What To Do Instead Of Housework

Roger was glued to the laptop in a marathon effort to clock up his Professional Development hours by Professional Registration time.  I could have stayed home, watered the plants, done the laundry, and vacuumed up all the dog hair. Mind you Big Fluffy sheds like an autumn tree, so I could vacuum dog hair until it came out of my ears and still have more to do, rendering that option unpalatable. In a fine example of avoiding housework and leaving Roger to get his own cups of tea, I hopped on my bicycle and rode to Milang instead.

I went the long way round, partly because the long way round was (hopefully) more interesting and had less traffic, and partly because I was foolish enough to turn a 20km cycle into a 40km slog into a headwind.  But there was less traffic, so that was good.

I passed the disused railway turntable on the way out of town.

Riverside Road followed the Angas river which was buried in a deep channel, festooned with the remnants of summer's scotch thistles.

The Angas River, behind a defensive wall of dead scotch thistles.

South Australian scotch thistles are much bigger than Queensland ones.  You could still carefully tear off the needles and poke someone with them should you be overcome with sadistic desires.  Not that I would ever have done that to my siblings as a child though.  Of course not.

 

In what was to become a bit of a theme on this ride, I passed farms with fine collections of vintage machinery.

In no time at all I was passing the Belvidere Winery, shortly followed by the Belvidere Memorial Hall, where I stopped and searched unsuccessfully for a tap.  Not that I needed water, but if I had needed water I wouldn't have got it at the Belvidere Memorial Hall,  which is a good thing to know for future rides.

Barely had I left the Belvidere Winery behind when I entered the Langhorne Creek Wine Region (I know it was called this because a very large sign told me so) with wineries popping up right, left, and centre, all vying for my attention.

Wine, chocolate, and coffee?  Lucky I am a responsible bicyclist and don't drink-pedal or my ride might have taken a little longer.  I sent a photo to Roger anyway, just to let him know of all the possibilities he was missing out on.

Someone had planted a climbing rose at the end of every grape trellis.

I gave in and had a coffee in Langhorne Creek.  It wasn't quite as fancy (or expensive) as the ones offered by the wineries, but it was cold which was what counted.  Just in case you were wondering, there are no taps in Langhorne Creek either which is very annoying if you don't want to buy water.

I followed the Lake Plains Road toward Lake Alexandrina, having some fanciful notion that this would be a quiet little tootle beside some lakes.  Which it was not.  There were trucks.  Thankfully the trucks all turned off half way along, and I had peace and quiet for the remainder with just the odd wake-up-call when caravans refused to share the road with me and I had to depart the bitumen for a brief gravel sojourn.

Another winery.  This one was very business-like and had a big chimney.

It was a very pretty ride.

Another farmer's shed, another vintage car...

...and a tractor or two.

Finally!

I was very happy to see Lake Alexandrina, because I could turn toward Milang and convert the head wind into a side/tail wind.  The lake appeared in small glimpses, hidden behind reeds and wetlands.  Pelicans patrolled overhead in pairs and ibis congregated in waterholes.

Ibis, when not being bin chickens, are very clean and white.

I was very happy to roll into Milang and go for a little wander around town while I waited for my chauffeur Roger to arrive.  Milang is a pretty little town on the shores of Lake Alexandrina.  It has a caravan park which came complete with bicycle tourists for me to chat to.  There were a fine selection of multi-coloured fishing 'shacks' in the old part of town.

The Milang Railway Museum sat up on the hill above the jetty, boasting of the opportunity to drive a train simulator had I been there in opening hours.  

The Milang hotel also sat up on the hill above the jetty, with a broad view out across the lake from the very comfortable verandah, and a tasty Friday special of fish and chips.  "Shall we?" Roger and I said to each other.

"We shall."

Very nice it was too. 

Even better, we ordered just before the 37 Harley Davidson motorcyclists wandered up from the caravan park for their Friday fish and chips, thereby placing the kitchen under stress and prolonging the wait times for food.  They arrived just as we finished our meal, so we rolled our barramundi-filled selves back to the car and headed for home.

Today's tip is twofold:  don't expect water at Belvidere and Langhorne Creek, and if you are in Milang on a Friday the fish and chips are worth it.

Bonus bird of the day: Long Billed Little Corella.