Port Lincoln

Another good day today, with more amusing things happening. There were no dolphins to be seen - they clearly had better things to do - so instead I headed into town to find the bank and brekkie.

But then it started. I walked into the cafe opposite the bank and met Philip, a wonderfully eccentric and rather tatty 75 year old who immediately collared me, and insisted on buying me coffee., although I suspect he had no money. But he would not take a refusal, however polite, so I gave in.

He was clearly an intelligent bloke with a bit of a past, and was very entertaining. He told me about every car and motorbike he’d ever owned - in detail - then about his travels in Europe in 1974. Turns out he is the son of Reg Bishop, a former labour politician ( now dead) a minister in the Gough Whitlam government in the 1960s/70s, and who set up Telstra and various other national institutions. He had lots of stories about bent politicians, their poncing offspring, and his own misspent youth.I eventually left an hour after I’d intended but it was a funny conversation.

So after fuelling up, I pull up at some lights and a bloke starts giving me the thumbs up then tells me to pull over just across the junction.  More questions about the bike, advice on free places to camp along my intended route, and stuff to do, the best places to buy petrol and who to ask for over the Nullabor. He has a postie and loves it, although he now has to do the wife and kids thing because his wife says so. Nice chap but never did ask his name.

It was midday by the time I got on the road proper but then I figured that as I had nothing particular to do except ride and chat to people, I was supposed to be  enjoying such encounters anyway. Its good to have a reminder of that every now and again.

Passing out of Whyalla, I spotted the pony club. Looks like they've got a grow you own fodder campaign going on. Not many ponies about though.

It was still quite warm when I set out, and I came across this little fella basking in the sun by the roadside. He was just standing there, soaking up the rays and was not in the slightest bit bothered when I stopped and got quite close to him.

That top end of the peninsula is obviously a big mining area still, and I was struck at how tidy it is for such an industrial landscape. Look at the neat colours in this spoil heap -  clearly and OCD merchant is in charge of it.

I spent the whole afternoon pottering down the eastern coast of the Eyre Peninsula, calling in at little towns as I headed south. Cowell, Tumby Bay, Port Arno, Port Neill and then finally Port Lincoln. Sweet little seaside backwaters stuck in a time warp and all the better for it. People who know each other, don’t know me but still wave as I pass or pass the time of day in shops.

 This bloke overtook me on one of the side roads. Ha!

And the landscape and temperature changed as I rode south. The bare earth and scrubby bush gave way to pasture and green foliage, and the air temperature dropped. It was still warm but the air became distinctly nippy and I had to do all the vents up in my jacket. I might break out the coldkiller for tomorrow, at least in the morning.

One of the things that I love about Australia is the complete lack of appreciation or chic when it comes to presentation. Aesthetics and ergonomics are of no consequence here, and as long as it works,  it is kept working and neat until it really does die. That’s probably why the little towns are so well kept and unaltered, in that ‘ if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’ sort of  way. But I did wonder when I saw this outfit at a servo; was it a camper that somebody had knocked up, or was it an old caravan on its way to the knacker’s yard?  My money is on an even bet.

Just down the road from there, I stopped at a shop and held the door for a sweet old lady who followed me in.

“ Thank you dear, very kind”

“that’s OK, you’re very welcome”

“ It’s nice that people still have manners these days”

Then to the shop owner:

“ Chris, you bastard. That meat you sold me last week was tough. Fucking tough”

“ What was wrong with it Mavis?”

“ I don’t know, it was shit. You should be ashamed of yourself for selling stuff like that”.

Then to me:

“ bye dear, nice to see you. Be careful on that bike”.

Port Lincoln is a sizable place right on the ocean but its cold because the wind comes right up over the water from antarctica. And there’s a group of about 20 islands just off shore called Sir John Banks. He was the bloke who part funded Matthew Finders expedition, and was part of one of Cook’s voyages. Flinders named the group after him and each of the islands after places round his ( Flinder’s) home area in Lincolnshire, UK. And of course, Port Lincoln has the same connection with Flinders.

I was chatting to a bloke yesterday who tried to tell me that Flinders, Stuart and Sturt, the main men who forged the main routes across this huge country, and Todd who did the telegraph line, were all true blue Australian explorers. He wouldn’t believe me and was then genuinely surprised when I said that nope, they were Brits, each and every one of them. It always amuses me the capacity that Aussies have for adopting people and things when it suits them, and then come unstuck when the true facts are revealed.