Murphy's Haystacks, Streaky Bay and Nullus Arbor

Whilst in Alice we picked up a book called "Are We There Yet?" by Alison Lester. It's a kids book about another family of 5's trip around Australia. It has become our new guide - everything they've been to see is now on our must do list and Murphy's Haystacks was one of these. They're not actually haystacks but some Irish harrowing fanatic made some elusive comments as to the benefits of harrowed fields and noted these rocky outcrops on Murphy's field many years ago - suggesting their presence was due to the farmer's excellent harrowing - essential for the growth of hay. Seeing how it all fits together? The haystacks are actually what are called Inselbergs or "rock islands" which are due to hard exposed granite around which erosion of softer rock/ soil has occurred and left them towering over the ground in different shapes and sizes - all quite impressive really and worth a visit. We got carried away a bit and tried to record our upcoming video of Caravan of Love - our traveling theme song - while standing atop one of the boulders. I think we managed to entertain or amuse some passers by as they seemed stopped in their tracks for the duration of our assault on this pleasant acapela song. Cole gave it the heavy metal touch, whilst Aidan sang out loud and proud and added actions fitting the verses as best he could. Piper merely attempted to climb up the rock, eventually requiring Jen to give her a boost. I was the camera-man and did my best to capture the scene - not sure what will make it to the video, but we'll see as we go. Having had our fill of these odd shaped pillars we trundled off on the dirt road to Point Labatt - thinking loosely of beer (Labatt's being a standard Canadian beer not unlike VB - one for the masses) but moreso of the sea lions touted to be holed up there. It was actually quite a trek and the prize fairly unfulfiling - another tribute to the journey rather than the destination. Back at Streaky Bay I managed to get some woeful aged shop attendant who'd had a hundred packs too many of cigarettes, guide me through the intricacies of setting up my fishing 'rig'. Rod, hooks, sinker and bait in hand, the kids and I headed to the beach to attempt some casting into the shallows with the hope of bringing home a whopper for dinner. 10 to 20 casts of the rod later, I'd managed to go through a good portion of the bait which seemed to fall off as I flung the line over the water and caught the smallest fish (a sardine) you've ever seen. I think it was simply fortuitous anyway as the hook was through' its gill and not its mouth. Needless to say - after enjoying the little sprog's company in our pale for a few minutes, we granted it its freedom and wished it well on future endeavours. For dinner we'd planned a seafood feast and had a plethora of tastes from our visit to a seafood merchant in Port Lincoln and our dozen or so oysters from Sheringa - unshucked. We'd bought the necessary tools and giggled a bit about the different connotations of 'shuck' - as you do - and got to business. The task wasn't all too hard and I managed to successfully open up a dozen without impailing myself (the leather glove came in very handy!). What can I say - I'm a bit of a shucker!

In anticipation of our long drive across the Nullus Arbor or treeless plain - as it has been nomenclatured - we'd copied Bill Bryson's - Sunburnt Country onto our ipod and had finally gotten organized to plug it into our stereo in Bessie. I'd read it the first year we'd been in Oz and recalled it being a riveting read. Now that we've lived here and are far more knowledgeable about this 'land of Oz', his rantings and sensationalisations seem a bit over the top. He comes across as a mellowed John Malkovich, with a similar sounding voice and enunciation, vearing towards pomposity and a hint of gaiety. His weaving of the story is quite titillating though and Jen and I were indeed entranced for each of the many five minute segments the kids would allow us to listen uninterrupted. It was somewhat surreal hearing him relate his experiences on the Indian Express (Ghan) crossing the Nullarbor just as we were making the same journey. As you enter onto the plain you also side-step the Great Australian Bight - a cliffed wall of limestone which looks on maps as though some massive monster of the deep has taken a large bite out of the continent. From May to October you can watch the Southern Right Whale make its annual journey across the Bight so unfortunately there were none for us to gaze upon but we enjoyed the saunter out to the walkways that have been placed to stop unwary travelers from falling off into the brink. Making reasonable time, we managed to make it across the remainder of South Australia to the 'Border Village' - not a village at all really - more of a Quarantine area to stop elicit substances - ie) honey, veggies or fruit from being brashly exported into the protected confines of WA. I have to admit I am a bit remiss at understanding the necessity of such bureaucracy - as a true blue conspiracy theorist I think Coles and Woolies is worried about their market share and has hankered down the government to force naive pro-veggie and fruit travelers to throw out perfectly good cukes and taters grown outside whichever state one's entering so that the exact same bunch can be repurchased within the new borders . Realizing we had to either consume or toss our beloved fruits and veggies en route, we feasted through the afternoon, remembering that if an apple a day kept the doctor away then perhaps 3 or 4 would  make us superhuman or at least super-colonic! After the strip search at the border of WA we eventually sidled up to Euchla and pitched our camp - ready for a few more days of treeless plain onwards towards Esperance, Wave Rock and eventually Perth.