From Kingoonya we headed east to the Stuart Highway and then a couple of hours north to Coober Pedy. We were happy enough to be driving on smooth dust-free bitumen until a road train blew past and threw up a rock which cracked our windscreen. We knew it had to happen at some point!

Welcome to Coober Pedy

Neither of us really knew what to expect from Coober Pedy. As it turned out, it is one of the most weird and wonderful places we’ve visited. The town shimmers with weird and wonderful characters and, of course, the opals which have made it famous.

The sun beats down, a spaceship lies abandoned in the main street, caravans clog the road and dust swirls all around. On one occasion we watched open-mouthed as a whirly wind lifted a sheet of corrugated iron from the roof of a building and crashed it into the street, missing a parked car by an inch. No one batted an eyelid, so we guess it must happen regularly.

Are we on a Star Wars set?

Highlights included finding an opal in the public “noodling” (read: opal fossicking) area in Jewellers Shop Road (bonus points because Neddy Noodle felt so at home here), the Coober Pedy drive-in cinema (Laura had never been to a drive-in), and the underground Umoona Opal Mine and Museum which was a cool insight into the history of the area and a welcome respite from the sun.

Laura and the Noodle go noodling

Our opal! Photos do not do it justice

We also really enjoyed heading out of the main drag and driving around the residential area. It’s hard to imagine how these little houses (and their inhabitants) can withstand the unrelenting sun and dust day in, day out, year after year. Given the caves remain a comfy 23 degrees no matter the outside temperature, we can see why many prefer to live underground.

Underground abodes

More than any other place we’ve visited, the harsh climate really made us reflect on the traditional owners of the area and to contemplate the connection and kinship the Aboriginal people must have had with the land to allow them to flourish here. Take away the cushiony comfort of our troopy and we know we’d struggle to last a day.

One afternoon we took a short drive north to the Kanku-Breakaways Conservation Park where we enjoyed the most breathtaking sunset of our trip. We made the very most of it, throwing open our rear door and cooking dinner on our little stove as we watched the daylight slip away.

Family portrait at the Breakaways

The land before time

Enjoying the last rays of light

We also had to allocate a portion of our time in Coober Pedy to figuring out what to do about our dead-as-a-doornail inverter, which had given up the ghost on Goog’s Track. After chats with our auto-electrician and the company the inverter was purchased from, it was decided that a new inverter would be posted to Alice Springs. In the meantime, laptop and camera charging won’t be happening unless we stay at caravan parks. Ahhhh damn.

Camping in Coober Pedy

We were doing so well at posting our blogs on time until we got to Goog’s Track. Then it all kind of fell off the rails, partly because we’ve been moving around so much we’ve barely had time to scratch ourselves. It’s a full-on gig, this travelling life – we need a holiday! [Insert the swish sound of us ducking to avoid the abuse you’re now hurling our way.]

In the interim between finishing the track and being late in posting this blog, we’ve written a Goog’s Track how-to guide for Outdoria which covers the ins, outs and all abouts of the track as well as the route we travelled, so if you’re interested in reading it we’ll let that tell part of the story along with our photos below.

The very start

Salt lake vista

Up close and personal with salt crystals

Night one campsite

Not much beats a campsite with a fire

A lot of day two looked very much like this

Mount Finke in the background

Up the goat’s track on Mount Finke

Day three clay pan

A few personalised notes left out of the Outdoria article include just how much we loved the little gecko who visited our campsite on the first night. So inquisitive and so entirely unafraid of us, we couldn’t get enough of watching him lick his own eyeball. Who needs TV, right?

Our gecko mate. Funny little fella

We also probably didn’t emphasise just how much rain we received, despite a promised clear forecast on the morning we left Ceduna. It was so heavy that we had to end our second day of driving early. Whatever our expectations of Goog’s Track, they certainly did not involve rain to the point we could barely see through our windscreen.

Contemplating a downhill dune on day two, rain clouds looming

Another fun little thing that happened was our inverter battery going “pop” and not recovering, even though we’d only had it put in just before the trip. For the uninitiated, an inverter converts our car’s 12-volt power supply into 240 volt, which allows us to charge appliances such as laptops. Until it’s no longer an option you don’t fully appreciate what a luxury it is to have constant power from the “grid”.

The morning of our inverter breaking also marked another milestone of the trip – our first proper fight. As fights usually are, this was a ridiculous one involving a suspected tripped fuse which ended up not being tripped at all and exacerbated by a lack of spare fuses we didn’t actually need. We’ll leave it at that except to say it was ridiculous and strops were had.

