Last evening turned out to be less peaceful than expected. The Bashers encountered on the road a couple of days ago, arrived in Wudinna yesterday, or more particularly, at our motel and caravan park complex, having spent the night at Streaky Bay. They celebrated their arrival with a “Big Fat Greek Wedding” themed dinner at the Wudinna Community Club. While the local community were not invited to share the feast, there were food stalls set up on the oval for them to attend, a band to entertain, winding up after dark with a protracted fireworks display.
We had seen some white bridal be-gowned fatties arrive at the motels, but had not understood the significance of the particular costume. It was the fireworks that caught our attention, and we figured it was somehow related to the Bashers in the area. I was concerned about the dollars going up in smoke, the hard earned fund-raising over the past year. One chicken-dressed couple of women were reported in The Advertiser to have raised $32,000 during the past year. You cannot deny that such effort and result is most worthy, however I cannot understand how the consumption and wastage of gunpowder fits with this.
Back at the motel, the Bashers bashed on, partying until at least 1 am, but then all rose bright and early, with the last stretched EH Holden pulling out bearing Stetson wearing guys before 8 am. They all obviously have hardy constitutions.
We deliberately delayed our own departure, waiting for the rain to spell, the same rain that did not seem to dampen the antics of the Bashers, but were still gone by 9.30 am heading south east on along the Eyre Highway, turning south onto the Tod Highway, thirteen kilometres out of Wudinna.
The Tod Highway continued south for 179 kilometres through extensive grain and canola growing land, passing through the tiniest little settlements with little else than the tall white grain silos next to the rail-line, which together with a substantial water pipe line that conveys Murray River water to Port Lincoln, follows the road. The pipeline disappeared from time to time and watching for its reappearance created an entertainment for us as we travelled on down these very straight and relatively flat roads. There was not a lot of traffic, most folk preferring to either cross the top of the peninsula on the Eyre Highway, or those with time on their hands, to follow the coast in its entirety.
We stopped at Cummins, a rural service hub of less than a thousand people, who are kept busy selling of servicing cultivating and harvesting machinery, working the only flourmill on the Eyre Peninsula or working in the Five Loaves Bakery which makes the most delicious rolls, the lightest and freshest sampled for a very long time.
At the tiny community of Wanilla, settled after the Second World War with resettled war veterans, we found a rest area, just big enough for us and a huge ant nest, which initially, we parked on top of. Needless to say, we were quick to move when we found our doorway was directly above the centre and the ants were lining up to come on in.
We turned on to the Flinders Highway, twenty five kilometres west of Port Lincoln, and soon found ourselves driving down into the charming township, a “fishing village” of 14,000 people. There is only the one caravan park in town and just one other a little to the north, so this has the monopoly on the many tourists who find themselves here in Port Lincoln. It is a lovely park, sloping down to the bay.
We normally look out for the cheapest parks, so don’t get to see the best of the parks on offer, and hence are more impressed when we find ourselves in such. After an oldies discount, we are paying $33.25 which is very good compared to other high priced poor facilities. We have booked for three nights, with the opportunity to extend if required.
We popped out to stock up at the local Coles and found a KMart, where we were able to purchase a replacement thermos. That will be useful tomorrow when we head out to explore the region.
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