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Spear Creek… a trip to town! (Part 8)

Spear Creek... a trip to town! (Part 8)

I took a drive into Port Augusta, a little concerned about the rattle that at times sounded a little like something was going to fall apart under my bonnet. My poor little Mazda was not very happy.
Upon arrival in the township I drove around trying to remember where the street was that you turn into to get to Trevor’s workshop. I had been there a few times before and can picture the street in my mind but how to actually get there eludes me. Of course, I have no address, not even a phone number. Trevor is a friend on face book and I had actually contacted him via there to arrange his assistance.

Eventually, after a phone call to my future daughter in law who is a born and bred Port Augusta girl currently holidaying in Qld, I found Trevor’s workshop. The day was very warm indeed but this did not stop the ever present smile on Trevor’s face. He would be busy for a couple of hours, could I come back at 2. Of course, I had my camera with me so I was more than happy to take a drive around the town and look for interesting sights.

First of all the railway yards. When I was in town for Christmas I saw the Ghan there but did not stop to photograph it. Yep, you guessed it, it was not there today when I had all the gear. Just goes to show, never let a chance go by! I did manage to snap some of the other engines though so it was not a wasted visit.

There are many interesting spots in Port Augusta. How could there not be with the beautiful Flinders Ranges as a back drop, the bridges and the esplanade. I received many stares from curious locals as I wandered around with my camera gear. It was very tempting to join the youngsters splashing and laughing in the water under their parents watchful eyes. Many of the shady trees were occupied by picnickers, a wonderful relaxed summer’s day. The boats out on the harbour floated lazily. One however was looking rather unfortunate. I think the owner may not have allowed for the tide when he moored it…it was lying on its side, mostly above the water line. I bet the skipper was not too happy when he spotted that mistake!

The Pastoral was a great place for a lunch of crumbed butter fish and a chance to watch some of the Hopman Cup (can’t miss an opportunity to catch some tennis at this time of year). A couple of delicious lemon lime and bitters and I was back off to Trev’s place where he solved the problem in no time. It appeared that when the mechanic in Adelaide replaced my shock absorbers a couple of weeks earlier he had not tightened the nuts on the top of them. The rough roads had worked them looser and hence the rattle. Thank goodness it was nothing more serious than that. Thank goodness also that I actually knew a mechanic in the town. Very fortunate indeed. It was lovely to drive back out to Spear Creek with not a hint of a noise from under the bonnet.

Upon arrival back at camp I decided to go for a walk. There were several vehicles in the park, with various forms of camping equipment. As I approached ‘my’ tree I smiled at a little girl in a pink Barbie dress and said “Hi” to her Mum. They had a caravan set up where my tent had been just a couple of days before. The little girl immediately asked what my name was and where I ‘lived’. I told her my name and said that until recently I had lived in a tent just where her home was and that the tree she was sitting under was ‘my’ tree. She laughed at me and said that I could share it with her. Her Mum was quite fascinated that I was camping on my own and very interested to hear about my experience so far. She was from Derby in WA and knew of the stations that I lived on as a child in the Kimberly region. A small world indeed. She and her husband had decided that it was time to just pack up and travel. They are certainly braver than I would have been. There are 6 of them and a dog in their van. The oldest child is starting year 8 in 2014 and the youngest, the little girl, kindergarten. Mum is going to home school them via School of the Air in WA. I smiled to myself and wished her luck, remembering my time as a School of the Air student doing lesson via the radio. I’ll bet things have changed considerably with the advances in technology since I was 7 or 8.

To be continued…..

Spear Creek…On a more serious note. Part 7

Spear Creek...On a more serious note. Part 7

30th December 2013

Oh, what bliss to wake up this morning and hear the wind outside while I am in my luxurious little room. It makes one feel quite smug until I think about the fact that I came out here to camp and what I am doing now is certainly not tenting. Oh well, at least I had a good night’s sleep last night and the toilet is much closer for the middle of the night call out.

Yesterday afternoon I took a drive up into the ‘real’ bush camping area of Spear Creek. I sat for some time in amongst the beautiful old trees in the dry creek bed. It is difficult to imagine water flowing through the creek but it is obvious that it does from time to time as there is debris caught in various places along the way.

As I sat giving myself over to the energy of the land I heard voices drifting on the air. It is true that we leave an energetic ‘footprint’ where ever we go in life. Here at Spear Creek there are many such energies, however the strongest are those of the aborigines of old. Their spirits linger in this place where they lived many years ago. I see camp fires burning, children playing, women chattering while they work, men working pieces of wood with stone axes and flint knives. A peaceful and contented scene. I feel that in other areas of the property there has been unrest. I do not know the history of the area but I know from within that this is quite a significant place in the indigenous history of the area.

I drive back through the gate, feeling very honoured to have been given an insight into this wonderful place. As I stop to open the gate I hear my Dad’s voice telling me that you always leave a gate as you find it. Never pass through a closed gate without closing it again after you. This became second nature to me and my siblings at a very early age but not everyone had the same education. I see that the gate on the walking track had been opened and closed but the latch had not been fastened. Some people have obviously not experienced just how clever horses really are.

My next stop is the shearing shed. The first thing that hit me was the smell. How familiar that was! Lanoline in its most natural form. Somehow a shearing shed always smells dusty also. As I walk through I remember playing in the shearing shed on our family property, the holding pens where the sheep were kept awaiting selection by the shearer, the chutes down which the sheep were released after they had been shorn. Outside in the yards there are a couple of sheep, I wonder are they there for slaughtering, crutching or what the reason is. I see a stand of lamb marking cradles where the young male sheep are held to be castrated, once again the memories rise of days in the yards as a child, when castrating, tail docking and ear marking were the day’s activities. Those stories are worthy of their own telling somewhere down the track.

The shed is on a rise on the property and the views are wonderful. One side are the Flinders Ranges and the other side the ocean at Port Augusta. Not far from the shed there is a house. What a glorious place to live.

I return to the deck at the front of my unit which juts out into the bush. What a pleasure it was to sit out there and listen to the Kookaburras laughing at me. A barbeque to cook my sausages on while I enjoy my evening drink, life doesn’t get much better. Well, at this stage I think the only thing that could actually make it better would be to have someone special by my side who understands my love for the bush and how I will forever be called to places like this to restore the balance within… the serenity.

To be continued…