Port Lincoln

I pointed the Vectra in the direction of the coast and set out for Port Lincoln, sadly waving goodbye to Wilpena Pound. The Flinders Ranges is one of those places that has to be seen to be believed. It is full of incredible beauty tinged with tragedy and sadness. The entire area is testimony to man's failure to tame the elements. 

As I drove along there were places signposted with "XYZ surveyed in 1878". On the GPS up would pop a grid of phantom streets. Out of the car window there was just desolation and maybe the ruins of a building; begun with optimism and abandoned in despair. The streets were never built and never will be, no car will ever drive along their ethereal pathway. 

When it wasn't a spectral town you would actually see some ruins, usually an abandoned farmhouse or a place where shepherds would camp for the night, fencing in his flock protecting them from potential dingo attacks. The most poignant place for me was Simmonston. This was going to be a stop on the Ghan railway. In preparation a general store and a hotel were almost built. The railway was diverted before they were completed. The building work was stopped and nature is slowly taking back what is rightfully hers. Simmonston is literally a town that never was.

Simmonston

I left with most of the staff suffering from extreme hangovers, they had farewelled 4 of their own the previous evening. Lets say I'm glad I'm not checking in to Wilpena Pond Resort tonight, the service and food may be a little off. I did leave as the most popular person in town (its not hard there is only about 50 of them). I managed to provide them with that most cherished of offerings. They are all mad fans of the TV show Revenge. Someone had kindly given me the remaining episodes in the series. Suffice it to say that sharing is caring. 

To get to Port Lincoln I had to back track through Hawker and Quorn where I again refuelled with more reasonably priced petrol. Then it was on to Port Augusta. I swung into the town to see if there were any attractions that caught my eye. The most startling thing was having to slow to 50kph and deal with traffic lights. I then pushed on and had lunch in Cowell which is one of those sleepy sea side villages that no doubt comes alive every Easter and Christmas when the tourists flock there.


I had caught up with another old friend whilst in Adelaide, Daryl Durrant (owner of radiocommercials.com.au, an online business for getting radio commercials scripted and recorded). He still lives in Sydney and the Guru of Glenelg had his number. To wile away the hours we spoke on the phone and tested Telstra's somewhat spurious claim about the Next G network's 98% coverage. It turns out that in the deep dark recesses of my mind I remembered he had worked in Port Lincoln (he built and opened their first commercial radio station). So within an hour of my call he had rounded up his contacts in town and set me up with drinks with them tomorrow. You can run but you cant hide. 

The Place With The Red Terracotta Roof (bottom left) Is My Humble Abode

I hugged the Spencer Gulf coastline and lobbed in to Port Lincoln late in the afternoon. I found a nice little apartment within walking distance to the main town, checked out a couple of pubs, cooked a nice steak and am currently enjoying the lights of the waterfront even as I type. Life is grand. Time for one last whisky before bed. I wonder what the poor people are doing?