In all, the 154-kilometre Goog’s Track took us three days and two nights, and we were stoked to complete it without a single bogging, despite the sandy road and the 360+ dune climbs. There were big pats on the bonnet for Tennyson at the end, followed by a delicious and well-earned drink of diesel (for Tennyson. We stuck with regular human drinks).

The Trans-Continental Railway line marks the end of the track

On our first night out of the track, we found ourselves well and truly in the desert. It was with pleasure we came across a town called Kingoonya, which is maybe a settlement more than a town as there’s pretty much just a pub there. That said, Kingoonya is a great little place which offers cold drinks, meals, a fire and an awesome free campsite with an actual flushing toilet. Bit of a novelty these days, the old toilet – let alone one that flushes!

Next up, Coober Pedy and beyond.

An all-too-common sight in the outback

After crawling out of Eyre Peninsula dunes a few days ago, we were both well and truly desert hacked. Dusty beyond belief, neither of us had any clean clothes, Jono was surfed out, sore and limping from ulcerated flipper sores, reef cuts and unexplained foot rashes, Laura was sporting unevenly tanned hands from long shifts of filming, and Tennyson and Ned were as dirty as they’ve ever been.

That said, the recent days have been an epic time with a truly epic crew and we can’t believe how lucky we are that the stars aligned to make it all so. Even better, we are writing this fresh and clean after recently enjoying our first hot shower in more than 30 days. We imagine the shower drain feels less fresh and clean and will probably remain clogged for some time.

Anyway, back to where we left off on our last post. After leaving Port Lincoln, we headed back in the direction we’d come, stopping in Streaky Bay overnight where we enjoyed a pub feed with Callum, Sam and Cohen. While the town is picturesque and probably has many things to recommend it, Jono’s biggest thumbs up go to the public toilet which he gives a solid 5-star rating.

A photo on the Streaky Bay pub wall: a constant reminder of what lurks beneath.

Who cares about sharks when there’s waves like this breaking?! The cold alone would keep most people away.

The next day, we had a bit of a scare after greedy guts Ned scoffed some of Callum’s out-of-date mince and managed to inhale everything in the packet, which we thought might include an absorption sachet. After Googling the possible ramifications of this and calling the closest vet (located four hours away), Callum had the genius idea to call Coles and ask what they put in their mince packets.

Luckily for Ned, and for us, it was just some kind of wax paper. So, rather than taking an extremely long drive in the wrong direction, we were advised to keep our eye on him for any signs of ill health, none of which appeared. As Jono always says about Ned, “if you’re gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough”.

We also actually thought about taking Callum to a health and/or psychiatric specialist after he knowingly ate mince patties bought four days previously and left unrefrigerated in his car thereafter. He claims to have guts of steel and we guess he proved the truth of this since no ill effects appeared for him either. Perhaps the Ned saying applies to both parties.

Not a bad spot.

The how-to of wood hooking. Thanks Callum for the photo.

From Streaky, we headed into the dunes where we spent eight amazing days chasing swell, meeting awesome people, listening to Callum rap by firelight, marvelling at Sam’s battered old Camry as it slithered around putting 4WDs to shame (and only got bogged twice), pissing ourselves at Cohen when a mistimed breeze and broken tent flap caused him to wee all over his sleeping bag, spotting dune cats, shnacking, day trips, stargazing and so much more.

Wake up and check the surf.

Photo of a photo.

Laura on the job. She is wearing five layers and three hoods.

Desert tracks.

Jono on one of the bigger waves he has ever caught.

Ned had an excellent time making friends with other crews and would routinely disappear to their campsites for pats and treats – he ate better than we did! He did disgrace himself on one occasion when implacable hatred for his nemesis, the drone, whipped him into such a frenzy that he gave Laura a fat lip.

The lads.

Waves for days.

On Sunday, after the boys had one final surf in a continuously barrelling 4-6 foot lefthander, our time together was up. A quick photo and footage swap later, we all said our farewells, parted ways, and the three of us beelined for a dog-friendly cabin in a Ceduna caravan park. Here we’ve spent the last couple of days showering, cleaning, doing laundry, washing our car etc. etc. Next up, the Googs Track and beyond!

We want to know …

Our fourth week on the road – also our third on the Eyre Peninsula – has been one of bad weather, epic sunny days, catching up with old friends, boggings and chasing waves. Pretty much all the usual ups and downs of life on the road.

After the most amazing sunset on Thursday night, we spent Friday hiding in the car at Drummond Point while wind and rain gusted. Thankfully, Ned was so worn out after a few days of full-on activity he was pefectly content to chill. In fact, every time we let him out of the car he’d cower so pathetically (he hates wind) that we’d take pity and let him back inside.

