If we wanted snow we could have stayed in Scotland!

We have been cold, we have had wind and we have had rain …… surely things couldn’t get any worse? At least that is what we hoped. However a glance at the first photo tells a different story. Yes that is a snowball Sandra is making and the old dustbin lid improvised as a toboggan.

After three glorious days at Mt Samaria my navigator decided that we should “do” The Great Alpine Road. After breakfast and a trip to a craft shop in Mansfield we set off north through the King Valley area and picked up the GAR at Myrtleford. We were no sooner on the road when the navigator decided that Mount Buffalo seemed a likely port of call so we set off from the picturesque little village of Porepunkah on what was to be over 30k of climbing, twisting roads the last stretch of which was a dirt track – but it was worth it. The countryside was magnificent and the views were staggering. A series of waterfalls, including the very attractive Ladies Bath Falls, cascaded down the mountainside. This is where gentle womenfolk would take refuge from the summer heat and bathe in the cool mountain water. Despite my promising not to take any compromising photos Sandra was not impressed with my suggestion that she did likewise!

Knowing how cold the nights can be at even reasonable altitudes we were reluctant to camp overnight in the mountains and, on descending Mt Buffalo, we were faced with either an early stop on the north side of The Great Dividing Range or to press on. Unusually for us we decided to stop – a good choice as otherwise I would not have found the Bright Brewery.

The neat wee town of Bright is unashamedly a tourist town offering a wide range of outdoor activities including skiing, snow boarding, mountain biking, paragliding, hill walking etc. etc. With no bush camping available in the area and with the Dirty Washing Bag full to overflowing we checked into one of the several commercial campsites in the town. Our site was pretty idyllic with a grassy surface for the tent, the river literally feet away, three ducks looking for company and a launderette for Sandra to get the washing up to date - what more could a man ask for? Well how about a brewery.

Apart from the weather, Australia’s other problem is the beer – served icy cold most of the commercial brands hit the spot on a hot day but after a few there is something lacking – and that is taste. To fill this void in the market a growing number of small, independent breweries are starting to produce hand-crafted beers which actually tastes of beer. The Bright Brewery was established a few years ago by a couple of guys who initially came for the skiing, started a homebrew club and then decided to start brewing commercially. They produce seven beers – Bright Lager, Hellfire Amber Ale (that's what I'm holding in the photo) Blowhard Pale Ale, Razor Witbier, Staircase Porter, Fainters Dubbel (a Belgian style ale at 8.5%) and a Stout. After a personal tour of the brewery with Tim I was able to try all seven – and very good they were as well (apart from the Witbier!) To allow for my alcoholic indulgence, or at least for it to wear off, we had to stay in Bright for an extra day.

Then we were ready to tackle the mountains.

Over the past few weeks Sandra and I have taken particular interest in the weather forecast for Victoria and one place that has stood out above all others as somewhere to avoid – the ironically named Mt. Hotham. When most of Victoria was basking in the low 20’s Mt Hotham never made it into the 20’s and at night even recorded a temperature of –1C. The road to Mt Hotham was long and inextricably upwards with spectacular views over the Victorian Alps – and the remains of the winter snowfields where we, briefly, frolicked in the snow.

A quick descent from the snowy wastes and we decided to give the coast another try. Driving south past Omeo, Bruthen then on to Orbost along the Princes Highway we have ended up at the Cape Conran Coastal Park on a shady campsite just a few yards from the beach. We will probably stay here for a couple of days then on to who knows where?

Finally a few titbits from the “Isn’t it a small world” file.

1. The barman in the Bright Brewery recognised my accent and announced that he too was from Scotland and came from a place I had probably never heard of called Inverurie. Mentioning that I knew Inverurie quite well he said he actually came from the small village of Insch!

2. Stopping at the tourist information office in Orbost to get a map of the area and ask about camping the man in the office, again recognising the accent, asked where we were from. We usually answer Edinburgh to this question to which he replied “You don’t happen to know Dalkeith by any chance – that’s where my wife is from”

3. Sandra bought an ornament in a shop in Bright and was staggered to find that it was imported, not from China like almost everything else in Australia, but from Peebles just down the road from where we live in Scotland!

