Friday 21st November - Coffin Bay

Well we celebrated Sue's birthday this morning and Sue had a few calls and texts to mark the occasion as well. So we packed our little trailer and tootled off towards the North West. We got around two corners and over a small rise and we spotted some black swans - well we had to stop for those - Sue used her bird camouflage technique and went to creep up and Mal sat down to run off a quick sketch of the area.

Back on they bike we were off and running until we got to a small sign saying coffee - yep it's the small pub not far from a lake - this place is not ruined like a lot of country celebrity pubs (I won't name them because you will know the ones I am talking about) this place is great - someone has painted portraits of a long line of local dogs - they are all named and all very individual. The pub doubles as the post office and the local farms come in to get their mail from some knocked together pigeon holes with the family name above. The local State School also painted part of the wall back in 2005 so it is a real local watering hole - I asked the lady behind the counter where the water comes from to fill the lake. She sort of rolled her eyes, thought for a while and said, "I dun really know!"

We had barely turned the wheels and we both spotted a most regal tree standing in a field - so Gertie grabbed the brakes and we walked back to gork at this beautiful old tree - dead as a door nail, with branches that gracefully stretched towards the ground but with her head still held high against a blue sky with clouds raked by an old Zen monk.

We found a small line on the map that lead down to the coast and so we trundled down in third gear, each curve and crest unfolding a sensuous country landscape of wheat fields embellished with lines of dreamscape distorted trees.

At the coast we found a great camping spot amongst the vey dreamy trees and set up camp on a headland that sits at least 150feet above a curving white beach where a soft swell caresses the shoreline.

In the evening after we were tucked up snug in bed, a line of storms came grazing across the night sky, lighting up the clouds with fireworks but little rain and even less wind. We must have had five during the night and one was rumbling away to the North East even after the sun came up.

Saturday 22nd November

Well after a big night of storms we both slept late so it was 8am before I ventured out to put on the billy for a cuppa. We spent the morning dodging odd raindrops and finally Sue was able to check out the local birds and Mal to continue working on a sketch of one of the fascinating trees where we are camped.

The clouds cleared away after lunch and we had a cool breeze from the West.

In the afternoon we relaxed and Mal went back to his tree and a rondaevue with the setting sun while Sue stayed out of the wind and did some long overdue reading.

The wind died away in the evening and we had a very restful evening.

Sunday 23rd November

We got off to a slow start and we were not ready to ride off till 11am - as we attempted to find our way back to the highway we found that we were probably not at Coles Point, but somewhere near by. We stopped several times and on one occasion we rode down a country lane between large gum trees and the parrots were flitting from the trees as we slowly passed and then the gums gave way to an avenue of very old pines, thickly covered with pine cones and it was as iff some swaggie from the depression was giving us a guided tour - he told us how he would lite a camp fire by the roadside to boil his billy and where the old stone cottage stood where now only sheep stand at the open door way, there he had sought a meal in exchange for cutting the lady of the house's firewood.

Now it is just the ghost of the swaggie who lingers, everyone else has moved on but the pleasant memories still haunt this quiet lane.

We found the bitumen main road and we still had 95km to Elliston - but of course we had to stop a number of times where the salt lakes and marshes carved picturesque shapes in the bright sunlight and for lunch we were overlooking a bay of turquoise waves breaking to a white as pure as the whitest clouds. There we sat and looked down from on high as the surf taunted the cliffs to send down more fodder to be ground into sand.

Elliston is not a pretty place in my opinion - it has a large open bay with small rocky headlands like miniature versions of Sydney Harbour, with a bar of breaking surf. There is a long jetty which protrudes like a thin tongue into an open mouth at the mid point along the beach.

The caravan Park is very well kept and the manager very friendly. So we put up the tent and Sue throws some loads of washing into the machines - the day has turned gusty and coolish but not cold.

Mal works on the correspondence andf has a pleasant chat with Tahnee and Sue does the same with sister Alison.