I Hope You Like Photos Of Ships

I'm very disappointed in Ports SA and Vessel Finder.

I want to know what this ship is doing.

 

Despite the mountains of grain growing on the bulk storage pads, fed by busy caterpillars of trucks and swarmed by pigeons, Ports SA stated confidently that no ship was due in Wallaroo for the next thirty days. Vessel Finder informed me that there was, indeed, a ship in the Wallaroo anchorage but did not hazard a guess as to whether it was coming in to port or just having a little rest before going on its way down (or up) the Gulf.

"It must just park there before going somewhere else," we decided. "Maybe up to the smelters at Port Pirie or Whyalla."

Turn your back for a minute and there's a big ship just out to sea from your verandah.

 

Next minute the big ship was most definitely coming in to port in Wallaroo, dodging the ferry and getting pushed around by an officious little tug. It snuggled up to the jetty and a pall of wheat dust drifted out over the water. The pigeons were ecstatic. Ports SA maintained that there were no ships moored at Wallaroo.

Looks like a ship to me.

 

I worked all day and stood on the verandah in the evening, debating whether I should go in to the jetty and take photos given that we had barely two weeks left in Wallaroo so there would not be many more chances for big ship photos. Roger was no help in my decision making: he had hurt his back and was beached in bed, bemoaning his fate and wondering where he could hire a four wheeled walker. The howling wind convinced me to stay home: it would be unpleasant on the jetty and I expected the ship would be there for a few days anyway, given the length of time that the last one took to get loaded and leave port.

I spent the next day at work with a break to collect a walker from the Wallaroo Hospital. The walker was rented out for the princely sum of $4:80 per week and a very relaxed physiotherapist assured me, when I offered my loose change, that they would send me a bill on its return. Roger embraced both the walker and his inner geriatric, and cracked laps around the lounge room to loosen up his back.

"Come up here!" He shouted down the stairs. "The ship's leaving!"

And so it was, chivvied out to sea by a little yellow pilot boat. Wind or no wind, I should have gone in to the jetty when I had the opportunity.

Bummer.

I finished work and went in to the jetty anyway, partly to get some exercise and mostly to grieve my lost photo opportunities. The jetty was quiet on a Wednesday evening. Three teenagers dangled fishing lines in the water. They weren't really interested in fishing, instead spending their time sharing a large box of hot chips under the watchful eye of squabbling silver gulls. The gate to the business end of the jetty was closed, even though the ship had gone. A little truck was out at the end, doing important things with the grain machinery.

There's a lot of waiting at anchor if you're a tug in Wallaroo.

 

I walked along the beach back to the car, past a mysterious ruined concrete arch half buried in sand and lapped by wavelets. The wind, blowing over the old smelter site, still tasted of copper.

No idea what it was used for, but I suspect it was part of the smelter works given it's proximity to the old smelter site.

 

I went home and checked Ports SA, which assured me confidently that no ships had used the Wallaroo Port in the last week.

Unthinkable as it is that there could be any operator error in my use of the Ports SA website, I came to the obvious conclusion that the Spencer Gulf is inhabited by imaginary ships and the whole thing was, indeed, no more than an illusion.

I'm going to take photos of the Loch Ness Monster next. Watch this space.

Gratuitous not-imagined sunset over Wallaroo.