After five months back in Adelaide, the Marshies were again mobile, and believe me it could not have come soon enough for both of us.
This is not to say that we did not have some marvellous times during our stay. Social events and meals with good friends, a wonderful Xmas with our relatives, a sister's 50th, and the marriage of your scribe's younger son were highlights.
The Matron plied her profession back at The Memorial Hospital for the majority of this time....she needed the mental stimulus and the extra money in the coffers did not go astray. We did take a mid-term break however, when we spent most of February on wonderful Yorke Peninsula, firstly at Point Turton and later Port Hughes. At both spots the garfish were generally co-operative, and we returned to the 'big smoke' with fine fillets in the freezer.
But by 1 April it was most definitely time to be back on the road......not that we went far for the first two days.....all of 57 kms to the cattle and cropping property of close friends near the town of Meadows in the western Mount Lofty Ranges.
Here we set the van up on one of the driveways between the huge implement shed and the old property homestead
where we had delightful views over the property
and the congregating cattle as they assembled for a morning munch on succulent silage.
Two other close friends travelled up from Port Elliot to join us for the weekend. 'Sibo' and I go back to 1979 when he joined the group I trained as the first SA Surf Lifesaving helicopter rescue crew. Much later, he and his wife, together with our Meadows host and yours truly all sailed together as part of an offshore racing crew on another mate's 50 footer. We have had some very interesting times together (to put it mildly) and we are all extremely good friends. This was a weekend we had been very much looking forward to.
By prior arrangement and general acclamation (read here 'let's get him to do the cooking!'), Chef Pierre was pressed into action to prepare the evening BBQ. First step, the now renowned caramelised onions and potato mixture. But, dear reader, do you notice something most odd...jeans....long trousers no less! Yes, it was nippy to say the least but with a fine red wine in one hand and tongs in the other, the chill was soon forgotten.
In short order we were gathered around the dining table for what turned out to be one of those marvellous evenings which can only eventuate as a result of long and fond associations, shared effort and achievement, and genuine mutual respect. What a wonderful way to begin our 2017 adventures.
Our Port Elliot friends departed early the following day leaving Duncan, Johanna and us to continue the festivities. 'Happy hour' can be enjoyed anywhere, but is particularly pleasant in a cosy dining room with the fire cheerily blazing in the grate and fine cheeses and white wine on the table.
After another wonderful evening we awoke to mist on the meadows
and a country breakfast complete with the early morning sunlight streaming in through the windows.
A pat for my little canine mate Boscoe, one of the world's great 'character dogs',
and it was time to hitch up and be on our way. What a simply marvellous weekend this had been, but the Siren call of the highway was becoming ever louder. The small Murray Mallee town of Lameroo was in our sights.
This was to be a relatively painless reintroduction to life on the road, a mere 195 kilometres. And there is a bit of story behind this choice. Many years ago, when we set out from Adelaide on the first day of our itinerant existence, we had planned to spent that night in Lameroo. That was Plan 'A', one which was stymied when we found, on arrival, that the park was absolutely bursting at the seams.....we later discovered there was a country music festival being held at the time and there was definitely 'no room at the Inn' (we ended up in Balranald.....so much for a quite day!!)
But this time, as we drove into town
and pulled up at the town hotel to pay our dues, we were relieved to hear that things were not busy this time around.
How true this was. Lameroo Lakeside was all but deserted.
But this time, as we drove into town
and pulled up at the town hotel to pay our dues, we were relieved to hear that things were not busy this time around.
How true this was. Lameroo Lakeside was all but deserted.
We virtually had the pick of the place, and chose a grassy site with a nearby tree which provided a good measure of afternoon shade.
Our chosen site also had us close to the very well maintained amenities, where en suite facilities of a high standard are the order of the day.
Once settled, it was off to briefly take in the town. As this shot shows, this park is true to its name...'Lakeside'.
On the road leading out of the park we found a large shelter shed and public BBQ's which those camping here are invited to use. We had no need on this occasion.
In small country towns throughout the country, favourite sons or daughters are oft displayed with pride in prominent positions. Lameroo is no exception with this large billboard which proclaims to all and sundry that this very well known songstress of yesteryear was born here. (she was good!)
We wandered on down the highway, past the imposing bulk of the Lameroo grain silos
to the Lameroo 'CBD',
with its large and inviting park occupying the other side of the road,
before ducking into the town 'local' once more, this time to quaff an ale or two with the locals before heading back to the van for tea.
But before I could sit down to a fine evening meal, there was work to be done. A warning light on the dash told us that our fuel filter was awash with water. Fortunately ridding the system of this unwelcome fluid is one mechanical skill I have mastered and, since our visit to Gladstone Toyota last year, I can even reset the pesky warning light (something which has cost us dearly in the past when having to pay to have it done).
We retired for the night rejoicing in our re-acquired freedom and after sleeping the sleep of the righteous, we were off again first thing in the morning, eastward bound on the Mallee Highway, through the potato growing town of Parilla
with its unusual and entertaining town sign,
and on to Pinnaroo, the last SA town we were to see for quite a while.
With but less than another 10 kms behind us we crossed our first State border for this year. There would be more to come today.
With a break planned for Ouyen,
we motored through the sleepy main street of Murrayville without stopping.
An hour or so later, with to oddly named towns of Underbool and Walpeup in our mirrors, we found ourselves on the outskirts of Ouyen
and in no time flat were reducing speed down the approach to the corner park
where I pulled the Cruiser to a halt and we both stretched our legs on what was a welcome break in our journey of 280 kilometres to our destination of Toolybuc.
Ouyen lies on the intersection of the Mallee and Calder Highways and negotiating the correct way out of the town and beyond can be a little tricky for the uninitiated, but we had been this way before and we soon well on our way further east,
firstly through Manangatang
and, some 45 kms later, Piangil, where both town signs let us know we were well and truly in the Swan Hill region.
Just beyond Pinagil, the Mallee Highway (the B12) which, from here, swings northward to Balrandald, intersects with the Murray Valley Highway (the B400) which runs from Robinvale in the north along the river until it joins the Hume Highway near Albury. For us it was a left turn for today, although on the morrow we would have to revisit this short section en route south to Echuca via Swan Hill and Kerang.
In no time we found ourselves driving past the tall timber of the river valley trees
and onto the old, single laned, lifting bridge over the River Murray at the oddly named town of Tooleybuc. As we crossed the bridge we had also crossed our second State border for the day....we were now in NSW.
Left past the unmissable Tooleybuc pub
and another 300 metres or so, and our trusty electronic navigator loudly announced "you have reached your destination". Thanks Ken, we knew that!
The entrance to the small (but lovely, as we discovered) Tooleybuc Caravan Park is a little challenging,
and as we pulled up at the quaint park office, our most obliging and welcoming hostess told me that I would have to continue on through the back of the park, out onto the next street and enter our allotted site from there.
No sooner said than done. In I drove, to take up our position
on a lovely patch of grass under shade cloth (something we've not encountered before) right next to the amenities block.
We could not have been happier. After the Black Panther had explored his new territory and we had satisfied the pangs of lunchtime hunger with a quick repast, it was off to explore the park and our surrounds. Tooleybuc proved to be a real surprise, but that's for the next offering.
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