***Early railroad advertising, Hawker***

Colleen and Bernie organized, for my benefit, a week-long excursion in the Flinders Ranges, a range of smaller but fascinating mountains just north of Adelaide. Stops along the way were identified to take advantage of good coffee (and pastry!), unique sights, and opportunities for them to catch up with friends while I would meet a range of real Australians. This sort of thing is well beyond the normal levels of hospitality, beyond Olympic levels and straight to Australian-level. It was hard to grasp the scale and scope until it happened.

We loaded up their 4WD Mitsubishi Pajero (incredibly common vehicle around South Australia, where they stopped producing American cars many years ago and the only somewhat rare American brand is Ford), complete with provisions for picnics and breakfasts and a few homemade frozen dinners, drinking water (not sure what would be available to us in the Flinders Ranges), and cold weather clothing that we were later very glad to have. Off we set, early-ish one morning; it was in fact the King's Birthday holiday, but it wasn't King Charles's birthday, it was the day the sovereign's birthday is always celebrated.

Adelaide faces due west on the shores of the St. Vincent Gulf, a bay defined by the Fleurieu and Yorke peninsulas. The Spencer Gulf is immediately west on the other side of the Yorke, and the other side of that is the Eyre peninsula. At the top of the Spencer Gulf is Port Augusta, and at the top of the west shore is Whyalla, which was our first tourist appointment. Our purpose was to see the cuttlefish.

Whyalla was the second day’s agenda; we had a day of driving first. At lunchtime we stopped in the Clare Valley, one of South Australia’s umpteen wine regions, and specifically targetted Sevenhills, known not only for award-winning wines but also as a monastery. The complex includes a tasting room, a notable small cathedral (St. Aloysius, I see you there Don Reed), several historic settler ruins and fields of vines to tour, and a beautiful green for relaxing and picnicking.

***Bernie and Colleen love to sing in cave-like rooms, like Sevenhills’ wine cellar***

The day’s drive ended at C&B's dear friends’ place, John and Fran in the Beetaloo Valley. Just west of Port Pirie (on the Spencer Gulf), the Beetaloo is known for beauty and a little more water than surrounding countryside, with high rolling hills and fairly deep ravines. (So much of the world of South Australia, Australia's "dryest state", is about where another few millimeters of water may be found, especially on a reliable basis.) It is at the northern tip of the ridge of hills that define the green Adelaide basin, with its higher annual rainfall and better agricultural soils. In the Beetaloo, dry conditions and Australian scrub species create a beautiful yet slightly harsh environment. Though the outback may look green, that perception is very deceptive and not much can grow there. Only the most tailored species of flora and fauna may survive there, at very low densities per acre, whether wild or cultivated.

John and Fran, like many I've met here, had the dream of a rural homestead. They spent years living in a shed on the property while building a beautiful house stone by stone, and

***A “grass tree”***

maintaining day jobs teaching. We walked their property, saw beautiful country, fascinating plant species (a "grass tree" is a favorite) and washes meant to flood in rainstorms - classic South Australia, I was to learn. We also got to see John's classic car collection, a familiar Model A, unfamiliar Kaiser utility vehicles and a Derby, pristinely restored. A beautiful meal was created by Fran, we played a rousing game of cards and set off towards Whyalla in the morning.

***A rare “Derby”; apparently there are not many left in the world***

On the way through Port Augusta, we stopped so that I could see a small exhibit at a local tourist center. Nearly every town has developed some level of displays regarding its history, a community garden, plazas with memorials to Australian soldiers, some murals and other public art, and most importantly public restrooms. In larger towns like Port Augusta, a service center for the Flinders Ranges towns and other rural areas like the Beeteloo as well as a significant port, the visitors center might include a museum and cafe. This one, the Wadlata Outback Center included high-quality exhibits describing the geologic process of the continent's formation, an incredibly ancient and astonishing story, in conjunction with corresponding Aboriginal dreamings of the places created - just fascinating. The Flinders Ranges are distinctive in their consistently prominent, rocky display of a volcanic layer at their tops, pushed up 800 million years ago by a collision of plates. Some 60,000 years ago the Aboriginal people came to this continent, likely by water. Then, about 30,000 years ago was the era of the Megafauna, or giant animals including early mammals, for which fossil evidence abounds here; that timeframe likely corresponds to the first arrival of humans in North America. People here seem to refer to the Megafauna era regularly as if it were a fundamental part of everyday history, like the Great War; they carry with them the learned ancient history of their land.

