Point Gibbon to Wyalla
The wind had howled all night. One nose point outside the door told us it was at least minus 86 degrees on the Queenslander temperature scale. There was however not a cloud in sight.
G kicked the day off splendidly with a massive slurp of my coffee instead of her tea. As the first female chair of the Avid Coffee Haters Collective, the face she pulled was the funniest thing I had seen for quite a time.
Our extended walk on the beach amongst the brown seaweed, followed by the same in the soft sand hills was indeed decent. The time watching sea birds of all sizes doing all sorts of things took our interest. The ‘beach scooters’ as we named them were the best. About the size of a small budgie in black and white, their ground speed was phenomenal. They just needed a V8 soundtrack to go with them and it could have been a grand prix.
We had intended to stay at Point Gibbon all day, but the rising wind changed our minds. It was increasingly cold. It was destined to be mixture of rotten and worse for the duration. We packed up prior to heading into Cowell. Our time there was limited to say the least. It appeared that only the chemist was open on a Monday. When the Eyre Peninsula tourist brochures mention ‘sleepy little seaside village’ they mean it. This place definitely snores.
The road to Wyalla was eventful only to the extent of nearly being hit by Henry and Mavis travelling at 40 km/h then trying to execute a turn across our path. Certain death avoided; we arrived in peak hour at the Wyalla Foreshore Van Park.
In an effort to get set up quickly, thereby helping the overall arrival efficiencies in a very crowded area, I wound down chassis stabiliser leg in a hurry. I’m not sure whether it was my not insurmountable strength or the fact I committed the cardinal sin of not having a second hand on the winder, but it flew off at speed continuing its rotational path straight into my mouth.
Instantly blood dripped to the ground and filled my mouth. It hurt like hell providing great viewing for those watching I’m sure. I was instantly glad I had not visited the dentist for over 25 years as the immense plaque build-up had set a strong foundation for my teeth. They had copped a big whack and somehow didn’t chip or break.
We did a bit of running around town for bibs and bobs. G got her nails done, I rounded up some gas and toilet treatment before heading back to the van to be greeted by new neighbours with a beautiful 13 week old Kelpie pup. Not sure who was more excited to say gidday.
Our afternoon walk was out to the Whistling Jetty. It is a cool structure with two big round sections in the middle that whistle when the wind is strong enough from the right direction at the right time on the right day if you are right lucky. We are still listening.