I've just come back from what would have to be one of the most magnificent coastline views in the world - thunderous, great white waves crashing into tremendously high, crumbling cliffs along the Nullabor Plain of Australia (on the Great Australian Bight, down the bottom).  This is where I've been taking Marlo for our morning walks this week.   When I was chatting to David the other day online, we were looking at some photos together and he pointed out that I kept on saying, "Wow!"   "Wow!"   "Wow!"    lol      

This is just such a place of incredible contrasts - arid landscapes, with the softest of little wildflowers growing out of the rock.   Even when I first arrived here, intending only to stay for one night, I was greeted by doves at the caravan park check in office and of course, with such a welcome, I had to stay a week.   I reversed the caravan (yes!) into a spot right next to the pathway to the beach, so Marlo and I have been getting plenty of exercise on our morning and evening walks.   

Here is the link for where I'll be placing the bulk of my photos for the trip (but I won't have this done for a little while yet):    http://picasaweb.google.com/CherylTheScribe/AroundAustraliaOn200AWeek?pli=1#

Okay, go and get your atlas (or GoogleEarth) - you're going to want to check out some of these places:

The Nullabor Plain is the world's biggest, flattest piece of limestone - covering an area of around 200,000 square kilometres and measuring up to 300 metres thick.   It runs from Cape Pasely in the west, to Cape Carnot (near Port Lincoln) in the east - a distance of 1,160 kilometres.   While most people think Nullabor is an aboriginal world, it really comes from the latin 'nullus arbor' (treeless plain).   The aborigines called the area 'Ooondiri' which means 'the waterless' with temperatures that can get up as high as 40 degrees Celsius in the summer.   Man, that's hot!   And no wonder - no trees and no water!   The Nullabor is one of the most unique tracts of unspoilt wilderness on the planet.   It is touted as one of the world's great road journeys.   

Elliston, where I am now, is a quaint little town, with a garage, general store, post office, bakery, hotel, auto electrician and rural supplies place.   Oh, and it has a hospital and tourist information office as well.   Actually, it's one of those places that you keep discovering little things in - a crayfish shop (from November to May), an opportunity / thrift shop (in the tourist info office), an abalone company (which, by the way, has a poster in its window advertising a $60,000 reward for the person who finds a missing piece of scientific equipment, lost at sea).

The town also has a number of wonderful murals on various buildings - the public toilets, the tourist info office, an old store.   There is also an ongoing exhibition of sculptures which have been placed at various sites along the popular tourist drive which runs along the coastline here.   Another thing you notice about the town are various monuments to lost souls - a fisherman, a surfer and a nun - all very touching.   The one for the fisherman has the obligatory bottle of beer stuck in it with a sign saying, "Just gone fishin'."   The surfer's friends and family have erected a lovely mosaic picnic table with some beautiful lines about being a seeker (coincidentally I was there the day after the young man's birthday and someone had obviously lit a candle there for him).   The monument to the nun (apparently washed off the rocks to her death) was erected back in the 1920's from memory, from public subscription.

Not far from Elliston is a place called Talia Caves and they are just heart-stoppingly awesome.   I'd be warned before I went there, "Keep an eye on the ocean behind you, and be careful in the caves."   Anyone who has felt the power of a storm or an incoming tidal rush will know how important this advice is.   One big wave and it's all over for you!   These photos just don't justice to the magnificence of these places.   You need a wide angle lens to capture the majestic power of the landscape.   At any moment you feel that you will be consumed - either by the cliff collapsing on top of you, or you falling into the ocean and being consumed.   No wonder I feel so vulnerable!   lol  

Up the road is a little Honesty Bakery on the side of the road at Colton which had run out of bread when I visited there, but when I leave, I'll be picking up some freshly-baked bread on my way.

Yesterday I took a bit of a drive inland to Lock, Kyancutta, Wudinna and back to Port Kenny on the coast.   This only served to convince me that yes, I wanted to live on the coast!   It's all pretty dry and unappealing in there.   When I arrived at Lock, I had to get a photo of their welcome sign.   Three wheat silos.   I thought, "If that's the highlight of the town, god help it!"   Whenever I go through a place that has, to my eyes anyway, not many redeeming qualities or attractions, I wonder about the people who live and die there.   What attracts them?   What holds them there?   I just could not live in a place that did not have green trees, shade and water.   And I'm not talking about the odd tree here and there, I'm talking substantial oases of ease on the eye.

