While Not Working

We visited Onkaparinga Gorge, taking a picnic lunch out to the Punchbowl Lookout with a grand view down to the swimming holes in the bottom of the gorge. Children's voices echoed off the rock walls and we had occasional glimpses of teeny tiny people swimming in what I can only imagine was really cold water. I bet that water is cold.   Back at the car park we followed the climbers' track to the part of the cliffs allocated to climbers, most of the gorge being too crumbly for climbers to go up and down willy-nilly. There was even a steep set of steps to allow climbers to eschew having to climb both ways if they didn't want to do so. The steps gave a great view over another part of the gorge and as a bonus we got to watch someone else doing the hard and scary work of climbing      He got to the top safely. I like watching other people work. Or climb, as the case may be. In the spirit of watching other people do strenuous things, the very next day we went to watch a whole heap

I stopped half way up Topps Hill Road, gasping for breath and reconsidering my life choices. A lazy wind went through me instead of around, with occasional needles of rain for extra stimulation. "Why do I do this to myself?" I asked. I was having Type 2 Fun, which is the kind of fun that isn't fun while you do it but is heaps of fun to talk about afterwards. My type 2 fun started easily enough on the trail to McLaren Flat, but I was soon working hard on the long uphill to Kangarilla, dodging trucks along the way. I stopped to talk to a Belted Galloway bull but he wasn't particularly pleased to see me, so I didn't stay long. Smart outfit.  Shame about the attitude. And then I came to Toops Hill Road, and started my type 2 fun. Up. I took lots of photo breaks as I slowly pushed my bicycle up the hill. Nothing to do with the steepness of Toops Hill, of course, just my natural desire to appreciate the view that gradually unfolded as I gained altitude. I could see down

I've been riding my bike up hill and down dale around McLaren Vale.  McLaren Vale is close to the hills and the sea, so there's lots of places to explore. I rode to Port Willunga where forgotten fishermen gouged caves into the cliffs, seeking a place to safely store their boats. There's a sign at the bottom of the ramp to the beach: "Soft Cliffs," it says. "Don't go near the caves. Rocks might fall on your head." Or words to that effect. Just like everyone else has done, I went into the caves anyway. The cliffs behaved and my head stayed intact. I pedaled to Lion's Head, beside rugged, crumbling coastal cliffs.  Despite my bravado at the caves, I'm not a very brave cliff top bicyclist: I walked along the bits where the path followed right on the edge of the cliff although we won't mention the closed path where the cliff had fallen away and I may or may not have walked along there anyway because the detour was long, hilly, and boring. Ingl

On Sunday the 14th the McLaren Vale Vintage Classic rolled into town, raising funds for charities such as Laklinyeri Beach House which provides a holiday space for families of children in palliative care or with complex care needs.  Close to 600 vintage cars rolled down McLaren Vale's main street before dispersing to wineries and cellar doors across the region where food, drink, and festivities took place.  The fleet of vintage Rolls Royce, which would attend the parade for the first time, would be parking at the Tintara Winery which was barely half a kilometre from our front door. Off we went to see a car parade then, leaving the fluffy dog behind to make sad eyes at us through the front door as we left. There were cars of all shapes, sizes, and states of repair: a fleet of vintage police cars; everyone's favourite kombi; big whales of cars so long that they nearly beached themselves on the raised pedestrian crossing; sputtering old things only one internal combustion engine r

If you decide to go to an air show, there are a few things you should remember to do. Thing To Do #1 : Make sure you know how big the Air Show is. We were familiar with the Aldinga Airport.  It wasn't very big.  We didn't think that any air show there would be much to get excited about. "Let's go have a look."  Roger imagined a few plane enthusiasts and the chance to wander around and have a close-up look and if we were lucky we might even get to have a close look at a helicopter. Thing to Do #2 : Ride your bikes to the Air Show.  Both of you. "I'll ride my bike and meet you there," I said. I rode my bike along quiet gravel roads that trended gently downhill, until I met a very long line of cars 3km out from the Aldinga Airport, at which time I began to suspect that the Air Show might be bigger than I thought.  I rode my bicycle along the table drain past all the cars, feeling very superior about being on a bicycle and not having to wait.  Then I had