to Eyre is human

The zoo was a great day, albeit punctuated by punctures. I patched 8 of them thanks to Dubbo's abundance of cat-head burrs. So Day 4 began with a trip to the bike shop to buy self-sealing, kevlar belted, bullet-proof NATO standard inner tubes because Rod assures us the burrs only get worse further west.

King Julian

our animals and friends

We left Dubbo late, bound for Cobar, and the planes just got plainer. A sign along the way left us wondering what sort of whisky-soaked, homesick delirium would inspire some mad Irishman to think that a godforsaken speck on this dry, dusty plain bore any resemblance to Tullamore.

the green rolling hills near Tullamore, NSW

Despite the long straight roads and the lack of topography, western NSW does have its good points. When you tire of caravan parks and designated campsites you can just turn left anywhere off the road, find a nice clearing, gather some firewood, roll out you swags and settle down for the night. There really isn't much that can compare to lying in a swag and staring up at a sky full of blazing stars.

The firewood here is incomparably better than the stuff on the coast. Hardened by the tough conditions, just a few branches will cook your dinner and the coals will last long enough that you need only gather a few dry leaves, give some long, deep breaths and you've got a fire for the billy and brekkie the next morning.

Swags were a new experience for the girls, but despite their reservations about waking up to find they were sharing them with a snake, they settled in and were soon out like lights. Actually, Jaz was never really worried because she had a dog, a bear and a white tiger to protect her.

snug as bugs in rugs

Day 5 was also the day when our carefully planned itinerary went out the window. We had planned to spend two nights in Broken Hill, but we decided to cut back to one so we could spend a couple of nights in Streaky Bay. Good thing too, because the caravan park in Broken Hill wanted to charge $50 for an unpowered tent site. This just hardened out resolve to get out of there and avoid caravan parks whenever possible in the future.

On the way to Broken Hill we called Murray and Justine who used to own property just south of Streaky Bay but had recently moved to Port Lincoln. They took the opportunity to abuse us for not visiting them in the 10 years that they lived at Streaky, before confirming that they still had the property there and inviting us to use the house. They also challenged us to visit them in Port Lincoln, which is how, on Day 6, we came to spend 9  hours driving the long, flat and deadly straight roads from the Hill to Port Augusta and down the east side of the Eyre Peninsula.

the road from Broken Hill

the 'shortcut' to Orrooro

the Big Gum, Orrooro

Along the way we had the opportunity to introduce Mallee to mallees. She was very disappointed and complained that they we scraggly and ugly. We assured her that there are many species of mallee, some with beautiful slender branches and vibrant flowers but she remained unconvinced and is considering changing her name to Jane.

one of Murray's pets

Muz and Juz never age but their kids are growing up fast, and had a great time playing with ours. We had a delicious dinner of kangaroo bolognaise, much richer than beef, and the next morning went out to see the highlights of Port Lincoln -  it didn't take long. The drive up the west coast of the Eyre Peninsula is much more interesting than the east. Rolling limestone hills, coastal glimpses, swampy lakes. The mallees have mostly been cleared for cropping where it isn't too rocky, and grazing where it is. The cleared rocks are usually dumped along the fence lines, or sometimes built into the fences themselves. It seems like a hell of a lot of work. Just after dark we finally found the beach house.

limestone wall, Eyre Peninsula

We'll see you when the dust settles.