Amazingly though, I'd come through a place called Warramboo which is where Don and Judy, a lovely couple I'd met at Lipson Cove last week lived.   I hadn't given it much thought as I was focused on getting to Wudinna (and hadn't remembered the name of their town anyway unfortunately), but whaddya know! I stopped off at Kyancutta to get some petrol and who should be there, but Don and Judy!!!   They were on their way to Adelaide and were waiting for the bus.   We chatted for awhile and I filled them in on what they'd missed after they left Lipson Cove - the influx of young party revellers, the car accident, and two brown snakes!   

Marlo and I continued our journey to Port Kenny where I met a delightful woman and her three grandchildren on the little jetty there.   The little girl told me about a vivid dream she'd had about going over a cliff in the car with her mummy and having to rescue her little sister etc.   As she told her story, I put my hand up to feel the beautiful little red heart pendant David had given me for my birthday in New Zealand, back in April and horror of horrors, it was gone!     I rushed back to the car, but it wasn't there and then with a dash of hope, I remembered taking my top off way back in Kyancutta - around a hundred kilometres back.   Life presented a couple more difficulties in that my mobile phone hasn't worked down here on the Eyre Peninsula for around three weeks now (which pisses me off no end since I'm paying $50 a month for the 'convenience' of having it!)***, so I went to the only public telephone box and got myself all settled with plenty of change etc., and then realised it was a card only phone!!!    And of course the post office it was out the front of, was closed and empty.   Over to the local pub, where the lovely publican lent me his phone and I rang the general store at Kyancutta.   The lady very kindly went out to look where I'd changed and was I ever so pleased to hear her ask, "Does it have a red cord?"    "Yes!!!!    Yes!!!!!     Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!"

To cut a long story short, instead of me having to drive back a hundred kilometres to get the pendant and then another hundred back to Port Kenny and another sixty something to Elliston - 260 kms - I posted her a self-addressed envelope so the pendant can catch up with me later.   

***  Does anyone know of a good telephone company I can get a good deal with for internet coverage while I'm on the road?   I have wireless on my beautiful Mac laptop and it's costing me a fortune going with internet at tourist info offices etc.    David and I chat via Skpe so I'm going to look into what they have, but I'd be very grateful to hear of other options.

Everywhere I look, there are couples travelling together, helping one another pack and unpack vans, going for walks, making plans, sharing their adventure.   I just want to feel close - especially to David - and even though he phones me every day (when we can have contact), I feel that I am just RELATING THINGS THAT HAPPEN, rather than really sharing them with him.

I don't know how all this is going to pan out.   I know that I will get to wherever my destination is - emotionally and physically - this is just a lonely spot on the journey, that's all.

AN INCREDIBLE THING JUST HAPPENED!

I'm at the local tourist information office / library doing this blog and a couple of ladies just came in looking for some information for their family history on John Hamp.   Apparently their great-great-great grandfather was involved in "The Elliston Massacre" where a whole tribe of aborigines was driven off one of the cliffs near here and was wiped out.

Apparently even today aborigines do not stay here in Elliston - all who visit tell of an uncanny feeling they get here and all quickly move on.

The lady who is researching the story, says that apparently the family took turns at looking after the animals while one stayed behind at camp to cook the evening meal.  One night, when the family returned, the grandfather's head had been cut off and stuck in the stew pot!   In retribution, the local whites drove the tribe they believed responsible off the cliffs into the thunderous waves below.

The lady's aunt, who told her the story, said her grandfather was not a very nice man, so who knows what drove the aborigines to such a murderous act.

One of the volunteers here at the tourist info office said her husband's family are fifth generation here and no such massacre occurred.   It's all very interesting and the truth has never been verified.   Apparently back then the area was covered with sheoaks and vegetation and while 'the natives' as they were then called, were driven off, it is also said there was no loss of life.

Interesting mystery.

  

ONE OF THE MOST AMUSING ASPECTS OF LIFE ON THE ROAD is witnessing everyone's little domestic rituals as they set up camp for the night.   

