Beachside Villages and Sunken Ships

From Aldinga Beach you can see the Fleurieu Peninsula which, at the end of winter, sports a coat of bright green grass. Steep little valleys cut down to the sea through the rumpled hills, and at the end of each valley dangles a little beach, tucked in between headlands and cliffs. From Aldinga Beach we can see the gravel road to Myponga and, if you squint, there's Carrickalinga, Normanville, and the pine trees lining the road from Normanville out to the Hobart memorial where the road takes a hard left and leaves the sea to head up into the Fleurieu hills.

Of course you can see Myponga, can't you?

 

We went for a drive to the Fleurieu on a bright sunny day with an icy wind, following the road to Myponga across the open shoulders of the hills. 

Sheep grazed happily, oblivious to the wind.

A farmer did farmer things with a tractor, no doubt taking for granted the stunning backdrop to his everyday chores.

With squinting, the chimneys of the Port Adelaide power station were just visible on the horizon.

See the chimneys?

They had a nice view.

Myponga, picturesque as it was, didn't have a lot going for it in the day-tourist (or any tourist for that matter) department. There was one public toilet and a boat ramp with a rusty red tractor ready to bring boats in and out when the tide was low. The cluster of houses ranged from the old and dilapidated through to brand new with lots of colourbond steel and glass. I suspect less than half of them were lived in full time.

Village of Myponga.

Further down the Fleurieu, Carrickalinga hung in limbo at the northern end of the beach while down at the southern end Normanville had all the fancy things like shops, a post office, and enough coffee and bakery goods to entice tourists to stop and spend their money. Feeling sorry for Carrickalinga, we stopped at Carrickalinga Point lookout for Morning Coffee although seeing as we brought our own thermos I doubt that Carrickalinga benefited from our stop. On the rock below us two little girls happily swam in the way-too-cold water, periodically plastering themselves across the dark rocks to warm up in the sun.

Exploring.

Coffee time.

 

I walked along the beach to Haycock Point, to my delight finding abalone shells washed up in the hiss of sea foam at my feet.

 

At Haycock Point I met Roger, leaving him on the beach and taking the car down to Normanville before walking back to meet him. The beach was sheltered and warm, the tide low, the waves polite and mild. It was very peaceful walking the beach. Meanwhile Roger was forced to take off his shoes, Carrickalinga Creek being too wide (3m!) and deep (10ish cm!) to leap across. Buoyed by his brave fording of this river, he kept his shoes off and walked barefoot the rest of the way dodging, so he told me, flakes of ice shed from passing icebergs calved in the depths of Antarctica. 

"I survived!!"

I don't know if you've noticed, but he exaggerates sometimes.

We treated ourselves to lunch at the bakery in Normanville. While we sat in the sun a man came past and gave us a pamphlet which implored us to seek the truth, of which he obviously considered himself a custodian. He didn't talk to us though, so his truth-telling was not particularly effective and Normanville had lots of rubbish bins for the disposing of unwanted pamphlets.

From Normanville we crossed the Yankalilla River and, escorted by pine trees, drove beside the sea to the HMAS Hobart memorial. Not to confuse things too much but there were actually two HMAS Hobarts, the first was decommissioned in 1947 after seeing extensive operational action in WWII.  The second served in the RAN for 34 years and saw action in the Vietnam war, including being badly damaged when mistakenly attached by an allied aircraft in 1968.  HMAS HobartII was decommissioned in 2000 and sunk in Yankalilla Bay as a dive wreck.  The anchor from HMAS II points out to the wreck from the memorial but the wreck itself is too far out to sea (20km) and of course underwater, so there's not a lot to get excited about when you line yourself up with the anchor and look out to sea..

Anchor of HMAS II.

South along the peninsula, a  fishing shack tucked into the shelter of the cliffs.

 

By the time we had learnt all about the HMAS Hobart I & II it was time to go home and let the dog out for his necessary visits to the back yard, so home we went and let him out we did.

  And that was the end of that.

Just a little more Fleurieu for you.