PS Thanks to those who posted a comment - it does seem the software was working properly - it was just those lazy people out there not bothering to communicate!!!!

From Wet Misery at Kurth Kiln to Glorious Mount Samaria

After two nights and days sheltering from the rain in the sodden forests of Kurth Kiln we decided to make a run for it. Having got an internet connection in the small, attractive (well it would have been if the sun was shining) village of Gembrook, I got a weather forecast. A band of wet and stormy weather stretched from Darwin right down through Australia to Victoria – which was getting the worst of it and of course where we were camped. This band of weather was moving eastwards, we wouldn’t be able to outrun it so we decided to sneak in behind it as it moved towards the coast. We packed up in the wet and fled towards dry weather not unhappy to leave our Kurth Kiln campsite behind us (see first photo)

Kurth Kiln however had an interesting history – the Kiln in question was named after Professor Kurth who, in the early 1940’s during wartime petrol rationing, developed a process that could make cars run on charcoal (I jest not) A large charcoal burner, weighing up to 200kg, was attached to the back of a car (see photo) When charcoal was burned it produced carbon monoxide which, when cooled, filtered then mixed with air would explode thus running the internal combustion engine. The car was started on petrol then switched to charcoal. Kurth Kiln was the site where trees from the surrounding forests were converted to charcoal for this process – the kiln has been restored and there are some rusting examples of the charcoal burning engines. Around 58,000 cars were converted in this way. One problem was knowing when to re-fuel i.e. when to tip some more charcoal into the burner. The only way to do this was to open the top of the burner and have a look, a dangerous task as, with the addition of more air, there was frequently a small explosion. It was apparently said that you could always spot the driver of one of these converted vehicles as they usually had no eyebrows or other facial hair!

Heading northwards we stopped at Healesville for brunch then aimed for the small village of Eildon in the Eildon National park. The park itself was beautiful with high mountain tracks through forests with magnificent views over the mountains and Lake Eildon – but we decided not to stay. Leaving Eildon we headed further north on the Maroondah Highway passing the Strathbogie Ranges (where Ned Kelly and his Gang were known to hide out) then stopping briefly at Bonnie Doon for a quick reality check – it really was called Bonnie Doon! And, being on the northern shores of Lake Eildon, there were even a few Banks and Braes.

By this time the miracle had occurred – the rain had stopped and the sun had emerged.

Arriving at Mount Samaria State Park near the small town of Mansfield we set about looking for somewhere to camp. Following a dirt road for a few kilometres then crossing a swollen creek, we found a likely looking track disappearing into the forest. However, after a few k, we decided the area was none too attractive and the track was starting to disappear so a U-turn was required. Bad move, or at least a bad place to do a U-y, I hadn’t noticed the big hole! There we were again with the front of the car on its axles down a hole with the rear pointing to the heavens - thank goodness for four wheel drive. Locking the hubs and engaging low ratio I eventually managed to ease us out of the hole – throughout all this Sandra kept on knitting without even dropping a stitch!

Backtracking – literally – we found an open, grassy glade at the edge of the forest beside a creek. With the sun still shining the place was idyllic and Sandra, upon whom the travelling and bad weather was taking its toll, decided this was the place to stop for a few days. So we set up a full camp including her studio tent (which doubles as a formal dining room in the evenings) and, three days later, we are still here. Sandra has been finishing off her craft stuff to sell at the Christmas markets in Sydney including two new product lines – wire bracelets and wire butterflies.

PS There have been no comments on the blog for several weeks. This of course could be that no one has bothered to get in touch - or it could be I need to do something to the software. Could someone out there please drop a comment to test the system. Thanks.

Grampian Mountains to Melbourne. Living with Ferals and Leeches.

[Sorry - trying out some new photo software and haven't cracked it! Batteriy about to go and don't have time to play around with it - so I think the photos will be at the end}

Australia – a land of false dawns and broken promises – at least as far as the weather is concerned!