***The glass-bottomed boat at Whyalla***

After coffee, my first "quandong" (bush plum) tart and another hour of driving, we arrived by a lighthouse at a rocky shore. Cuttlefish are not a species one thinks of first in wildlife tourism. What I learned from Colleen and Bernie is the cuttlefish come back to Whyalla to breed each year, at a high level of density, and while doing so exhibit amazing color displays. A tourist industry has developed around taking folks out to see the colorful cuttlefish, initially by snokelling, and now by glass-bottomed boat. Despite the wetsuits available to snorkelers, I was grateful to stay out of the water and on a boat on this windy, white-capped 53-degree day. It was a pleasant way to spend an hour, bobbing around a little bay, out of the wind, looking through the glass for the fluorescent coloring of the cuttlefish, of which we saw many. None of my photos did the experience any justice. It was bittersweet to see such beautiful creatures and know they were all at the end of their lives; after this time of mating they pass on.

We next set off to head to Quorn and the nearby Warren Gorge, home of the yellow-footed rock wallabies. My Aussie contacts spoke of these creatures with such affection - "So cute! So beautiful!" - while speaking of kangaroos as a pain in the ass. Perhaps the subconscious attractiveness of the miniature comes into play, as well as the ringed tails. We walked awhile through the Gorge itself, a beautiful ravine ecosystem, with high rocky walls and a base "creek" or wash wooded with large "gum trees" or eucalyptus. We easily found rock wallabies, truly cute, at late afternoon. (Outback creatures are most viewable at early morning and late afternoon, when they forage for food and water after a daytime siesta.)

We rented a house in Quorn for the night at a very reasonable rate. Typical houses in South Australian (at least when not newer builds) have some distinct features different that US houses: no central heating, only "split" or heat-pump units for some rooms, and they may not be used often; bathrooms on outside walls and unheated, with toilets often in separate rooms, largely unheated; chilly bedrooms which have electric "blankets" (mattress pads) on board to warm the bed before occupation, and turning off prior to sleep. Temps in the 40s at night, high 40s to mid-50s in the daytime is surprisingly chilly without any heat at all. Writing this on July 5th, some four weeks later, I was afraid during that time I would never sit anything more than an ice-cold toilet seat in an ice-cold room again - but I did here in Melbourne. Another eye-opener outside of major cities: rainwater collection plumbed into the house and often used for drinking and the primary source of water. (I was afraid to try it but quickly noticed no ill effect.)

Once settled into Quorn, we walked through the dark in what felt like a ghost town - no cars driving by, no lights in windows, no one else out walking, and the wind howling - to the local pub for a classic "schnitzel night". Chicken schnitzel is a staple in every pub and many other places, akin to burgers for the U.S., and this night there were 17 options of topping offered. I chose mushroom gravy, and the "schnittie" was the size of a dinner plate with a side salad made of coleslaw, fresh tomato, pickled beets, and some pasta.

Our road trip days settled into a pattern: breakfast prior to departure, a coffee break late morning, a often-picnic lunch stop in early afternoon, an attempt at a coffee break mid-afternoon (often missed because we weren't able to get to a coffee shop while they were still open), then winter darkness/the end of the business day came upon us and we retired to a rental with kitchen facilities or the hospitality of B&C’s network for dinner.

***The Hawker railroad station, now a restaurant***

The next day, headed for Blinman, we stopped for coffee and an important destination in Hawker, a town considered a gateway and central supply source to the Flinders Ranges. There is no grocery store for miles at this point, so Hawker has a general store that offers the basics in food, hardware and liquor. However, our destination was a painted panorama of Wilpena Pound, in advance of our seeing the real thing.

Hawker is known for its arts offerings, and this gallery is an important aspect of that. Like the Boston Cyclorama's painting of the Battle of Gettysburg, this was a 360-degree, in-the-round painting of the Pound, complete with diorama-like figures and modelling in the foreground. Artist Jeff Morgan has expanded offerings to include other locations in the Flinders plus a sheep shearing event. Throughout the facility are case after case of rock samples from the area and around the world, a preposterous number, as well as memorabilia and a few collectable cars (a theme that repeated in our travels). Quite diverting, especially when you learn that his drive for artistic expression resulted from an event that left the artist unable to fully use his hands.

