5/1/21 Strawberries and the Seaside: Adelaide

I spent the morning in the Adelaide Hills, enjoying the benefits of the Green Valley strawberry farm, where the strawberries journeyed directly from the paddock behind us to our plates, via a little processing in the packing shed and cafe kitchen. The sun shone, the grass was brilliantly green, and the dam below the cafe was full of water. A fire fighting helicopter caused brief concern as it clattered overhead, but a quick check reassured everyone that the only fires about were controlled burns, and the consensus was that the helicopter was merely practicing for the coming summer.

I've resisted the temptation to post food photos, but here we are.

Stuffed comfortably full of pancakes and strawberries, we headed back down the hill to Marino, where Roger dropped me and my bicycle before he went home.

Marino is at the southern end of Adelaide where the Hills, on their South Easterly trajectory, meet the sea. South of Marino are lumpy things like headlands. North of Marino are the shared pathways of the Adelaide foreshore: flat and wide with the sea to the west and a breeze that varies in strength but is almost always from the south. Sculptures invite viewing along the way and at comfortable intervals ice cream shops invite indulgence. Cycling north along the foreshore is a very nice way to spend an afternoon.

South toward Marino rocks.  Over the other side of theheadland is the beginning of the Coast to Vines Rail Trail which, as the name may suggest, travels from the coast up through the vineyards to Willunga.

North toward Port Adelaide and the Outer Harbour.

I stopped at every jetty and walked out to the end.  Lots of people were out to enjoy a warm Friday night and the chance for their first swim of the summer.  Families clustered around fish and chips, fighting off clouds of seagulls.  Groups of youths performed intricate courting rituals which varied from splashing and screaming (younger) through posturing and shows of bravado such as jumping off the end of the jetty (slightly older) to actual conversation and sidling closer and closer on the sand.

Brighton Jetty.  This was the fisherman's jetty, everyone madly casting in lines and no one catching anything.  Children hung precariously off the end, looking for a seal.  By the smirk on their father's face I suspect there may not have been a seal, but the possibility of one gave him precious child free moments in which to fish, and the risk of someone falling into the not-so-deep blue sea was obviously worth it.

Little wheels beside big wheel, Glenelg.

Glenelg Jetty: the jetty of walkers.  Everyone was very businesslike, getting their constitutional in.  All the action was on the foreshore: the ferris wheel, a wedding, and of course the ice cream!

Glenelg from jetty.

Just up from Glenelg I found the Patawalonga Boat Haven, at the mouth of the Patawalonga (I love that name!) river, where there is...

...a lock!!  I found this quite exciting, although nothing was happening at the lock when I went through.  I was especially happy that I could walk/ride across the top of the lock while all the cars had to take a big detour somewhere else.

The excitement continued as I crossed the mouth of the River Torrens, the watercourse on which Adelaide is built.  You'll notice it's always referred to as the 'River' Torrens.  This is because, should you not be reminded, you are at risk of not realising it is a river and instead thinking of it as a creek, a gully, or a trickle of water.  This would be a grave mistake to make and may seriously affect your chances of ever being accepted as an Adelaidian.

 

The sea nibbles constantly at the beaches.  This results in endless dredging sand from one place and putting it in another place, which provides frustration for those who wish to loll on the beach in the sun and enormous satisfaction for those who wish to play sandcastles, hide 'n' seek, or chasey.

Sculptures with sand dredging beyond.

Grange Jetty.  Rain was forecast for the next day, and the clouds were moving in.

Deeds of derring-do and bravado took place at the end of the jetty, crab pots flying into the sea on one side and boys on the other. 

The shining sea in Gulf St Vincent.

I came past familiar territory at Semaphore and then Port Adelaide, although coming over the bridge gave me a different perspective on the lighthouse and the steam tug.

Street Art, Port Adelaide.

I returned home to rapturous welcome from the dog, which thought I had gone forever and was glad to be proven wrong.