The Grampian Mountains and our camp at Troopers Creek were beautiful – as was the weather, warm with blue skies and NO rain. Sandra decided to have a rest day i.e. instead of driving she spent the day in camp finishing off the wire butterflies she has been experimenting with, whilst I got happily lost driving the network of 4WD tracks that criss-crossed the mountains. The following day we explored a landscape of dramatic mountain vistas dotted with lakes and waterfalls – we could have been at home in the “real” Grampian Mountains! We then headed south again through Dunkeld, crossing the Glenelg Highway and hitting the coast at Warrnambool – the largest place we had encountered since leaving Adelaide. After re-fuelling and re-provisioning we set off one what is billed as one of the world’s great road trips – The Great Ocean Road - but first we needed a place to camp for the night.



We usually camped in the national parks but with nothing suitable along that bit of coast and wild bush camping not really available, we looked for a commercial site. The coastal scenery of The Bay of Islands Coastal Park was absolutely stunning in the late afternoon sunlight and our search for a campsite was continually hampered by yet another must see viewpoint – so it was late on in the day that we rolled into the small coastal village Peterborough. With the sun setting we sat outside the tent in the evening warmth with a glass or two of red wine – perfect. With less than a month left of our trip and our weather experiences so far being variable to wet – here was hoping that the last few weeks would be of the warm, dry, blue skies variety.



Peterborough lies on “The Shipwreck Coast” – for obvious reasons as the seas and coastline in this part of the world are treacherous and there are various plaques commemorating 19th century maritime tragedies. Interestingly many of the ships were built in Scotland and at least two of the plaques told of cargoes of alcohol being “rescued” from the waves by thirsty locals and constables being stationed on the beach to stop pilfering. The original stories upon which Compton McKenzie based “Whisky Galore” perhaps?



The next day was to be the highlights of The Great Ocean Road – natural rock formations along the coast caused by erosion including The Grotto, London Bridge, The Arch, Sentinel Rock, Loch Ard Gorge and, most famous and iconic of all, The Twelve Apostles.



Like many Australian icons including The Opera House, The Harbour Bridge, Ayres Rock, The Olgas, The Devils Marbles, Ningaloo Reef, The Flinders etc. etc. they are most frequently viewed and photographed in the sun with a backdrop of unblemished blue sky. It is only the most fortunate of tourists who manage to get photographs of these Great Australian Icons in the rain – and once again we were very fortunate and were able to add The Twelve Apostles to our long list of wet icons!



The hope of fine weather proved to be yet another false dawn and the morning skies in Peterborough were grey and blustery with a promise of rain to come – a promise kept to the full – and thus we did the Great Ocean Road wrapped in fleeces and Goretex. None-the-less the natural features of the coastal landscape were very impressive as we queued up with bus loads of Japanese/Chinese/ tourists to take our snaps. Sandra had a problem counting 12 Apostles and, amidst rumours that one of them had fallen down, I maintained they were still all there but several couldn’t be seen as they were lurking in the mist!



Sandra and I saw the Apostles separately as she marched off in the lead and assumed that I would follow. However, as I was about to follow, I was accosted in the carpark by two young(ish) girls who asked if I had a wire coathanger - a “locked-keys-in-car” scenario I thought, and so it proved. Being short of coathangers I improvised using a tent peg and an axe, managed to break into the car and, after being thanking me in the customary manner, they were on their way. I hope it actually was their car – Sandra of course didn’t believe a word of the story.



Thinking about where to camp for the night we headed inland hoping to get away from the rain - bad move. As we went up into the hills it got worse, so evening saw us back at the coast at the bottom end of the Great Otway National Park camped by the beach at Blanket Bay. A brief glimpse of late evening sun, a walk along the very attractive beach with a glass of wine and suddenly things didn’t seem too bad. It was here that Sandra had one of her biggest thrills of the trip so far – sitting outside the tent in the failing light she suddenly shrieked – a face was looking at her from a tree. Closer inspection showed it was two faces – a mother Koala and her baby, just feet away – our first Koalas in the wild.