Campers have arrived early today and I've just been listening as a husband and wife back their caravan into position and discuss which way to face, which electrical outlet to use, where to put the waste hose, who picked the spot, what they want to see etc.   At another camp, husband and wife Dion and Treena are going through a well-oiled routine of getting the washing hung up and the television satellite dish operating.   (Guess who was doing what).

Back at Lipson Cove there was one guy I felt particularly sorry for.   He was on a pension (for being insane he said), but when he talked about it later, it seems he suffers from depression.   He and his dog live what seems to me to be a particularly squalid life.   And even as I describe it as 'squalid', that seems rather uncharitable - perhaps a better description would be 'desperate' or 'grim'.   

He travels in a ute with a canvas canopy so that each time he makes camp, he has to unload all his possessions from out of the back of the car and stow them away under the car or beside it - which makes for very uncomfortable living conditions if it's windy or raining and he has to go out to get something from under the vehicle.   And when he settles in for the night, there is nowhere to put his table or other things if it does rain.

His dog was suffering the ill effects of a lung virus and each time they passed by my camp, I worried that his dog would come into my camp and perhaps Marlo might just pick up the same virus.   The dog had blood oozing from one nostril and always had mucus drizzling from the other as well as a gunky eye.   The poor animal also suffered fits from time to time.   A totally miserable existence.   Once, he drank from Marlo's water bowl, and I surrepticiously knocked it over with my foot so that Marlo wouldn't be able to drink from it, until I'd washed it and put fresh water back in.   

This guy is probably one of the most pitiable people I've come across.   Every time I saw him I just thought, "Oooh, I feel so sorry for him."   He could fish and hunt and provide for himself that way, but more often than not he'd just cut off a chunk of cheese for a meal.   Television psychologist, Dr. Phil says to some of his guests, "You have to require more of yourself" - and that's what I think whenever I think of this guy.   He lived life on the edge of sustainability - he was just making it and that's all.   His life was just so meagre.

   

But then I'd meet a couple like Lainey and Bill and they were polar opposites - living a life of near perfection.   They certainly achieved a lot!   To the extent that they'd gutted and rebuilt an old bus they travelled around in even though that entailed removing hundreds of metal screws from the roof.   It was a delight to be in their company and lounging in the decor they'd created.   Good food.   Wine.   Stimulating conversation.   Enquiring minds.   Harmony.   Great company, both of them.   As can happen on the road, we made an immediate connection when we introduced ourselves and they included me in their little jaunts around Langhorn Creek, Strathalbyn, Goolwa etc.   Lainey and Bill, like my friends Lisa and Bill, are inspirational because they illustrate so well what you can achieve when you set your mind to something.   My friend Chris is the same - she just loves designing and building (or renovating) houses.   And she does it to perfection.

One of the little excitements I have on the road is when I set up camp for the night.   If I'm the first one there, I wonder if anyone else will pull in and the anticipation of company or no is one of my afternoon highlights.   When Bill and Lainey pulled into the campsite at Langhorn, I thought, "Wow, what an outfit!"   Their bus was a lovely donkey-brown and they were towing a lovely little Subaru four-wheel drive.   Off came the car and up went the clothesline!   I'm not shy in approaching people if I feel like company and I'd already decided that as soon as they'd had time to settle in, I would go over and introduce myself, but I got caught up with some little domestic duties of my own and before I knew it, Lainey was there beside me, introducing herself.   As soon as she found out I was on my own, she invited me over for a drink with them.   

It isn't things that make you feel secure, (although a secure lock does kinda make one feel secure), it's warmth and companionship, a knowing and an understanding of one another.   That's also what I experienced with Annette and Gavin at Tumby Bay.   It was the weekend and most of the camping spots at Lipson Cove had gone, so when I saw Gavin driving around trying to decide on which part of the road to set up on, I invited him to share my little alcove.   He and his son Braydon were setting up in anticipation of Annette joining them and when I heard Braydon say, "Here comes mum!" and his follow up, "Mum, mum, we're over here!   Wait there and I'll show you the way in", I was thoroughly charmed by what a lovely little, thoughtful boy he was.

The next day we'd decided to wade over to the little island off our cove when we were called away to a car accident up the road and after that had all settled down, Annette and Gavin very generously invited me to come and stay at their place when I moved on from Lipson.   Over a shared meal, they told me all about their own travels, bringing out a couple of photo albums and maps to illustrate where the good camps were.

