From Coober Pedy south to Port Augusta

The corrugations wouldn’t let up until we had left Mabel Creek Station, leaving us with just 46kms to do to Coober Pedy, on good gravel. The landscape, becoming gradually more and more harsh, gave up all pretence at vegetation and turned into a stony desert NASA might have familiarised its astronauts in. How refreshing it was though, to rediscover our vertebrae, one by one. Within moments we were shelving our recent crossover memories and scanning the horizon for signs of opal workings. The country for miles around Coober Pedy is shaped by hand; piles and piles and piles of cone shaped mounds, gypsum pale against the otherwise reddish brown dirt, piles that are testament to so many individuals who have turned this place into gruyere. Don’t go wandering off, there are no fences!

We felt duty bound to spend a night in Coober, and certainly the washing machine at the park got a good workout. We downed a half metre diameter pizza at the park cafe, to the accompaniment of the only Olympics TV watching we had. Wasn’t that a blessing. But which pharmaceutical company sponsored the Jamaican mob? Of course we did the tourist bit and went through an old mine, complete with underground household and all the modern conveniences. However our thoughts were firmly on the remaining road ahead so we left CP after one night and aimed for Port Augusta. The Stuart Highway runs through country more desertish than the Anne Beadell, past dry salt lakes. On the way Woomera has some interesting recent rocket range history so we diverted briefly, and fortunately as it turned out, because we were able to purchase the last copy they had, of Len Beadell’s video. As Woomera was LB’s HQ it was a neat conclusion to see the museum there, with footage and photographs of that period. The township is now being revitalised by miners and police.

One of the fascinating things about this travelling is the people you meet. At the Port Augusta caravan park there was a fellow on his own, Toyota Land Cruiser WA registered and an old camper trailer rather worse for wear. Helen said to me, “that chap has a tale or two to tell” and went to chat. Within the hour we were hearing his extraordinary story against adversity, featured by George Negus on one of those “Australian Story” type of TV shows. We saw the DVD! Phil McFarlane is a VietVet, owns 45,000 acres just north east of Perth. Crushed by his rearing horse after being spooked by a snake, his hips, legs, one arm and all his rib cage broken. Spurred on to crawl over a kilometre for help, with the thought of his unborn child firmly in mind. His wife goes into a psychiatric home and he is cared for by his two young sons. His leg gets infected, and after 41 operations and eight years of pain he begs them to take it off. Now, equipped with the latest hydraulic self adjusting leg, he goes about his farm business without a problem and with an amazing attitude to life.

We both enjoyed a morning at the Australian Arid Lands Botanic Garden, particularly the Eremophila walk, and were interviewed by the volunteer brigade working in the Nursery because they were interested in our recent crossing of the Great Victoria Desert for their newsletter.

Leaving Port Augusta we turned inland away from the main highway, and climbed through the Horrocks Pass, up into the South Flinders Ranges. Here all was green and lush after long awaited rain in SA.