One day in the car was more than enough and we were stoked to wake on Saturday to amazing warm sunshine. We made the most of it by airing our bedding over bushes and enjoying pancakes at our five-star car brekky bar. Right around the time of the full moon, Jono also gave an unsuspecting ute-full of guys a moon they hadn’t bargained for when they drove past our campsite just as he was standing butt-naked in the sun. To Jono’s credit, he didn’t run for cover when he realised what was happening but instead remained frozen (he says “dignified”) until the ute disappeared from sight.

After Jono was finished flashing strangers and we had packed up our camp, we headed north to Elliston to catch up with a couple of mates. First up was Neil, an Elliston local who we bonded with on our last trip over our similar vintage Olympic caravans. Then we watched Callum – one of the three Tassie boys who we know and love for their fondness for frothing, frothies and schnacks – play in a local AFL game. It was cool to see such a big turnout in such a small place.

That night, Callum took us to a local roadhouse which is a real icon in the area. A fire took the edge out the freezing chill in the air, the owner kept us entertained with a running commentary and we all marvelled at Heidi, a rescued baby wombat whose mother had been killed by a car. Hats off to Bel who is doing an amazing job of looking after her around the clock. Fun fact: in the absence of their mother’s milk, a baby wombat’s beverage of choice is reduced-fat soy milk. How hipster.

Heidi the wombat

Shout out to @barbershopmedia for letting us stay on his land one night

Eyre Peninsula dune hangs

After nooking into a good camp spot in the dunes, the next few days were a blur of surfing, or, in Laura’s case, taking photos and filming, chores (there’s always so much that needs doing when you’re camping!), and freezing evenings spent sitting around a campfire. Crews came and left, but there was always plenty of legends to have a chat with.

In there somewhere…

On one day, after we’d fed a few of the boys some leftover pancakes (yes, we eat a lot of pancakes!), Callum told us we were the “mum and dad of the campsite”. It was a bit of a slap in the face to realise we are the oldies but we take heart from the fact that he at least didn’t call us “grandma and grandpa”. Maybe we’ll graduate to that by next trip?

We spent one arvo on the beach with Callum, Sam and Ollie who fished while we walked Ned in the dunes. We were pleased it only took us ten minutes to lure Ned away from racing between them, chasing their lures. Unfortunately, Ned’s fishing etiquette has not improved since our first trip.

Twilight fishing – pre-bogging

While trying to drive off the beach, Callum’s ute got bogged in the sand and it took a bit of digging and the use of our MaxTrax to get him out again. We thought we might get bogged ourselves, and so were happy when trusty Tennyson managed to get out of there on the first go.

With the forecast looking distinctly average for the next couple of days, we made the call to backtrack to Port Lincoln to wait it out and replenish our supplies. Laura took the chance to get a filling and we spent tonight at a local pub showing the Tassie boys just how good we are at pool (read: not good at all).

No Jonoisms to report this week, although he did get very excited about a “shooting star” which he watched for 30 seconds, and then a minute, and then longer before conceding that, yes, it may have been a satellite.

Laura’s wallet-slash-phone almost came to a nasty end after it fell out of her pocket and into a deep hole which she had filled with something we won’t talk too much about. Barely able to bring herself to view the carnage, she clamped her nostrils firmly closed and peeked in with just one eye – and could scarcely believe the wallet/phone had somehow lodged in the corner of the hole, just one centimetre above the steaming contents. Pockets are now always zipped closed.

Also, no Eyre Peninsula shark stories to relate (hurrah!) although there have been a couple of heart-in-mouth moments which ended up being dolphins, seals or things which remain unidentified but at least didn’t bite anyone.

The locals dropping in

Nervous moments

Hot showers have still not been had. Send help. Or Gernis.

Our last post finished up at Moonlight Bay on the east coast of the Eyre Peninsula, just north of Port Lincoln. We stayed there a couple more nights, enjoying all it had to offer – which was plenty.

Ned enjoying Moonlight Bay

As well as ocean views, dolphins and seals, on the Friday night, we also spotted what we – applying our extensive knowledge of the universe and interplanetary behaviours – can only describe as a meteor.

A fiercely bright, orange light whizzed across the night sky before flaring, breaking in two and fading away. It was spectacular and we can’t help but wonder if our star-gazing has peaked very early on in the trip.

Staring at each other in silent amazement in the seconds following, we were very quickly brought down to earth again, when, out of the corner of her eye, Laura spotted another movement.

Somewhat smaller in scale than the intergalactic pyrotechnics just witnessed, this action turned out to be a scurrying mouse heading directly for the troopy. Tiny and cute as it was, Laura felt little desire for it move in with us and so headed it off in an extremely graceful manoeuvre which definitely didn’t involve knocking over camp chairs.