Wilpena Pound

Next stop: Ikara-Flinders Ranges National Park and Wilpena Pound. We arrived a little too late in the day for the 19-km, 9-hour hike up to St. Mary's Peak for the most epic views, instead opting for a 2-hour hike (including a good number of stairs) to an overlook which was more than enough. Wilpena Pound is a remnant of a volcanic crater, huge and beautiful. It is easy to understand how any peoples, indigenous or relative newcomer, would consider the Pound to be sacred land. Stunningly beautiful.

Blinman

We moved onto Blinman, arriving in a tiny town near dark, and hauling our gear into our host Susan's historic schoolhouse for three nights. It was much colder and drier in Blinman than Adelaide, and the down jacket became a constant, as the schoolhouse relied on a wood stove whose heat did not make it to peripheral rooms. Unusually, the bathroom in this case was reached by stepping from the kitchen out the back door and into/through a laundry room. It was a lovely old, high-ceilinged building though, complete with the chalkboard still in place. Bernie kept the fire blazing, and Susan served us some beautiful soup and dinner, while we were warmed by the company.

Blinman was the site of a rich copper mine during important phases of South Australia's growth, though long since closed. That mine is the center of a tourism strategy for the town, and Susan helped reopen it and keeps it running for historical tours, in addition to her many other responsibilities including the tourist information center. The mine tour, combined with a coffeeship/bakery, a pub/hotel, some historic houses available for short-term rentals, an indigenous art gallery (Wadna), and the many bush walks and natural attractions in the area are helping to keep the town alive. It's all a grassroots effort by residents.

Our first day in Blinman was Susan's day off, so we went on an expedition to Chambers Gorge to view aboriginal rock paintings and carvings. We took Susan's little off-roader Toyota pickup, four wheel drive, more of the rule than the exception in the area.

We bounced 90 minutes on dirt roads to get there, through washed out creeks, past the road grader working to repair the damage of recent rains. Because there is little cell coverage, trucks like Susan's carry CB radios, like I remember my dad having in the early 70s. We drove past some wandering emus, past scenic, treed areas with creeks and free camping, under a sparking blue sky, feeling the hot rays of the sun, and breathing in crisp, fresh air.

Finally, we stopped at a larger, gravelly wash between rocky cliffs and followed it on foot for about fifteen minutes until the markings came into view. Then, they were everywhere, and we followed them until the canyon seemed to end, then walked back noticing the markings on the other side for the first time.

Clearly this was a special place, used for generations. An interpretive sign translated various markings into concepts like initiation, water, shelter.

Driving back at 4:00 p.m. means driving at "'Roo o'clock", and the kangaroos and wallabies will be out and about after being restful and hiding most of the day. It's a dangerous time for cars, as animals will jump in front of a moving vehicle. Here, instead of watching for deer like in the U.S., we watch for 'roos. If you ever drive in Australia and hit a kangaroo, it's important to know that the polite thing to do is to stop your car and drag the kangaroo off the road; don't just leave it there, it's rude. However, if you hit an emu, do not get out of your car. The other emus that were traveling with the emu that was hit will go crazy and be a real threat to you. Important to know.

That night we went two doors down from Susan's to the pub for dinner, and on the way back helped the town bakery load its 8pm weekly delivery of provisions into the back kitchen, because that is what Susan does every Thursday night at 8pm, she helps her neighbors.

Friday morning, we went on the mine tour with Susan as the guide. She and the program as developed are very effective at conveying what was like to be a miner in those times: working by candlelight in near-darkness, surrounded by falling rock and deep crevasses, working from before sun up to after sundown in very dangerous, dusty conditions. Boys started work there by the time they were eleven.

How small is Blinman? This town of 26 people gets its power from three diesel generators, making power is very expensive. At one point in the digging, the miners hit water, and the mine became a water source for the town as it still is today. However, that water is a undrinkable. Hence, rainwater systems in homes.

Our final day in Blinman, we drove west through the mountains to the flat nothing just beyond. There were a collection of towns where a train used to run through before the tracks were relocated in the 1970s. The towns along a highway were barely getting by, but the towns distant from the highway had basically collapsed in terms of commercial activity. There were still houses there and they seemed to be occupied, but nothing else. One town had a very upscale hotel and gourmet restaurant in the middle of nowhere, creating its own destination. Apparently there's enough well-heeled people travelling around the outback willing to drive an hour or three for a fancy lunch or a stay in a boutique hotel to keep a business going.