   

One thing you notice in South Australia is how goddamned friendly people are!   Especially on the road.   They WAVE at everybody!   I'm not kidding!   Maybe it's because there aren't many people here in South Australia, but they are all still in the habit of waving whenever they pass another car.   When was the last time that happened to you?   It's taken me about three weeks to get into the habit myself because up until then, I'd be driving along, deep in thought, "Where will I go tomorrow?"   "What will I have for dinner tonight?" and a car would whizz by and before I'd even registered, there would be THAT wave!   And I would feel so extremely unfriendly for not waving back.   Well .... I would wave back, but by that time they were 50 metres down the road.   Each time it happened, I resolved that next time I would be ready, but sure as eggs is eggs, I'd get lost in thought again and another car would go by with that friendly little wave from the driver.   That wave just says so much:  "G'day mate!   Here we are.   Both on the road.   Have a nice day."   

I still think it's hilarious.   It's as though they've only had the motor car in South Australia for a little while and it's still a novelty to pass another car.

Talking about friendly - a couple I met at the Waterloo Bay Caravan Park at Elliston, Treena and Dion, presented me with a pocket full of quandongs - rich red edible fruits which belong to the sandalwood family.   Treena said all I need do is boil them up (after removing the pip) with some sugar and canned apple to make a deliciously unusual pie.   She also told me how to get periwinkles out of their shell and to cook them in sea water.   

Last night I had a complete stranger knock on the side of my van to say, "Nice and cold isn't it?"   And when I went to the door, he continued, "I think it's a bit too cold to drink outside don't you?"   Then he turned to see who he was talking to when I said, "I don't know who you are" and he realised he was at the wrong caravan!   lol    I was all ready to tuck up into bed and watch a DVD of "Hotel Rwanda", but it would have been nice to have gone and met some new people.   And that's the kind of thing that does happen on the road.   Someone lights a campfire and waves a welcoming arm to come on over and join them.

Another little camp ritual I like is when everyone is preparing their evening meal.   All those delicious smells wafting on the sea breeze.   When I bought the caravan, I was told, "Don't cook inside all the time or the van will smell and you won't be able to get rid of it."   But I reckon it kind of defeats the purpose of having a roof over your head if you HAVE to cook outside all the time.   So I cook inside and resale price be damned.   But I have made a concession (only cos the night I used two burners, I set off the fire alarm) because I figure in summer it will be just too hot to cook inside anyway, so I bought one of those little propane gas cookers which will fit on a card table.

Not wanting to muss up your caravan reminds me of another couple I met at Melrose.   I can't remember their names, but they loved caravanning so much they did it six months of the year and even when they made it back home to Adelaide, they booked into their local caravan park for two weeks just to get back into the swing of suburban life again.   This couple were so caravan-proud that they washed it practically every second day (that and their four wheel drive)!   

They'd told me that their caravan was fitted out with a toilet and shower, so I was a little mystified why I kept seeing them going over to the toilet block all the time - both for toilet stops and showers.   When he said something one day about going over to the amenities, I asked, "Didn't you say you had a toilet in your caravan?"   "Oh yes," he replied, "but we don't poo in it."    lol     I have a father like that.   They have a really large, comfortable lounge room and it's never been used - dad says he doesn't want to wear it out!   Even when I got married at home (over 35 years ago), it wasn't used - everyone just crammed into the family room instead.   In my memory it's only been used twice - when my sister came back from overseas and we had a get together so she could tell the family of the couple she travelled with how the trip had gone and when the funeral director came to discuss mum's funeral arrangements.

Washing cars and caravans is another 'little' ritual I've observed on the road.   People lovingly washing their caravan every couple of days AND their four wheel drive!   I really can't see the point myself.   I mean, we're travelling around Australia - what's the big deal about having gleaming vehicles?   I keep my van neat and tidy, floor swept and benches wiped down and my station wagon, while dust-covered, is organised and orderly inside.   I make sure my headlights and tailights are visible and no doubt, when I get to a big town and have $10 to spare I will take the car in for a wash ... one day ... but I'm far more interested in saving water.

