We met at
Wellington on Saturday at 0900 hours to commence the trip. The main objective
for the trip was to use our tents for the weekend in preparation for a 4 week
outback trip later in the year. Secondary objectives were to explore some of
the country between the Dukes and Princes Highways. A personal objective for
Gerry and Bev was to try out their rubber duck.
We turned off the highway about 15 km from Wellington and headed inland. Gerry’s mouth dropped. This second objective was to deprive him of a stop at Meningie for the addictive pie. We stopped for a break at a monument to the Gold Escort Route. The Geocache Commander and his followers recorded data that was on the plaque because it formed information to locate the nearby cache. We drove off to find it. We stopped on a sand rise and the Geocache Commander and his Deputy fought their way through the scrub at the side of the track and struck out across the paddock, conscientiously following the wavering arrow on the GPS. The rest of us stayed talking on the track, the scrub being too impenetrable for our liking. We could occasionally hear the gallant ones on the other side of the barrier. After a while, finding that they were in a somewhat bare paddock, they gave up and returned, declaring that somehow the information obtained from the plaque must be wrong.
We were
following the Perkins diesel and it was making a supreme effort to have the
fairy dust engulf us. We traversed Mount Boothby Conservation Park and had a
look at Boothby Rocks. There was a swarm of bees in a small ‘cave’ at the base
of the rock. The honeycomb was well formed and hung down about 60 cm. At
Tolmer Rocks we had lunch. Both lots of rocks are outcrops of granite.
We then took the track that ‘bisected’ Messent Conservation Park. Near the centre of this was a swampy area with low scrubland nearby. Someone suggested we might well be driving through the Serengeti in Africa. Denise said “And any minute now you will see the zebra, we have arranged for it to appear.” However we never did see the zebra crossing. We continued on to the nearby Martin Washpool Conservation Park where we intended camping.
We located a campsite and tents were pitched between the wombat holes. The area was scenic and serene. We were in small cleared areas surrounded by gum trees and low scrub.
Stuart, our Trip Leader, and Denise had left home under a cloud in that a family matter might need their attention. Unfortunately this proved to be the case. With some sadness in the group their tent was folded and loaded into the torpedo tube. They departed for home. Our thoughts remained with them.
On Sunday
we left camp and decided to explore the track that continued on past the
campsite. Ralph took the coordinates of camp in case they were needed for our
return. The track was interesting to drive but we were not able to find a way
out of the Park. We did check out some unlocked gates but it appeared they were
either on private property or there were no defined tracks leading from them.
We decided to leave the Park the way we had entered the previous day.
Near camp we crossed a large drain which had been dug to drain water from the surrounding swampy area. (Similar drains have been dug in other coastal areas of the South East.) Interesting to note that there were small fish in the water. Gerry thought there wasn’t enough water for the rubber duck and it was a bit slimy.
Having passed some time exploring we arrived at Salt Creek at about 11.30 a.m. Gerry notched up another pie. We travelled down the old road and over Tea Tree Crossing. Dawn likened it to an airport runway. We checked out the camping area and at 12.30 p.m. announced it was lunchtime. It was a nice lunch spot place and camping area. The grassed area between the patches of scrub resembled the fairway on a golf course. We ate lunch and tyres were deflated. We couldn’t find the 19th hole so we headed for the beach with rain threatening.
We had
checked the tide chart and arrived at the beach shortly before high tide.
However it wasn’t particularly high so we continue on. Several people were
there to fish, though many rods were unattended at this time of day. Any
thought of the rubber duck was not feasible. Three of us wanted to throw in a
line, seeing we were there. However, the rest were not keen and soon won the
day. Two of us had just cast our lines when the rain started, followed by
hail. Our enthusiasm dampened we were soon on our way. A bit disappointing as
the Fish Commander had high hopes that his apprentice might nudge the scales
this time.
After travelling about 12 km along the beach we reached the 42 Mile Crossing and headed for camp. Near camp we took a diversion in the Park and found the mallee fowl nest that Stuart had mentioned. It was constructed partly on the track and had to be driven around. The drain was nearby so we checked it out.
Back at camp we found a few leaks in some tents. Mind you, when the window is left open on the windward side it is no wonder the sleeping bag gets wet.
We spent
happy hour and the rest of the night sheltered under a tarp. There we were, a
bunch of 10 drips sitting under a dripping tarp. However, the yarns were spun
as usual and issues considered concerning the water, food and equipment required
for the future ‘tenting’ trip.
Dean and Jan left early Monday morning. There are some swampy patches halfway along the track on the way out. They had been dry when we travelled in. We wondered what they would be like with the rain that had fallen. Dean radioed back to camp that he had skated a bit and they had seen a reindeer. One must wonder how well he is handling the lemon squash that he now appears to be addicted to. Surely he must have said to Jan “Did you see the rain dear?”
The rest of us departed mid morning and arrived in Meningie for lunch. It was a toss up between the bakery and the Lions sausage sizzle.
I think most of us put out the tents to dry when we got home.
Written by Greg Young