The stories of hardship when these areas were initially settled are extreme. The investment of years in a life, a consistent difficulty accessing drinking water at 10 inches of rain a year, heat in the summer often over a hundred degrees for extended periods, vegetation which isn't good for much and is far more limited than it appears, and flash floods that destroy everything including the infrastructure that's been carefully built - no wonder so many gave up. Now, the "stations" or ranches are often hundreds of hectares and they need it all to make a go of it. No crops will grow, sheep or cattle are the only options and at very low density - if an area becomes overgrazed, it takes many years to recover due to the slow growth of plants in this arid land.

In our last evening with Susan, we witnessed her negotiating with a visiting retired policeman to provide a home and display his grandfather's police uniforms and gear. Wherever we went, she talked to people about their business and how she could help spread the word and build Blinman’s visibility. Running the information center and the biggest attraction for visitors to Blinman (the mine tour), Susan is a one-person cheerleader for all of the local businesses. Like a Chamber of Commerce, she sends visitors to all of the sights and services. The effort she puts in is well beyond her job description, and she does it for the good of the community. I see examples of such civic investment, generosity and kindness all of the time in my Australian travels - including the many, many kindnesses of hospitality I've experienced.

Leaving Susan's, our trip back to Adelaide leads to Bernie's son's-and-daughter-in-law's farm, for another rural experience and contribution of hospitality. On our way, we passed through Terawie, a near-ghost town where, in 1942, MacArthur stepped from a train and first spoke on Australian soil after a retreat from Bataan.

***The MacArthur monument at the former rail station; MacArthur was forced to change trains there as everyone of the time was, due to a change in rail gauge***

***Empty historic storefronts at Terowie***

The most beautiful porterhouse steaks I've ever seen came, inexpensively, a local butcher shop (yes, they still have those) supplied with local cattle in the town of Oolaroo; we took those to the farm. Coming nearly full circle from the Beetaloo Valley, we stopped to pick up a package from John's friend in the town of Burra, and are treated to a tour of his restored 1860 house with antiques, restored cars (a 1926 Rugby and a 1984 Jag) and a master's garden. Burra is another mining town whose Town Hall is a history lesson in and of itself. We even meet up with John again at a swap meet in Sedan, not far from the farm.

***A sampling from the Sedan Swap Meet***

***Mobile production of espresso-based coffees is everywhere in Australia; I’ve adopted the Aussie “flat white” as my favorite***

The River Murray

The farm is near the River Murray, which arrives in South Australia after a departure fron the mountains of New South Wales and a trip across Victoria that includes the addition

of the Queensland waters of the Darling River, before it spills into the Southern Ocean at Goolwa. With a massive area of tributaries feeding into it, a rain in Queensland could mean a flood in South Australia days later, and the forecasters are able to predict the depth of the flood with substantial accuracy. The Murray in an important source of drinking water in Adelaide, 80 km from Goolwa, and also to Port Augusta 300 km away and many towns in between. It is also an important source to farmers and towns for many miles upstream. With the inconsistency of rainfall across the region, the river's flow is also inconsistent. It is easy to imagine that negotiations over water rights might get heated.

***The “Big Bend” of the Murray - note the arid area on the left and the rich fields on the floodplain to the right***

On a tour of the area, we took car ferries to cross the river in two locations, because the local traffic does not yet merit the cost of bridges. In Swan Reach, we spoke with a local shop owner who was shutdown by a recent flood for three months; the high water didn't last long, but there was no replacement electrical equipment to be had. We also toured a wealthy landowner's estate that was impacted by floods; the same family also owns the pub/hotel, some commercial property, a historic house and a new housing development in town. Different levels of impact.

***The Silver Lea Estate, featuring olive groves***

Bernie’s son Tony showed me how influential the U.S. has been in Australian culture, when he pulled out DVDs of the TV shows of his youth: F Troop, McHale’s Navy, Hogan’s Heroes, all of the usuals. Tony is only a couple of years younger than me, and was watching the same shows in the 1970’s on the opposite side of the globe. That, in addition to the fact that I have yet to hear an Australian song playing in any public place (only U.S. market rock, generally from the 90’s) is shaping a growing understanding that Australia is a blend of England and American influences, as a local literally said to me earlier today.

On this trip, I’ve been on the sea, in the mountains, in ravines, overlooking a volcanic crater, in ghost towns, in small towns fighting for survival, in ruins where families gave up, in prosperous new economy vineyards, in aboriginal holy places, in areas damaged by flood, and more. This introduction shows me that life in rural South Australia pulls no punches.

Coming up: Adelaide and the Great Ocean Road