13 Feb: Portland to Mount Gambier: Hello South Australia!

We left Portland via the scenic tour of the aluminium smelter and the wind farm, tucked away at Point Danger where any nasty aluminium smelting fumes could blow away out to sea. Before we went I climbed the however many steps it was to  the top of the water tower lookout.

 

The ladder was for show only. 

From the top I had my last view of the forgotten ship, all lonely and forlorn-looking, as befitted a forgotten ship.

Watch out for aluminium ingot pick-up thingies.  Look!  There's one crossing the road for reals!

The hunting ground of the aluminium ingot pick-up thingy.

 

Cape Nelson Lighthouse was a bit of an anticlimax, being totally wrapped up in scaffolding and plastic for repainting.

Wedding cake lighthouse.

The Cape Nelson Lightstation cottages are available for accommodation, should one desire to stay there.  Unfortunately this means you can't wander through for a stickybeak.

 

On we went to the Petrified Forest, which was in reality not a petrified forest at all, but gave a very good imitation of one anyway.

 

The Petrified Forest was rife with huge black flies which looked like March flies but didn't bite. They landed silently on any available legs and back, and when the person discovered them a frantic dance of flapping, slapping, and leaping ensued. Having done our round of the Fly Dance we watched with glee and hilarity as other people were initiated. One elderly woman excelled, having brought along a fly switch with which she vigorously pursued her equally elderly husband, swatting all the while at his legs as they both gyrated along the path.

Fly Dance moves.

Petrified Forest colours.

 

The Southern Ocean was as benign as could be, making the nearby blow hole a non event. We watched the waves for a while anyway.

And then, after 7 months in Victoria we said goodbye and re-entered South Australia, bursting with pride because for the first time we had remembered not to buy any fruit which we would have had to ditch at the border.  Roger relaxed visibly as we crossed the border. "Fantastic!" He said. "The weather will be warm now!" I said nothing. Let him have his moment of happiness, deluded as it may be.

After two weeks of traveling we were half way to Adelaide.

This was actually the furthest north we'd been for months.

Just a word of warning to the unwary.  Given the number of fishing boats in all states of repair and disrepair, some people were taking this warning more seriously than others.

Swans abounded in the sheltered waters of Port MacDonell.

Alas, work called again, Tuesday loomed, and I needed a table, a chair, and somewhere to plug in a computer so we settled in to a cabin in the Pine Country Caravan Park, nestled at the bottom of the hill in which lies Mount Gambier's famous Blue Lake.  

Roger quickly turned on the air conditioner. Three hot days were forecast and his love of summer did not extend to actually sleeping in temperatures above 20C.