New writings on Japan and the Kimberley will be posted over coming months
Certain places, like old friends, draw you back again and again. In Mannum, 84km east of Adelaide , the morning fogs hang heavy over the paddle steamers of the Murray , creating a still and silent world. Recently I was doing a 1000km drive every month or so for an incredible 31/2 years, to lovely Port Germein on the Spencer Gulf . When I could, I'd take the way up through the Clare Valley.
Most times I'd opt for the shortest route – out through Melbourne 's western 'burbs and skirting the Wombat Ranges to Ballarat, Horsham, Tailem Bend, Adelaide . Up past Snowtown with a shudder for the bodies in the vaults. Port Wakefield with its tempting bakery and the last fuel stop.
The sheltering presence of the southern Flinders Ranges soon appears on the right. It's a treat if I've managed to set off early enough to see them lit by the setting sun. Around a bend, soon the lights of Port Pirie seem magically welcome. By now my talking book is at a specially gory bit – good to keep the sleepy gnomes from sneaking in. Finally, 30km along, the seaside hamlet with the longest wooden jetty in the world and a beachside hangar saying Broome Pearling Co. We bought an incredibly ugly house of cement blocks with a three-title block and once we put a window in, a sea view that, owing to the long tides, was usually of sand and seaweed ranges. On a good day the tall chimney of Zinifex, out to sea on our left, could seem to signpost the land of Oz. We'd welcome the colours of the sunset through that window – they were spectacular visually, as well spiritually, for they signalled relief from the torrid sun and the dismal foreground view.
The daytime view down was prosaic: backyards, more ugly houses and the characteristic tall tin fences, aboveground powerlines and three-storey-tall TV aerials of that region.
The winds would eat into you, and once Rog and I came back in January after a specially big blow and all the aerials in Pirie were bent at a 40-degree angle, two-thirds of the way up.
The days were long and hot. I'd walk the dogs on the beach then listen to Rog present the Morning Show on the ABC. I worked at the table looking out to the sea – usually travelling to some far-flung place my freelance Lonely Planet job took me. Sometimes it'd be too hot and the laptop would give out. Sometimes a day or so would be taken up in putting together Ikea flatpacked furniture I'd driven across; the amazing amount that fitted in for the long drive transformed the boxy spaces.
The time would suddenly arrive to return to the elegant city house, my frail parents and the strange existence of people in love who live apart. One last beach run for the dogs, one last meal together, one last kiss.
When we sold the ugly house we did OK because of the three blocks. Who knows if the new owners have carried out our dream of a ten-foot wraparound deck? We may never return but no need – that time is like a world in a snow dome, with a separate existence.
South Coast Seduction
The coast north of Wollongong and south of Sydney is downright seductive. The geography of the little townships between the looming escarpment and the Pacific Ocean , the history of the artists and inventors and writers who are tangibly among the community of living ones. With a long-anticipated drive across the Sea Cliff Bridge coming up, it was time to revisit this old friend,
published on www.travelmag.co.uk in 2006. more ... |
