Double Happy

Sweeping through Ceduna I was elated to find the Oyster Bar, a portable building on the side of the road with seating on the roof and freshly shucked oysters on demand. It was only 10am, but I was up for a round of au naturel. The bitter zephyr that threatened to blow me from my chair on top of the portable as I enjoyed the estuarine vista only added to the fresh goodness. My talent for excess and the view “If something is good, more is better” was again proven to be faulty, when I went the Kilpatrick.

I had dashed through the Gawler Ranges , north west of Port Augusta, with C in January and thought a mission into the remote Mt Ive homestead would be worthwhile. Three hours later I had walked all the walks, brewed a coffee at the Pinnacles, and considered eating lunch from the film crew table at the homestead, and ask for a job holding the reflector. I elected to return to sealed roads for a night at Minnipa, and more lively conversation with retired gentlemen or GG’s, (so a van – road jive for a caravan – alerted me with a sign written ‘Grey Gonads’ on the back).

Resplendent with orange groves weighed down by fruit, and an organic market brimming with character Mildura was crying out for a digital memory. I paused alongside a gorgeous citrus grove. Emerging from the rows, the owner stopped his tractor to pluck warm fresh mandarines and oranges from the trees, escort me to his Korean pickers, and discuss the relative benefits of a roof mounted tent versus a camper trailer. Such warm hospitality found its full stop when his wife appeared to check “on the blonde he was talking to”.

Concerned about border patrol seizing my contraband, I became a whizz at one handed mandarin de-housing and like a two-pack-a-dayer, as soon as one was finished, lit up my mouth with another.

Double rainbows drew me eastward and past halfway.