The Pimple Festers - (newly arrived? You'll get more
out of this is you go back to the beginning… settle in m'dears, this is a long Sunday ramble!)
The next
leg of our journey from the Nullarbor Road House wound round the Spencer Gulf
via Ceduna, Whyalla, Port Augusta and finally down to Adelaide, capital of the
state of South Australia. It was
relatively uneventful, but a notable change came over the countryside. Even though still very remote , there were
distinct signs of civilisation and the sense that one had changed countries
almost. Particularly once the corner at
the top of the gulf is turned and you're headed South again.
We drew
into the main depot pretty much in the centre of the city a short while after
midday on our second day of travel.
There was many a curious stare as the road 'plane roared its way down
the populated streets.
As we
came into the 'hanger' there were engineers waiting to look at the damage. We were only half an hour behind schedule. Eaves-dropping on the discourse
between pilot-drivers and the 'plane doctors, it transpired that the drift of
the steering column meant that a re-route had been planned ahead due to only being able to make right hand turns…
"Strewth, mate, lucky you know this town like the crack at the back!"
said one of the overalls.
It was
a while before I 'cracked' the code of the phrase.
Our
hostel was within walking distance of the bus terminal so offloading the bags
and refreshing ourselves proved to be a remarkably smooth transition. Having scoured the literature at the desk,
decision was made to make our way out on the trams to Glenelg beach. Yes, trams.
The city beach is truly beautiful and we simply sauntered the promenade
- maybe dipped a toe or five - had the obligatory fish and chips followed by
ice cream. The photos from the era will
never win prizes, but memories are authentic.
Finally I am including a couple from ourselves - Aitch screamed in
excitement over the etherlines when she found her album! (See Tuesday's Me-Now-Views for a selection
scanned in from Aitch's collection.)
![]() |
image copyrighted to Ms HMR |
That's me
on the bench after eating and thinking of heading back to the hostel.
For our
one full day we did the obligatory historic buildings, museums and art gallery
run. The Adelaide gallery sticks quite
clearly in my mind for some reason. The
building itself was hugely appealing. I
am sure that Perth gallery was equally impressive, but perhaps because the
Sceptical Tourist Fishy (STF) had by now fallen head over heels in love with
the country, she was drinking up as much of the culture and experience as
possible. The Australian art collection
stays firmly in mind - even now. Would you like a peek? Behave yourselves!
As we
were due to head for Coober Pedy on the next leg of the journey, we decided
also to pay a visit to the Opal 'Museum' - a jewellery manufacturing workshop
with a good informational room on the Opal's history and how to pick one. We took literature to absorb overnight and
went back after breakfast the following day to make purchases.
As Christmas was looming, I bought Aitch a necklace that she liked -
….(confession, Aitch only just reminded me of that because she still wears it!
- but at least that put in place the memory of buying of a ring for myself which I
continued to wear for many years, but aging fingers prevented it of late.)
Then back
to checkout of the hostel and take the luggage to the terminal and ensure they were
booked in for the bus ride.
Now. Pay attention here Dear Reader. You need to remember two things from earlier
in the tale. Our tickets were
handwritten. We continued to wear our
Chinese sunhats. These are important
facts.
![]() |
image copyrighted to Ms HMR |
When
checking in our luggage (airline-style), our tickets were purused and - as we
understood it - confirmed. The girl
behind the counter simply muttered, "See ya at 12:30 then ladies." No worries was the response. STF was getting 'local'. It was 10am and time available to trot down
to the riverside beside the Festival Theatre (see the bandstand in this piccie?
- been there done that!), carrying a slice of vanilla custard in pastry and some milky
drinks. Books and postcards and just
enjoying the view in the South Australian summer.
"OOHH,"
said Aitch finally, "It's twelve o'clock already!" As if to demonstrate the accuracy of my
friend's watch, a local clock tower and several churches all chimed in unison. Lovely sound.
Up we got
and made our way of up the slight, but very long hill back to the terminal.
Just in
time to see a bus drawing out the junction and off up the highway. "Was that our bus?" muttered Aitch,
with something of an edge in her voice.
"Can't
be, the tickets say 1pm". I pulled
them from my bag as we continued walking to the office. Yup.
Definitely 1pm. Walking into the
terminal a group of uniforms turned as one and yelled out "Are you R*****e
and MacLean???!!!!"
This
could not be good.
I will
not bore (or frighten) you with the arguments that ensued, suffice to say that
the young lady who'd checked us in, by saying "see ya at 12:30" was
in fact suggesting to the vague British tourists that she would be expecting to
wave 'goodbye' to us at that time. Had
she continued with the "...so do please be here half an hour before",
no problem. Had she pointed out that our
tickets were wrongly written, no problem.
Had she simply said, see you at twelve…
She didn't.
But let's
cut to the chase shall we?
I do, in
fact, mean chase - as in car. Well taxi
to be specific. Our bags, despite our
non-appearance, had been loaded on that there bus and no way were we going to
let them travel alone. The company was
not inclined to take any responsibility for the errors in ticketing and
advisory, nor were they going to pay costs of said taxi. No wonder they went bust.
