7. Australia – Heading into the Outback and then back south

 Covering 2 October to 7 October 2019

   

a typical outback view but greener - and that isn't Uluru

Heading towards the Flinders a day later than expected we were definitely going back into ‘The Big Red’.  The centre of Australia (at least what we’ve seen of it) has almost without fail brick or rusty red dusty soil.  It gets everywhere and billows in huge clouds when vehicles drive along it.  In some places the road is a single car width strip of tarmacadam with a further strip of said red dust either side.  When you meet another vehicle, each driver is expected to run one set of wheels on the hard black stuff and one set on the packed down red stuff.  If the other vehicle is a land train it is of course prudent to just pull over and stop until it passes and the dust has settled a bit. 

South Australia's State Flower - Sturt's Desert Pea

There used to be a train which ran north towards the Flinders and way past that to the far north but the towns along the route were sidelined when the service stopped some years back.  The small towns are still there with their Australian civic pride and historical monuments but I can’t help thinking it must be a numbing existence.  We stopped in one town called Quorn and found a timewarp bakery and café set in what had been a small general store and was now called Emily’s Bistro.  It would definitely have been considered out of date in the 1950s but was a charming little place with the usual jolly, friendly staff.  The store still had the overhead cables and containers running from different counters in order to transport bills to a central cashier.  They call them ‘flying foxes’, a term I’d not come across before but I’m sure some of you will remember them from those old independent department stores we used to have.

this isn't retro, this is really untouched since the 1930's ? 40s ?

this is what a real dried up river bed looks like

an abandoned homestead - once a sheep station

We’d decided that Wilpena Pound, about another two hours driving away would be our destination for some walking in yet another National Park.  Wilpena Pound is a flattish plain surrounded by hills with only one easy way out and therefore simple for farmers to stop animals escaping.  Our alarm was set for about 4.30 so that we would be well into the walk before it started to heat up towards the 35C forecast for that day.  As it happens we were on our way in the palest of pre-dawn light and it was quite chilly !  

one of many fire damaged Eucalyptus

Making good time we climbed up on to the edge of what looks like an expansive volcanic crater with the flattish ‘pound’ below us before the sun had risen.  The pound is now filled with trees and farming here was a harsh existence according to the information boards.  The farmer and his family had to build a road out to move the animals when required.  It took them three years and then it was washed away in a flood and despite the flood, droughts and overgrazing were constant problems.  Farming disappeared in Wilpena Pound around 1920 but the overgrazing here and in many other places have caused very long term problems.  With very poor nutrient levels in the soils plus drought, growth is slow and weak.  I’ve heard it said that the natural vegetation will never recover.  As for the walk, it was quicker than the leaflet had indicated and we were back for a second breakfast in only about three or four hours.

dawn breaks over the edge of Wilpena Pound

what a difference a few hundred miles south makes

Only a couple of days later we were in southern South Australia in countryside that was not red and baking hot with sparse straggly bush as far as the eye could see.  We had been transported to a lush
green landscape where rivers had water in them rather than being a dry depression meandering from nowhere to nowhere.  It seemed as if we were in England or mainland Europe but we were driving through the famous, though surprisingly small Barossa Valley, probably Australia’s most famous wine region.  Other wine regions are available.  In fact we drove through several.  One wine town had “Mad Bastard Wines” as we entered and “Good Catholic Girl Wines” as we left.  The latter presumably recommended as best with wafers.

Our campsite was at Murray Bridge, right next to the river and our host at reception was called Mid.  I checked that I’d heard correctly and it was indeed Mid, short for Midson he said.  I just wasn’t cruel or fool enough to ask if he had an older and younger brother but I fear that he did.

the horse drawn tram on the pier at Victor Harbor (yep, without a U)

This was the Fleurieu peninsula (a lady in a tourist office solemnly informed me that it was French for flowers), a rather lovely place with a number of old style seaside towns.  One had camel rides on the beach and a horse drawn tram along a pier to a small island four hundred yards or so away.  All low key and no electronics in sight.  Another had a steam railway called the Cockle Train running from one coastal town to another on a 5 foot 3 inch gauge. Just to put that into context, standard gauge, the one most railways have is 4 foot 8 and a bit inches.  When all these railways were being set up in Australia each State had great autonomy, so Western Australia opted for narrow gauge (probably 3 foot 6 inches), Victoria chose 5 foot 3 while New South Wales and Queensland went for Standard Gauge.  I don’t know what the Northern Territories had but I hope it was good old British Great Western 7 foot gauge, the best of the lot.  I suppose just in case anyone is still awake and wonders what gauge is, I’d better tell you.  It’s the distance between the rails and generally the wider it is the more comfortable the ride.

The Cockle Train steaming into Goolwa station

Australians are big, very big on bungalows and it’s very difficult to find anything else in many places.  Perhaps they all get nose-bleeds if they go upstairs.  However, we drove through one small town here which was described by Lonely Planet as “could have been lifted out of the Cotswolds and plonked in the Australian bush”.  Well it certainly isn’t in the bush but lush green farmland and having seen the village, there can only be one or more of three explanations for this statement.  1. The author never visited the place.  2. The author had never visited the Cotswolds.  3. The author’s guide dog lied to him.

well I think you can think of your own caption for this one
- and I'd be happy to hear what they are