Next morning it was cloudy and wet again, the beach didn’t seem so attractive, the Koalas had disappeared, so we packed up and left to make our way to Melbourne (although we didn’t get there)



We gave the rest of the G.O.Road a miss and, just after Apollo Bay, turned inland into the Otway Ranges and some very attractive countryside. Shortly after this I realised that once again I had been duped as, by some incredible coincidence, we found ourselves at Birregurra where there just happened to be a world famous wool producer who just happened to have a retail outlet which Sandra just happened to want to visit. However there is a God – it was Thursday, the one day of the week the shop was closed. She decided to have a look anyway and it was at this point that it was confirmed that there was a God – but he wasn’t on my side. Down a long, windy track we found the farm and, as Sandra was peering longingly through the barn window, the farmer appeared on the scene and, upon finding we were from Scotland (his wife is from Galashiels) he opened the place up specially for Sandra – who of course felt obliged to spend a small fortune on wool.



Laden down with wool we headed for Geelong (where I seem to remember Prince Charles went to school for a term or so but we missed the plaque) and had lunch in the very trendy Lambys Restaurant – part of the Wool Museum complex – wool seems to be quite prominent in this part of the world. A wander down the modern, attractive seafront development with its bigger that lifesize figures (including a sailor with a couple of floozies and some decidedly gay life guards) then north to The Brisbane Ranges National Park – a park where the Koalas are so thick on the ground you have to step over them to get to your tent – allegedly!



I am typing this next morning in the Boar Gully campsite in Brisbane Ranges NP – not a Koala in sight; the frogs have chorused all night sounding like a band of demented banjo players; the skies are grey; the wind is getting up; it has started to rain – but, as Sandra has just commented, “At least it’s not too cold” Such is life on the road in Australia.



PS Written about 12 hours later.



We spent the day in Melbourne with Sandra going round wool and thread shops in a trendy/crafty area of the city. I hung around trying not to look too bored – obviously unsuccessfully as a shop owner commented to Sandra “Is he yours?” the implication being I was scaring away paying customers. Sandra spent a small fortune on wool and other assorted nonsense, whilst I incurred a small fortune when I discovered that, although I had paid $13 for a parking ticket, I had inadvertently parked in a loading zone and got a $119 fine – $132 (about £80) down the drain - I was none too happy!



With the journey out of Melbourne during the rush hour taking the best part of two hours then getting lost in a national park looking for a campsite (and not finding one) taking us almost to sunset, things were not looking too good. Eventually finding somewhere to set up house in the Kurth Kiln State Park, we had no sooner put the tent up when there was a flash of lightning, a peal of thunder then the heavens opened and the torrents of rain were upon us. This was the last straw - after so much rain over the last few weeks (months?) I was just about ready to pack in and go home - but as Sandra said, putting on her most optimistic voice “Well at least it’s still warm - and I do like a good thunderstorm” – so I’ll probably just stick it out.

PPS Another day later.
Still raining. Holed up in a forest with a bunch of "ferals" who were digging trenches to try to keep the water out of their living accommodation. Rain let up for a bit around noon so we went for a walk in the forest. Sandra thought she was being bitten by mosquitos but when she looked down she saw he legs were covered with small slimey things - leeches! That wouldn't have been so bad but she then pointed out they were also all over me. This led to a happy 15min leech picking session before they managed to squirm anywhere more intimate!

I have been sent to look for an internet connection to firstly post this blog and, more importantly, to get a weather forecast. We will go anywhere it isn't raining - this of course may require an early exit from Australia - a country of neverending rain - at least everywhere we go. 'm not paranoid - the rain is really after us!!!!!!

 

Adelaide to Victoria and The Megafauna

Innes National Park, whilst unremarkable on the landward side, had a fabulous coastline – lots of small bays with rocky headlands sheltering small sandy beaches and all visitorless – except for us. Unfortunately neither air nor water temperature made swimming an attractive proposition – infact our swimmers haven’t seen light of day since we left Nanga – thousands of miles to the north.

