9/10/21 Bicycle Tourers and Lost Boys: Port Lincoln

Sunrise from our camp at Port Lincoln Caravan Park.  Rain was forecast: once again the weather did not comply with the BoM script.  Showers came and went but barely interfered with our day.

Tourer Tim came past as we sat in the camp kitchen, boiling the kettle for our post-cereal and pre-toast cup of tea.  His departure was delayed by a flat tyre.

"Join us!" We said. "Have a cup of coffee and a crumpet with golden syrup." It was about time we had a chance to pay forward all those kettles other people had boiled for us." Don't mind if I do", said Tim, and we spent a very pleasant hour or so drinking tea and coffee and swapping cycle touring stories and tips. 

Eventually Tim had to fix his tyre and we had to go do tourist stuff, so we all said farewell and went on our separate ways.  After checking out downtown we finished off a bit more of the Parnkalla Trail, this time on foot.

Views from the foreshore: wheat loading facility and recreational boats.

Found me a $1 coffee and a stall selling baked spuds, and all with a pretty seat to sit on.

Pelican incoming!

Razor fish are actually a mollusc which have a sharp edged shell and can be buried in the sand.  Hence the need for shoes when you go paddling.  Not that he's in any danger of going paddling any time soon, given the weather and his thin Queensland blood. 

We found the business end of town: canal estates with endless tuna, crabbing, and other industrial  fishing boats lined up in the canal.

Spotter platforms.  I can only imagine how cold and conducive to sea sickness it is up in one of these on the Southern Ocean in the middle of the night.

It's a nice boat.

We had dinner that night in the camp kitchen which was sheltered from the wind and had a view out over the caravan park. The evening's entertainment was rich and varied:

Act 1a) Small boy wanders past, peers into the camp kitchen and shakes his head. Keeps wandering.

Act 1b) Mother strides past, glancing wildly in all directions. "Are you looking for a little fella in denim shorts and cap?" I ask. "He went that way."  Mother races in that direction, calling Lost Boy's name.

Act 2: Three Buff Young Men appear to barbecue their fresh fish. They punt a football around while they earnestly discuss the merits of various seasonings and cooking methods, followed by deep discussion of how best to clean the BBQ plate to spotlessness. Buff Young Men exit having seamlessly punted football throughout.

Act 1c) Big brother runs past calling Lost Boy's name. Lots of people are running around calling Lost Boy's name. This is getting worrisome.

Act 3: The Oldies barbecue their dinner and settle in for a long chat with beer and wine. They turn the TV on to a Harry Potter movie and then ignore it. We shamelessly eavesdrop on their conversation (or what we can hear of it over Voldemort's posturing and increasingly frantic calls for Lost Boy). In this way we learn that Port Lincoln Bakery has the best pies on the Eyre Peninsula, and someone's grand daughter just did a poo in the toilet ("Grandad is so proud of you, Sweetie!").

Finale: The Oldies sweep away for cheese and chocolate in somebody's caravan. A shout of "I found him!" echoes across the park, causing a collective release of held breath and a scolding for Lost Boy, who didn't realise that he was the only one enjoying the game of being lost. We turn Harry Potter off and the camp kitchen is blessedly silent.

Breaking the silence, the sound of a single mosquito signaled an incoming squadron. We quickly took evasive action, aka getting into that tent as quickly as we could and not coming out until morning.

 

Gratuitous pretty flower just for fun.