Serene seas, imposing boulders and rogue waves

"What is it about the sea?" Mike mused as we made our way around the granite point at Port Elliot, passed giant boulders that pile themselves up the cliff and spill down into the water. We stood on the granite outcrop in the presence of 'rock' (anyone whose been to Hanging Rock knows what I mean by presence).

It is similar to the feeling I get when standing alone in a copse of very large and regal trees; a feeling of other-worldliness; of elemental beings riding the sap as it rises. However, tree energy is gentle; less imposing than these giant granite stones.

The image and sound of water crashing against rock takes us up past our thoughts into musings and contemplation. "It is the primordial echo of the deep - the sludge and mud of our origins that speaks to our ancient sub-cortex." My answer to Mike's musings. He looks at me sideways. Such an Alana response.

The sea is a glorious and terrifying power and my timid nature has never understood it well enough to venture far from shore. I love the quiet bay near my home in Frankston, just ten minutes walk from my front door. I love that I can walk into the sea there without fear. I can swim and frolick and enjoy her benevolence knowing she won't spit me out of a rogue wave onto a gravelly shore.

It is no surprise to me that I would experience my first dumping on the seemingly quiet and friendly beach at Port Elliot in Horseshoe Bay. The weather soared close to 40 for a few days and the heat drove me into the water. Mike and I had been jumping waves and cooling off for two days and I was enjoying the relief and fun we were having. This day I had followed Mike in past the shore-breakers (I can't see very far without my glasses) into what I thought was deeper and calmer water. Port Elliot is renowned for its regular but relatively harmless shore-breakers. I turned around and coming toward me was a rogue wave which tailed a larger than usual set. I jumped the wave and knew at that moment that I should have gone under it. What followed I could embellish by saying my life flashed before me, but that didn't happen. What happened was closer to the image of washing going round in a front loader. I was tumbled and tumbled and ground around the sand and not knowing this experience before, I was terrified as I could not find my footing and just had to wait to be spat out in the foam. When I finally surfaced Mike was grinning and washing the water from his eyes saying " boy, that was a bit of fun", not realising I had just been put in my place by the sea. I stood shaking, gasping for breath and in shock, with sand caked in my hair, ears and private bits. It took all of an hour for Mike to coax me back in.

The following day was much cooler and I was happy just to sit on the grassy bank and watch others eat sand.



HOTEL ELLIOT - PORT ELLIOT

What makes a Pub a good one!.

Well it could be how it looks, the feel about the place,the staff, the patrons, maybe even the location. It also could be none of the above, so long as the beer is cold and someone is behind the bar ready to pour you one.

I liked this particular pub because I passed it everyday walking into town with Alana to do the daily shop. The pub wasn't on the main street which made it seem all the more rewarding.We would always stop in for  "the one" before returning back to camp.

The look of the pub from the outside was quite appealing to me as it had this slight art deco look. I liked the big picture framed windows in the front bar, they were open and inviting. You could sit at them and read the papers with your nose hanging over the footpath, ready to ambush some passerby with a quick hello or a smile while having a cold frosty.

Coorong: From the Ngarrindjeri word kurangh, meaning 'long neck'.

As Mike said, we are dug in here at Port Elliot for a few days before we head off to Victor Harbour. I just wanted to talk a little about my cruise on the Coorong last Sunday. Mike decided not to join me and instead he took the bike around Goolwa and went in search of the surf beach. That's one of the differences between Mike and I, I love the calm waters and seek out the bird life, and Mike prefers the surf coast with crashing waves and he's always on the look out for a beach that is friendly enough for him and his body board.