Aitch and
I grabbed our day-packs and Chinese sunhats and made our way across to the taxi
stand. The first driver turned away as
we approached. Couldn't look past the
hats, I suspect. The second one said he would not be prepared to risk a ticket for trying to catch up with an Ansett
Coach.
The third
driver was our kinda fella. Of Greek
heritage, there was a bit of confusion of identity going on. He sported an enormous Mexican moustache,
Mexican embroidered boots - with spurs! - and a Texan Bighorn throat lace. He did in fact have the Stetson also - on the
back sill of the taxi. He looked at our
Chinese sunhats, looked at us and asked
our trouble.
"Did
you see that bus leave 10 minutes ago?"
He had. "We need you to follow it.
We MUST catch it." There was
a twitch of the moustache, a glint in the eye and (I swear) a sucking of the
teeth.
"Hmmmm
that could be tricky - it'll be a fair way up the road by now. How far do you want me to take this?"
I looked
at Aitch briefly then spoke for both of us. "All the way!"
"You're
on!"
Chinese
sunhats flung other side of the Stetson and us lodged tightly into the back
seat together, bags on the front passenger seat, off we set at maximum
permissible speed. Weeeelllllllll - I say
that to defend the man. Rather think it
was faster.
We were
actually outside the metro area before we even came within glimpsing the hind
end of the vehicle we were after. The
driver was chatty and clearly this was making his day. Indeed, quite possibly his year. We told him of our trip so far and he
followed it with "Ah well, there you are girls, this is number
three." He was right of
course. Exhaust, steering, now
'bid-for-freedom' luggage!
Driver
Mex had told us that we might not catch the bus much before it's first
scheduled stop at Elizabeth. "How
far away is that?"
We had
already come some twenty kilometres and it was about another five. By this time we were staring at the
meter. This was going to double the
price of our bus ticket! Never mind. The
comfy ride and friendly chatter was okay and shortly after this exchange we
drew up behind the flying coach. Mex-man
began blaring his horn. Faces appeared
at the back and STF leaned out of her window and did her best at
semaphore. Attempts I am sure, which were
pretty good. The receivers were not
working so well. Eventually, we drew up
alongside and gradually (slow as treacle it seemed) came up on the driver's
window. As the horn continued blaring
and Mex and myself did our best to signal the driver to stop, it wasn't until
the driver looked aside and saw the Chinese sunhats that his eyes widened in
recognition. He dropped his window and
yelled across "R*****e and MacLean??!!!"
![]() |
Image copyrighted to Ms HMR |
We were
famous.
He
wouldn't stop till Elizabeth. Another
three kilometres. Oh well. As we drew in to park beside the resting bus
(stopped only for a pickup of passengers) we had to make a speedy
changeover. Now came the sweetest thing
of all. Driver Mex refused to accept
full payment. "I haven't had
that much fun in a decade - I've always wanted someone to say 'follow that car'
- just pay the local city rate."
How much? Less than ten dollars. Now that is service!!! I can report that he did get a return fare to
Adelaide city, so he didn’t have an altogether dud run earnings-ways.
As we boarded the growling coach, we
had to face an altogether different experience.
Come back Wednesday for the next instalment, Elizabeth to Coober Pedy and Alice Springs.
Tomorrow the final episode in teaching the old dog a new trick and Tuesday for more OZ photos and the weekly linky.
Oh Auntie Yam, Mum is rolling about on the floor and holding her sides etc. again tonight. She is loving reading your version of this part of the journey, missing the bus is something she will never forget she says. And she does wear the necklace a lot it is one of her favourites, a perfect present.
ReplyDeleteLove Lady Vicki xxooxx
Hari Om
ReplyDeleteIt was certainly one of the highlights of a tour filled with spotlights!!!! Lady V - make sure mum is sitting on the secure upright chair for the next instalmenat, okay? xx
Oh, what fun, Yam. Wish I had been with you for that part of the ride. I'm sure all taxi drivers wish for someone to say "follow that vehicle"!
ReplyDeleteAnd you look too too cute in the Chinese sun hat.
I just found out from Sir Husband that we are going to Iceland for his 70th birthday in March. I said if he's still alive when I turn 70, I want to go to Scotland.
K
I am th same as lady vickis mum. LMAO. Love this story, and been waiting for it. Even though heard it a few times now. Glad Aitch found te pics. Lovely.
ReplyDeleteHari Om, Yam! Hah, awesome! "R*****e and MacLean??!!!" It's like you're in a DieHard movie! Good job it wasn't that movie where the bus couldn't slow down... Indigo x
ReplyDeleteHari OM
ReplyDeleteKay - That is one episode of life even MENO cannot destroy!!! Iceland y'say? That is a place of fascination and not ssooooo far from Scotland! Now who says you have to wait so long? HMMMmmmmmmm.....
Mahal - all the great tales improve with the telling &*>
Indigo - As I said to Aitch, there is no way I could make this stuff up - and hold that thought...8=|
I remember waiting dutifully at a busstop for about half an hour. The bus came, the bus went and I was still waiting. Even after over a year of living in England I was waiting at the wrong side of the road!
ReplyDeleteFortunately it was only about 5 miles to go...
Hari OM
ReplyDeleteOh dear, Mara, at least you had the excuse of being from Europe. I've done that in OZ with nothing other than a daft head to blame!!