Innes National Park did have one fascinating attraction – Inneston. The site of a gypsum mine in the early 20th century, Inneston went into terminal decline at the time of the Depression when the bottom fell out of the gypsum market. With many of the houses constructed from stone they have survived and some have been restored. Most of the workers houses have long gone and what remain were probably occupied by foremen and junior managers. However, perched on a hill overlooking the lower order houses, the mine workings and the lake, were The Engineers House and The Managers House from where the Innes family ruled over their domain. These were renovated 15 years ago as part of a youth training programme with the local college – both can be rented and would be excellent for a group of like minded people wanting to make a noisy week-end of it (Cue for the Kenmore Club’s visit to Australia!)

Next day – off to Adelaide.

The journey from the bottom of the Yorke Peninsula to Adelaide was uneventful although we couldn’t resist stopping at yet another “Scottish” town – this time Ardrossan which, like its Scottish namesake, is a smallish coastal town.

With not much bush camping available within the city of Adelaide we “went commercial” and set up home for three days at the Belair National Park, next to the Belair Country Club and Golf Course. It provided a green, grassy woodland site convenient for getting into the city.

Our reasons for being in Adelaide were threefold (i) to see it (ii) for me to get the car serviced and (iii) for Sandra to attend the Adelaide Craft Fair. With Sandra taxied off to her craft fair (she wouldn’t let me go with her – shame!!) and the car into a garage, I was left to wander Adelaide by myself. The central city area is very self contained being almost completely surrounded by parks and green space. The public transport system is very good and I soon found myself on the 99C – a free bus which runs in a loop around the central business district.

As with so many places in Australia the Scottish connections soon started to appear – the first of these being a very familiar statue prominently placed outside the main library (see photo). The library also housed the Don Bradman Collection for anyone interested in cricket.

Adelaide is known as “The City of Churches” – for very obvious reasons – and it was interesting to note that the “Free Church of Scotland (Presbyterian)” built in 1851 is the second oldest church remaining in the city. It is now known simply as the Scots Church and stands in very august company on the other side of North Terrace from the University, the Museum, the Library and the Casino.

My day was spoiled somewhat by a call from the garage. In addition to the service I had asked them to have a look at the air conditioning that hadn’t been working properly since my “water-skiing through mud” episode on the Oodnadatta Track. It appears that I had somehow blown a hole in the condenser which needed to be replaced – at a cost of over $800 – ouch!

Adelaide was cold. Our image of camping in Australia included being able to sit outside the tent at night having a cold beer whilst watching kangaroos cavorting in the sunset. With Sandra having taken to bed to keep warm I was left to shiver – watching my fingers turn blue and pruney with the cold. The last time I felt like this was in Esperance in the south of Western Australia and the next day we headed back north into the desert. Being a creature of habit I told Sandra I had had enough and I was abandoning the south and heading north again. This time however I met resistance – Sandra had a hidden agenda. Melbourne it appears is the craft centre of Australia – and she wasn’t going to give it a miss. Luckily for our marriage the weather next day was slightly warmer so we packed up and started the trek to Melbourne.

A few miles down the road, as we hadn’t had breakfast before leaving Adelaide, my stomach started that sort of grumble which can only be satisfied with a bacon roll – and so we found ourselves in Hanndorf.

In the first half of the 19th century a bunch of German immigrants, fleeing religious persecution in Prussia, arrived in Australia and eventually set up shop in what was to become Hanndorf – named after the captain of the ship which brought them on what had been a hazardous crossing. The town is now trading almost exclusively on its Germanic heritage and is a real tourist trap aimed at lovers of Kranski, Bratwurst and Sauerkraut. A long row of gift shops and restaurants has at its centre The Hanndorf Inn complete with piped oompah-band music. Having assuaged my hunger pangs at Otto’s Bakery we left.

On our trip I do the driving whilst Sandra acts as my, usually reasonably competent, navigator. To be fair, when in her normal state of health, she is actually very good and I can only explain her lapse as being a consequence of having been unwell for the last week. Hit with a double-whammy of cystitis and gastric problems she has not been firing on all cylinders and her map reading skills were not 100%. I really blame myself as, knowing she wasn’t herself, I should have checked before setting off to the Younghusband Peninsula as our route south.

