17 August 2013 - Port Lincoln Tourist Park, Port Lincoln, South Australia

It was a good call to hunker down for the afternoon yesterday; storms passed over, torrential rains fell and we were glad to have a secure home albeit just a few metres square (or rectangular).

When we rose disgustingly late this morning, with no excuse but for the fact it is Saturday, and thus the weekend, squally showers were the order of the day.

Chris went up to the office and paid for a further two days, in the hope that this would allow us to enjoy more of the region in better weather before rocking and rolling our way on up the coast. I do not mean to paraphrase the campaigning Kevin Rudd here, but to allude to the effect the wind has on the van.

We popped down to the CBD to purchase the Weekend Australian, and then into Coles to buy some of our favourite Vietnamese rolls for lunch, coming out with more than we had intended; groceries that is, not buns. We ended up buying another frozen kilo of barramundi fillets, something that has become a regular occurrence, and while it does not give us an entrée into the local fish market, it does add positively to our Vitamin D and Omega 3 intake at a manageable cost. And a reminder that here in South Australia, they do not do bags. We really must remember to take our “green” bags into every shop even if we intend to buy one item.

After lunch we ventured out into the sun and wind, around Porter Bay to Billy Lights Point and then back to the Lincoln Cove Marina. Out at the point we noticed a sinking yacht near the shore, obviously moored in a silly spot and left to the whims of the weather. Back at the marina, we drove around this delightful development admiring the smart houses and guessing that this is where all the smart people of Port Lincoln lived, or at least all those who do not live out beyond Winter Hill.

We parked near the wharves and walked along the lines of prawn and lobster boats, then up and along those on the opposite quay, the large tuna boats. All was quiet here, the captains and crew either having taken the day off to ready themselves for the first match of the Bledisloe Cup tonight, or making the most of a day’s rest forced by the lousy weather. I was reminded of the vibrant colours of the boats and their bits, buoys, ropes, nets, protective clothing, tenders and life boats, we had seen down on Victoria’s south coast at The Entrance. However we had been there in warmer weather, thus making our experience somewhat different.

I have already mentioned that Port Lincoln is a major centre for commercial fishing and more particularly gone on about the tuna farming here. Despite our prior knowledge of the extent of the industry, it was still surprising to see so many vessels here in port.

Port Lincoln is an important base for many of the vessels involved in the prawn fisheries of Spencer Bay and the West Coast (Venus Bay / Ceduna). Commercial prawn fishing commenced in this area in 1967 and has developed to an extent that there are now thirty nine vessels fishing in Spencer Gulf and three on the West Coast. Approximately 50% of the catch is exported overseas with the balance supplying interstate markets.

Fishing boats

The Rock Lobster fishing is one of the longest existing fisheries of the area, with the catch originally being known as “crayfish”. Fishing for lobster has changed dramatically from the slow ‘cutter” type of vessel used for many years to supply the domestic Australian and USA markets to current “fast craft” able to cover considerable distances, equipped with the most modern electronic equipment, and delivering the catch to be sold alive to Asian markets. Seventy seven vessels are licenced to fish the Northern Zone, which extends to the WA / SA border. The lobster fishing season commences on 1 November and continues until the end of May each year. During the fishing period vessels are also required to cease for three weeks as a conservation measure, and this explains why the lobster boats were all quietly at anchor.

And all of this coupled with my now limited knowledge of the tuna industry does nothing to help me understand why South Australia and Tasmania are the poor siblings to all the other States and Territories. I would have thought that per capita, they more than pulled their weight, however according to that read in the newspaper this morning, this is not so.

Chris was keen to drool over the yachts in the marina, having spotted their masts from down the street. We were distracted en route by a sculptural tribute to all the fishing vessels and crews lost out of this port, another work by Marijan Bekic, creator of The Australian Farmer at Wudinna. I was suddenly startled by a loud splash in the water below and soon found, to my great delight, a seal darting to and fro in front of us, perhaps cavorting with his dinner, and certainly entertaining. I suspect however that his dinner was more on his mind than our admiration of his antics.

We watched for a while then wandered over to find the yachts were securely beyond our view. A squall came over and we raced back to the landcruiser, sheltered from the storm. We decided to abandon our other plans for the afternoon town and retreat to the caravan, as we had yesterday.

So again we are settled in early, all the more prepared for the rugby game being played in Sydney; we will be both barracking for the All Blacks of course, but will keep our voices low; we daren’t upset all our Australian fellow campers. And I am also looking forward to barramundi and salad; Chris does it so very well.