to avoid the ruts and potholes, shifting in and out of 4WD, all the while dripping with adrenaline, she sits quietly with her head in the phone. I’m not sure whether it’s implicit trust or explicit fatalism. Anyway, I had the gulf on my right shoulder and although slow and bumpy, it was true adventure.
There were numerous campsites along the road, and just south of Douglas Point, we found one that was wide, flat and on the beach. Our last multi-night free camp, our last camp oven banquet and our last chance to catch and NOT release. We were STILL carrying around most of our wood, so we cut loose over those two nights, a large bed of coals keeping us toasty warm well into the evening.
Tamika went fishing the next afternoon and caught a bag of whiting on the incoming tide, enough for a delicious Thai fish curry. She was starting to feel that her previous triumphs had been mere flukes but after her ten haul catch, SHE’S BACK IN THE GAME!! A certain wistfulness joined our little campfire on the last night. We had only one more official stop to make before our run back to Melbourne. Our respective dance cards were filling up rapidly, so, not a lot of time for gnashing of teeth and impatient floor pacing I’m guessing.
It looked like a straight forward run to Port Augusta from here, but good old Google Maps had one last surprise for us.