The Younghusband Peninsula is part of Coorong National Park and is a thin strip of land running in a southeastery direction for about 160k with the Southern Ocean on one side and a lagoon, The Coorong, on the other. Sandra’s plan was to drive the length of this peninsula camping on the way – all good, exciting stuff. I did query how we actually got onto the Peninsula from the north and whether there was actually a road as it seemed to be a chain of islands. No problem said Sandra they are all linked by barrages and you can drive across them.

Arriving after a long and boring trip at Goolwa, the last mainland town before the islands, I thought a trip to the information office would be a good idea to check on local road conditions – and it’s a good job I did or our back-track would have been even further. When I said I was travelling south, the not very helpful man on duty said “South? You’ll be heading into the ocean – you’ll need a boat” Redefining my direction as south east he was no more helpful “You’ll still need a boat – there’s no roads”
Sandra’s experiences of barrages are in the Orkney Islands in Scotland where a number of islands were joined by barrages during the war. Known as the Churchhill Barriers, as well as providing a defence against sea attack, they also provided roads linking the islands. With the south coast of Australia unthreatened by the might of the Third Reich it was not felt necessary to install drivable barrages as part of the road network – so we had to re-trace our steps thus adding several hours to our journey!

Passing through interesting named places such as Magrath Flat, Policemans Point and Tilley Swamp we eventually rolled into Little Dip Conservation Park no doubt annoying the only other campers, a young couple, who probably thought they had the place to them selves for the night. We camped behind sand dunes which hid a very interesting limestone coastline absolutely riddled with caves. After a beautiful sunset, which goes unrecorded as we forgot the camera, we hit the sack only to be woken at about 3am by thunder and torrential rain – was it too late for me to head north back to the welcoming desert? Apparently yes!

We compromised by turning east to Naracoorte to visit Naracoorte Caves National Park – a World Heritage Area with a very complete mammalian fossil record dating back 500,000 years. There can be found one of Australia’s best kept secrets. In caves deep below the ground descendents of the giant megafauna that once stalked Australia’s forests can still be found. Rare examples of the Thylacoleo, Diprotodon and giant kangaroos can still be found lurking in dark subterranean recesses. Although photographing these rare creatures is strictly prohibited, Sandra managed to elude the security system for a few seconds to get some photos which she knew Harvey, Oliver and Lex would enjoy!

We crossed into Victoria, our 6th State/Territory and made for The Grampians a range of mountains after which was named the Grampians National Park. We are camped at Troopers Creek, a beautiful site with great birdlife, lots of nice walks and a fabulous view of the nearby mountains from out tent. Today the weather has been reasonably warm with no rain – is this a turn for the better?

Scottish Towns and The Lady of the Lake

The rain eased slightly and, in a short break between torrents, we ventured out to take some photos. The first shows, not the river, but the footpath near the tent (nice scenery though), the second showing that Sandra, despite trying circumstances, is still managing to keep her feet clean. Then we went exploring.

Telowie Gorge was beautiful and looked very like Scotland with a swollen mountain stream roaring through the trees - we were transported back to Glen Affric in the Highlands. A narrow path followed the stream up through the gorge which in normal circumstances i.e. the stream not in spate, would have provided very little difficulty. However, with the path crossing and re-crossing the swollen stream, advanced rock-hopping skills were required to get up into the gorge. Sandra, normally the most confident of rock-hoppers, was carrying the camera when it happened.

To fully appreciate the story the clock must be wound back several months to when we were staying on Squeaky Beach with Johann and Stretch (before we were evicted) We had recently bought a new camera to replace one that had broken and I was concerned to find Sandra cavorting afloat in our inflatable dinghy with half a dozen Aboriginal children and holding the camera. It was a recipe for disaster and, despite my asking her, several times, to get the camera back to dry land, disaster followed. Salt water and high-tech digital cameras do not mix and consequently we had to buy yet another. Since that expensive accident she has shown a slightly less cavalier attitude to looking after the camera.