We thought this was a good chance for Ned to show his worth. After 10 minutes of us pointing and shoving Ned in the direction of the mouse, he finally caught a scent and sat dutifully at the wrong bush until bedtime. We don’t think he would survive in the wild.

The meteor and the mouse also coincided with a rather momentous occasion in our own puny existences in that Laura awoke on Friday to her final uni assignment results. She is officially going to graduate. Woo. Hoo.

A cheers to graduating and the newly-born Forrest Hollonds

On Saturday evening with the wind picking up and major storm clouds brewing, we made the call to pack up before going to bed so we wouldn’t have to deal with wet stuff in the morning. We were running out of food and water, and so a trip into Port Lincoln (the Eyre’s largest town) was required.

Port Lincoln

In Port Lincoln we achieved many of the fails we always manage in towns: getting lost, turning up at places before they’re open, after they’re closed, or on the wrong day all together, going shopping and forgetting what we need only to remember after we’ve left that we wrote a list etc. etc.

However, we did also wash our car, get it serviced and the windscreen checked for leaks, launder our clothes, and from Vinnies purchase a mixing bowl to replace the one we recently broke and buy Laura an awesomely bright shirt. Win.

Oh, and we can’t neglect to mention Jono’s overly enthusiastic purchase of a bargain-priced family-sized custard tart (“it’s only $4!”). It took just one slice for Jono to realise just how much tart he was in for. To his credit, he did get through it (Laura helped out with a couple of pieces). So far on this trip we’ve not wasted or thrown out one skerrick of food, which is something we want to continue.

Before Jono realised the level of tart ahead

A big night in Port Lincoln with our big screen

It was also while in Port Lincoln, wandering the streets with Ned waiting for our car to be serviced, that we finally christened our troop with a name. Everyone, meet Tennyson. Troopys have their own kind of poetry.

Tennyson, son of Russell

Drummond Point

From Port Lincoln we headed north-west to Drummond Point where we overnighted on cliffs overlooking a wonderful sunset.

We also just about wet our pants laughing on the way in, when, in his haste to be first out of the car, Ned vaulted into the front and somehow landed face-first between the two seats and got stuck. We really can’t do the scene justice but suffice to say we’ll never forget the sight of his wiggling bum sticking up in the air.

Waking with the sun at Drummond Point the next morning was our first proper realisation that we are camping in South Australia in winter. Yes, Laura has already been wearing about five layers a day plus a blanket as a skirt over jeans, but this was the first morning the cold really slapped us around.

Hard to leave a warm bed

The wind stung our eyes and burned our faces and made our hands so cold they hurt. Getting dressed hurt, packing up hurt, jamming our fingers hurt much more than usual. And when things wouldn’t fit in their places, Jono snided Laura’s shoes, and then his ears hurt because she got the strops at him. But all was ok once we’d defrosted. Then it was time to find Jono some surf.

Desert style

We headed into some sand dunes and in our enthusiasm to reach the waves, immediately got bogged like the city gronks we are. Then followed laughing, digging and tyre deflating which, happily, didn’t take too long.

Pulling up at the water’s edge where Jono wanted to paddle out, no one else was there. The combination of freezing water, stabby rocks and lack of people to share in the white pointer lottery (no way was Laura joining him on that shallow reef break) meant that some amping was required before he felt ready to go in.

So, while Jono watched the waves, Laura took advantage of the sunny weather and made French toast, a batch of burger patties, and chia pudding. She also made a huge mess. Getting used to our kitchen layout is definitely a work in progress.

By the time she was finished, Jono was suited up and jittering about. After being shown the ins and outs of the camera set-up and forcing Jono to listen seriously to her instructions (scan water constantly, double-arm wave = “get the hell out of there”), she and Ned watched nervously as Jono paddled out.

Thankfully, no sharks were spotted, although an enormous pod of dolphins swam past, some of whom came right up to Jono and jumped out of the water just metres away.

Laura and Ned were very glad when Jono returned unscathed. The next morning, they were confused as to why he would go in on his own again (in a wet wetsuit, no less), on an overcast, even sharkier looking day with much less favourable wind.

As the not-so-favourable wind was set to continue, we decided to pack up and head back to Drummond Point for a few days, which is where we are now, bellies full of burgers and having witnessed a gorgeous sunset.

Spot the tiny Laura

No Jonoisms to report this week, probably because he’s been too full of tart. Laura has made peace with the fridge and is happy to say they’re getting along quite well. As for showers, our last hot ones took place in Melbourne and are but a distant memory. Two weeks and counting, folks.