So off I go on the Spirit of the Coorong cruise with various other folk of all shapes and sizes. I took a seat up on the top deck at the front and had the best viewing spot all day. The cruise went for 6 hours, and it was 6 blissful hours of bird watching and cruising through this remarkable part of the world. I loved it so much. After going to the mouth of the Murray we proceeded down the Coorong doing a couple of stop offs on the way; first a walk across the peninsula to the surf beach known for its cockles, then the second stop was at a spot called Cattle Point where we walked up some dunes and went to check out some ancient middens that belonged to the Ngarrindjeri People who lived on the Younghusband Peninsula before white fellas came and stuck their cattle on their land and pushed them off to Point McLeay which was the first Aboriginal mission in Australia. The Ngarrindjeri lived in an 'environment rich with animals, plants and aquatic resources which meant that they were less nomadic than Aborigines of the mainland'. I loved being on the water; it reminded me of many many summer holidays as a child spent on Tamboon inlet way before it was Croajingolong National Park. My step father, Danny, had a little holiday shack across the lake and the only way there was by boat. I remember setting off at the landing and taking that trip across the water, away from people and away from our known lives into the magic of Tamboon. We would play on the huge sand dunes and walk for ages along the ocean beach, catch fish with Dad and go prawning. It all came flooding back to me.

That settles it, we're going to Tamboon before we go home!!!

The Last Ten Days

We are now happily ensconced in a little seaside town called Port Elliot. We've spread ourselves right out again. This place is not an overnighter that's for sure. A couple days ago Alana went on a little boat cruise along the mouth of the Murray while we stayed 2 nights in Goolwa. Before that we stayed in a park on Lake Albert in a little place called Meningie. Saw some amazing sunsets while on the lake. Checked out this guy called Jay Hoad who played at the local pub, he had just finished his tour of America and the Caribbean ( or so his flyer said! ). cross between John Butler n Xavier Rudd. Locals were friendly, one even offered Alana and I a spliff. The Coorong was good to see as well. We free camped 2 nights amongst the Roo Poo and  had this persistent bee or wasp that wouldn't leave us alone when we were at camp. All is well!.

Aside

More to Michael's entry on the idea of 'aside'. I feel that Mike and I have taken ourselves off the road most travelled and given ourselves permission to come aside for a while. To leave the known track of our lives and take ourselves out into the expanse of adventure, of experiences new and ready to be lived. Aside for me will be different than for Mike. We experience our interior lives individually while sharing the companionship of our outer life. The simple daily rituals of camp life are calming and agreeable to both our dispositions. There can be a very simple rhythm to life on the road.

For me, aside is to take time to see things that I forget to look at when I'm busy and at home.  While on the long beach here at Robe, we walked and walked and then lay down and looked up; something I did often as a child, looking up there for some sense of my own size. Somehow I feel it is in the expanse, while feeling so finite, that I feel closest to my own strength.

So, lots more aside for us...tomorrow we leave Robe for the Coorong, where we will leap frog to free camping spots along the national park. Looking forward to the bird life...

Blue Highways

I've just finished a book Lani gave me to read. She said I should read it before our travels got much further underway.
It's by William Least Heat Moon and it's called Blue Highways, from the travel writing genre, but it's much more to me than that.
The author basically comes to the point in his life when he decides to not so much drop out but more to step ASIDE and travel in his converted van all the back road highways around America, the ones that have been superseded by the newer , bigger, straighter ones, thus enabling him to see small town America.
Those of you that know me well, know of my long standing love affair with old America, the one I've imagined from authors like Faulkner, Flannery O'Connor, Conroy and McCarthy etc. Also it's history and the music.
This book was written in the 70's and I ponder on how much more has disappeared  in the last 30 years or so of this place that I have imagined so vividly through what I have read. I would like to go one day  and see for myself, I'd imagine I would find a little of what I had read and still soak it up with absolute reverence an satisfaction.
The author William Least Heat Moon writes beautifully, full of gentle humour and clarity. I love his powers of observation and the way he was able to engage the characters he met along the way.

Beyond the broken white line

Beyond the broken white line

Stretching away from noisy mind

Up past paddocks of duty

Out toward the horizon

Joy