On the day in question we were making our way down the gorge with me in the lead. I, with the help of my trusty stick, had just negotiated a slightly difficult traverse when, from behind me, came a scream followed by a splash. I was immediately concerned for Sandra and the new camera – not necessarily in that order. However I need not have worried – the lesson had been learned. Looking back I saw a scene reminiscent of the Lady of the Lake holding Excalibur above the water. I saw an arm stretched high above the water triumphantly holding a dry camera above the raging torrent. Below the camera was Sandra emerging from the water – drookit! Drookit, but quite proud of herself. Unfortunately I didn’t have a camera to catch the actual moment but did get one of the aftermath showing a dampish Sandra.

Luckily she had a change of clothes in the car and we were on our way again – this time to Melrose! A neat wee town nestling at the foot of a range of hills. A description that could be applied to both Melrose in Scotland and in the Flinders.

The following day we packed up a rather wet tent and headed further south to the Yorke Peninsula where we planned to spend a couple of days before going to Adelaide for Sandra to go the Craft Fair. On our way we passed through yet another town with Scottish connections, Alford, and stopped for a couple of hours at Moonta, a town not with Scottish connections but Cornish. An ex-mining town which was the destination for a large number of Cornish miners who presumably left when the tin mining industry in Cornwall took a turn for the worse. Cornish pasties were offered at numerous outlets and one shop even had a sign in what I took to be the old Cornish language (see photo) Perhaps someone with more time on their hands and interested in this type of exercise (Ron?) could do a bit of research to check the language and translation. However, even in Moonta, there was a Scottish influence – I’d assumed I had found a Scottish (as opposed to Irish) pub and went in for a pint only to find it was an antiques shop! (see photo)


We are currently camped at Shell Beach in the Innes National Park. The beach is beautiful but it is still pretty cold with occasional bursts of rain. No dramas to report although Sandra has just commented on the large number of feral bees around the place, which fits in with the warning notices in the park about bee attacks. It’s a wonderful life!

Farina to Mt Remarkable via Loch Ness - Mainly in the Rain

It’s funny how the chance sighting of a couple of words on a map can change ones travel plans. We were headed for the well-known Flinders Ranges National Park in South Australia when up from the map sprung the words - “Loch Ness”. Being from Inverness and well acquainted with the real Loch Ness, the urge to explore the Australian version was irresistible so off we detoured to the Vulkathunha-Gammon Ranges – “the last cluster of ancient mountains before the vast plains of central Australia where few travellers venture”

After the excitement of water skiing on mud towing a Toyota up the Oodnadatta Track the car, not to mention ourselves, were in a bit of a muddy mess and we decided to stay at the Farina homestead for a few days to get cleaned up and for Sandra to do more crafting. The thick, clay-like mud was several inches thick on the underside of the car and was setting hard. I spent a happy day with a knife and axe hacking at the mud whilst trying to ensure I didn’t chop through anything vital – like break pipes, electrics etc.

Farina, now just ruins, was once a thriving town built, as the name suggests, to be the centre of a developing wheat industry which unfortunately never got off the ground. In its day it was quite a place with two hotels, the Exchange and Intercontinental, shops, a post office, school, hospital, bakery (underground, restored and still looks as it could be operational) It even had its own “house of ill repute” called The Angle’s Rest, which I suspect may have been a spelling mistake for The Angel’s Rest (see photo) Australian spelling of that era was a bit hit and miss. The township is slowly being renovated by the sheep farmer whose land it is on and an enthusiastic band of conservation volunteers who periodically brave heat and flies to restore a little bit of Australian heritage. However there is still someway to go before the hotel bathroom is fit for purpose although, as can be seen from the photo, this doesn’t deter the odd vagrant from making use of the facilities!

Our campsite was very pleasant and, as we were staying for a few days, we set up a full camp including Sandra’s “studio” tent where she crafted away for a couple of days whilst avoiding the flies – then back onto the road heading south for the Flinders. Through the small town of Lyndhurst then on to Leigh Creek for a meal stop, a look at the map, the discovery of the Antipodean version of Loch Ness necessitating a route change from South to East.

