Well, here’s a thing. When I was young, I loved summer but I wasn’t into hanging around the beach baking in the sun because that way madness (and melanoma) lies. Did you know that melanoma kills a lot of Aussies? The sun out-does venomous spiders, snakes and bugs in the killing department. Basically, it’s an extermination machine disguised as a necessity to life. Water’s the same. A little is good for you; too much and it can kill you.
But some of it is mighty purty!
What's next I hear you ask? Well....it's Victoria Fossil Cave at Naracoorte in SA! Yaaaayyyy!!! [And the crowd are going wild!] Yes, it appears that many moons ago, in the time before The Internet, people actually socialised with each other, and went outdoors and explored stuff. And some guys explored so much that they eventually found a cave with loads of fossils in it, and they got all excited and shouted “Victoria!” instead of “Eureka!” and that’s how the Victoria Fossil Cave was named. Possibly.
I know it’s a bit unfashionable to say it, but I love Radelaide. It’s easily navigable, there’s really good beaches and parks, year round festivals, great buildings, it’s close to wine country, the roads are wide enough to land a plane on, and Rundle Mall’s got balls. What's not to love about all that?
We enjoyed the gig (remember, there was a reason we were here), AND sleeping in an actual house AND not being woken pre-dawn by squawking birds. The morning after the gig suggested a little lie-in and a lazy breakfast, followed by a drive out to Victor Harbor and its environs for a day of sun, exercise and culture.
If you've ever been on the Princes Highway going through the Coorong in South Australia, you'll know that it's not the most exciting of places. Yeah sure, it's an internationally important wetland and it's chokka block full of cultural history and birds, but to just drive though it? That's as boring as bat shit, my friends. You have to be able to stop and have a wander around because staring at road and salt bush for 100kms is enough to kill off what's left of anybody's brain cells. And so it was that we found ourselves at a place called Salt Creek, faffing about on Pipe Clay Lake.
Finally! South Australia!
We’ve stopped at Mount Gambier (which should be pronounced ‘Mont Gom-bee-air’ ...from the French for ‘half an hour behind’**), for a squizz at the Blue Lake and the very impressive Umpherston Sinkhole.
**This is probably made up.
My sister's dogs are neurotic. They bark at dust. Imagine how quiet I’d have to be to leave her house at 4am to shoot a sunrise without waking the entire household. I was resigned to an epic fail.
St Philip and St James Anglican Church sits on a hill in the township of Old Noarlunga, about 30kms south of Adelaide, and supposedly takes its name from two men who were instrumental in building it in 1850.
Once upon a time in a land far, far away there lived a little hill that was known as The Sugarloaf. Why? Did it look like sugar? A loaf? A loaf of sugar? What is a loaf of sugar anyway?
This is The Sugarloaf:
The little South Australian township of Lobethal is noted for its yearly Lights of Lobethal Festival, which essentially sees every house, shop, tree, sleeping dog etc bedecked in a million Christmas lights. It’s said to be the largest Christmas Light display in the Southern Hemisphere. That’s a big call. Clearly nobody’s been to see what’s going down in suburban Happy Valley!
Just after Easter, me and the better half went to Kangaroo Island in South Australia for a few days. We were rather chuffed to have some fabulous weather and it was relatively quietish tourist-wise. No queues, no taffic jams, no problems finding a park anywhere.
Also no finding a sandwich anywhere outside of normal lunch hours.