Showering is my one indulgence (it is! chocolate and the internet don't count), but everywhere I go, there are signs saying, FIVE MINUTE SHOWER, so I have rationalised that if I shower every second day, I'm entitled to a ten minute shower.   Still, I'm wracked with guilt.   I always imagine anyone who comes in, giving me a dirty look and scowling at how long I'm in there, trah-lah-lah'ing my way through my long shower.   My lovely friend Lisa is a three minute showerer.   She steps under the shower and turns on the water, just to wet herself down.   Then she turns off the water and lathers herself up.   Once she's all soapy, she turns the water back on for a rinse off and she's done.   What's the fun in that?   No luxuriating!   I'd rather go without than not have the luxuriating.

Actually, I'm a hopeless environmentalist!   I also love campfires!   What is to become of me?   

This life is a constant toss up between what I want to do, and what I think it is responsible to do.   Certainly my use of water is vastly reduced from when I was in a house.   In fact, my use of all resources is very much diminished.   

I was thinking the other day, that you could easily make a difference in the use of resources if you just shut all the big supermarkets and made people grow their own fruit and vegetables and had neighbourhoods maintain their own 'house cows'; and for everyone to have to tote their own water from a community well.   Nothing reduces your use of something like having to tote it yourself!   If we all had to generate the electricity we used - through solar power or pedal power or whatever, can you imagine how much less we'd all use?

I'm presently at a really isolated camp near Streaky Bay, Speed's Point.   It's another of those absolutely beautiful, wild roaring surf places which make up the Nullabor Plain coastline.   I arrived Monday and had a rare night on my own, and no one came on Tuesday or Wednesday either.   It's close to a full moon, so it's been lovely here in the moonlight.   The road into here is pretty rough and at one stage I thought I was going to get bogged on the sandy track into the camp, so it may be that I'll be here all week on my own.   There are about 20 or so little camping spots and when I went for an explore, and it looks like it's been awhile since any of the fires have been used.   I can see one house a couple of kilometres in the distance, so it's good to know there is somebody in the vicinity anyway.

Getting back to toting - yesterday I found a huge wooden post waaaaaaay up the other end of the beach, but it was water-logged so I dragged it higher up the beach and left it leaning on a rock to dry out.   I went back early this morning, before it got too hot, determined that I would get it back to my camp for my fire.   It probably took me an hour or so to lug, roll, carry, drag it the kilometre or so I had to get back UP the hill to my camp.   The only way I could manage it was to set myself a goal - that rock there; that bit of kelp; where Marlo is; where the sun is throwing the shadow etc.   FINALLY, I got it back to camp and as soon as I got to the top of the hill, the Rocky theme started to play in my head!   lol

On the way back, I was amusing myself with all these inspirational sayings, and it occurred to me that while I was thinking of that poor guy back at Lipson Cove and how HE should require more of himself, it occurred to me that perhaps that that's not bad advice for ME.   To require more of myself.   I've been incredibly lazy for most of my life I think.   Which is not to say that I'm not determined, when I want to do something!    Yesterday (and the day before), I procrastinated all day about sewing up a couple of seams which had come adrift on my skirt.   It's amazing how many other things you can find to do when you're faced with something you don't want to do.   

I had hoped to do a lot of writing on this journey and no doubt I will.   I've also brought along my paints and brushes, but have yet to open a lid.   It seems to me that my time is spent in contemplation - Who am I?   What am I doing?   What's wrong with me?   What am I achieving?   etc.   I am constantly faced with my own inadequacies.   Even though most people, when they learn that I'm doing this trip on my own, say, "Oh, you're brave!"   I don't feel brave.   I'm just doing what I've always wanted to do - go around the coast of Australia.   This journey has the added advantage of it being an opportunity of finding where I'm going to live next, and there is a great sense of anticipation about that.   I wonder where it will be.   I have absolutely no preconceived ideas - apart from the fact that  it will be someone on the coast and it won't be a big city.

The intentional community that David and I 'fostered' in Second Life is really developing quite rapidly now, at least in the sense of them finding a sense of community together.   I do wonder whether our 'cyber' community will become a 'real' community.   Considering that members come from Australia, Canada, the U.S., England, Sweden, India etc., it may not be possible.   Still, the other day, as I drove along, wondering where my camp would be that night, the thought did cross my mind that I may end up being the 'advance scout' for a REAL community here in Australia.

Here are some photos of Speed's Point - one of a moody, storm-threatening morning and the other, brighter one, the view I had out my caravan door.