Quite a reasonable dirt road took us the 60k or so into the Vulkathunha-Gammon Ranges with the only incident of note being when we spotted a black mass moving slowly across the road - going too fast to stop safely I ploughed on through it then stopped. Speaking to an opal miner in Coober Pedy he referred to the problems of the rain, the first being that it wasn’t possible to mine opals in the rain and, secondly, the rain brought “the plagues”. The first of these plagues was the flies, the second was the mosquitoes and the third, which I had just ploughed through, was locusts. The road, and either side of the road, was covered with hundreds of thousand hopping locusts as can be seen in the photo. I didn’t feel so bad about wiping out a few hundred of these when I later heard these are pests and were part of an eradication programme.

The road to Loch Ness was a 4WD track at the beginning of which was the most amazing sculpture of two traditional Aboriginal figures. It was just there, at the side of the road, with no plaque or explanation – quite unusual. The trip to Loch Ness was challenging – rocky, twisty, undulating and, perhaps most nerve-wracking of all, many blind summits where you had no idea if the track went straight ahead or did a corkscrew to the right or left – with a precipitous drop if you guessed wrongly. It was pretty remote and we didn’t see another vehicle during the trip.

After a mile or so however I discovered I had been duped by a very devious Sandra who was not really interested in Loch Ness at all but was on a quest to find a specimen of Sturt’s Desert Pea in its natural habitat. Like the Gouldian Finch for birdwatchers, Sturt’s Desert Pea is a must for wild flower enthusiasts. Although she had seen and photographed them in Alice Springs (on the a central reservation of a dual carriageway) and at Tom Price (in a car park) she had never seen one “in the wild” – and suddenly there they were in all their red and black glory. Ecstasy!

McTaggart’s Road i.e. the track we were on (I suspect some of the early explorers / settlers may have come from Scotland) led eventually to Loch Ness which, in a way, was a bit of a disappointment. The original Loch Ness is the best part of 30 miles long, about a mile wide and very deep. Its Australian counterpart is about 6 feet long, 5 feet wide and about 15 feet deep – it is a well, still with water in it – and I detect an ironic Scottish sense of humour went into its naming!

With more rain forecast we couldn’t afford to be trapped there if the road closed so we headed south towards the Flinders Ranges National Park. With light beginning to fade we decided that a stop at a roadhouse campsite with a meal and a drink in the pub would be attractive so off we went to the small town of Blinman. Whilst Blinman no doubt has many attractive features, the scruffy carpark doubling as a campsite at the back of the pub is not one of them thus, despite the failing light, we moved on and that night found us at Dingley Dell in the Flinders National Park.

The Flinders Ranges are visually stunning with fascinating geology and good information and interpretive panels and we drove down the Brachina Gorge Geological Trail and the Bunyaroo Valley. To Sandra the mountains resembled The Rockies whilst I was more inclined to think of the Cuillins in Skye particularly when the forecasted rain eventually arrived. With glowering mountains being lashed with rain under a grey and stormy sky I didn’t have to travel 12,000 miles to find this sort of scenery! We debated whether it was better to set up the tent now and sit out the rain or to drive through the rain – we decided the latter, said goodbye to Flinders National Park and set off south once again.

The distances between towns are now becoming less and we drove through Hawker and Quorn hoping for the rain to stop – it didn’t. With light failing we arrived at Mount Remarkable, a smallish National Park in the southern reaches of the Flinders Ranges. Pitching the tent in the lashing rain was not a lot of fun and it rained most of the night. However, once the Oztent is up we are secure and dry and ready to face the next day.

PS Written hours after the above was typed.

As I sit battened down in the tent with rain still lashing down hour after relentless hour; as the second thunderstorm rages over us (or has the first one come back with more); as I contemplate rain pouring off the roof and being caught in a bowl for dishwashing; as I look out at the firepit and barbeque area with the thoughtfully placed logs to sit on and sing jolly campfire songs; as I think of all the above I think back to a welcome sign I saw near Lake Eyre which read

“South Australia. The driest state in the driest continent on earth”

Bah!!!!

PPS Next day
Still raining. Keeping a watchful eye on nearby river which has been rising rapidly - hope it doesn't burst its banks . Am going to get out the umbrella and take the computer for a hike up Mt Remarkable to try to get a phone signal to get onto the internet to post this blog and, more importantly, get a weather forecast.