He probably wasn’t an axe murderer.

I mean, skidding into the carpark in a cloud of dust, ‘Uptown Girl’ blaring from the stereo, and parking well away from the only other car in the car park?

Despite my lack of hands-on experience with axe murderers, I was pretty sure this wasn’t archetypal behaviour.

Was it?

But through the clouds of red dust partially obscuring our view of the intruder from our vantage point half way up Wild Dog Hill, I couldn’t help wondering.

Was it just a coincidence that he’d arrived here in the wilds of the otherwise deserted Whyalla Conservation Park car park right after we did??

And apart from listening to an outdated, albeit entertaining, 80’s play list (by now BJ had switched to ‘Call Me’), he wasn’t doing ANY of the things on the Whyalla Conservation Park attractions checklist.

The longer we watched the longer the list of things he WASN’T doing got. More specifically, as Blondie switched to ‘Funky Town’, he wasn’t:

• having a picnic OR

  

• drinking (alcohol or otherwise);
• hunting the elusive Western Grasswren, OR
• trying to spot any other (feathered) birds;
• taking photos;
• checking out the rock formations;
• walking the track around the base of Wild Dog Hill OR
• hiking the 1.5 km loop trail to the summit of Wild Dog Hill;
• reading the interpretive signs about arid land plant adaptation OR
• admiring the diversity of sometimes rare arid land plants in the park; OR
• just looking for wildflowers and rare lichens OR
• Western Myall and Bluebush spotting (Note: sightings of both these arid land plant species in the Whyalla Conservation Park is what’s known as a ‘sure thing’)

Which pretty much covered off on the Park’s ‘Main Attractions’ list!

He also wasn’t

• waiting for anyone.

Other than a possible imaginary friend. Because although he changed into a different T shirt shortly after arriving, no one else showed up.

Which, according to the axe-murderer avoidance manual, was probably a good thing.

Because being the only witnesses to a drug drop or illicit liaison mostly isn’t a story that ends well.

Especially so if you use the ‘I-didn’t-see-a-thing-I-really-only-used-these-binoculars-around-my-neck-for-bird-watching-not-to-watch-you-no-really’ defence.

Only 10 km north of – yes, you guessed right – Whyalla, on South Australia’s Eyre Peninsula, the dirt track from the main road through the 2000 hectare Whyalla Conservation Park leads through a landscape lifted straight from the remote Outback.

That means the public loo in the picnic area, a few kilometres over a rough, rocky road from the main entrance, simulates a remote Outback dunny almost exactly.

So even though Iron Triangle town Whyalla isn’t that far away AND you can see the coast from the expansive 360° view at the top of Wild Dog Hill, the (mostly) trackless arid landscape makes an outstanding Outback outhouse setting.

Plonk an alien (or clueless tourist) down there and they’d think they’d landed on Mars.

But despite its impressive credentials, our carpark companion hadn’t driven all the way out here to visit the loo either.

Because by the time we reached Wild Dog Hill’s summit and Pseudo Echo had switched to (strangely appropriate) 500 Miles, I could see he also wasn’t:

• scenic-loo-spotting OR
• scenic-loo-using.

No, my psychic powers hadn’t turned hyperactive. The only track I could see leading through the scrub from the picnic area was the path to the dunny, and he wasn’t on it.

Besides, the Proclaimers had switched to ‘Reckless’ and if I could hear it from way up on Wild Dog Hill, then it must have been dynamite right next to the car. He sure wasn’t leaving THAT excitement just to take a pee! Or to do anything else other than wander aimlessly around in the scrub near the parking area.

But maybe.  Just maybe he’d seen the empty car and figured we’d return sooner or later. And that’s when he’d make his move!

Australian Crawl faded away behind us as the track led down the other side of Wild Dog Hill and around its base en route to the scenic loo.

And back to the car – tyres un-slashed, windscreen unbroken, locks intact. And ‘All Out of Love’ – possibly the most inoffensive, innocuous, insipid 80’s song EVER echoing through the car park.

It seems our conservation park comrade also wasn’t:

• otherwise indulging in axe-murderish behaviour OR
• interested in us AT ALL.

So OK.

If you’re thinking I’m showing the signs of early-onset (or perhaps advanced) paranoia, just remember that no one thought Wolf Creek was sinister either until the movie!

But as we drove the 65 km back to our campsite in Port Augusta I developed a working theory.

The Whyalla Conservation Park is no Wolf Creek (see link below) but if anything DID happen out there amidst the bluebush and western myall trees, there’d be no one to hear you scream.

Although listening to a few eighties hits might be pleasantly nostalgic, a prolonged overdose in a confined space could easily bring on a screaming fit.

Or worse.

So what’s a not-so-sinister-somebody hanging out for an eighties-music-hit who’s lives in a zero-tolerance household to do?

Yep, you got it.

Want MORE?

• Whyalla Conservation Park
• Things to do in Port Augusta
• MORE Australian Scenic Public Loos
• Wolf Creek

The post Amenities, Attractions and Axe Murderers at Whyalla Conservation Park, South Australia appeared first on Australia by Red Nomad OZ.

Swinging a feral cat ANYWHERE in the middle of South Australia’s Eyre Peninsula without hitting a stony peak, hill, bluff, outcrop, mountain, cliff, dome or rock-face is almost impossible.

Take the small town of Darke Peak – population 50 – for example.

We’d followed the 8-peak Darke Range to the west all the way into Darke Peak township named for – yes, you guessed right, the range’s highest point, Darke Peak.

To the east loomed the great domes of Carappee Hill, the Eyre Peninsula’s highest point at 495 metres above sea-level.

Behind us was Caralue Bluff – an impressive wedge of rock where only a short climb up the base gave even more impressive views of the Darke Range AND Carappee Hill.

Because of the mostly flat country around them, the rocks don’t look very big from afar, but the closer you get, the less likely a stroll to the top seems. Despite enticements like seeing the grave of first European explorer to the area Charles Darke, or standing atop the regions highest point, or finding yet another opportunity to prove I really AM an amateur when it comes to landscape photography!!

Luckily for us, the flat country means the great views don’t require great height.

BUT even more luckily, at the small township of Darke Peak there’s a killer view without climbing AT ALL!

Because THIS little town has a true-blue two-loo view!

It’s also got two pubs. First, there’s the Darke Peak Hotel, apparently first in South OZ to serve Queensland brew XXXX (that’s pronounced ‘Four-ex’ in case you didn’t already know).

Then there’s the Hellbent Hotel right across the road – originally constructed in the early hours of New Years Day 1980 so the locals could continue to commemorate the new decade after the Darke Peak Hotel closed for the night!

There’s no record of what happened to the original, but the Hellbent Hotel was upgraded and reopened for the Darke Peak Legends weekend, 2009.

Perhaps it’s unsurprising that at one time, Darke Peak held the record for the per capita highest beer consumption rate in South Australia.

And with a record like THAT, it’s perhaps also unsurprising that the town has TWO loos!

Right next to the Hellbent Hotel and with a fine view of the nether regions of Erica the Emu (see below), the Colman S**tter (just insert ‘hi’ if you’re having trouble with the asterisks) is a classic example of what happens to old dunnies when they die.

It’s unclear if the Colman is still operational – the tin walls and ‘dunny’ can; the wooden seat; and the ‘privacy’ screen are all classic Australiana of yesteryear – but I’m betting NOT!

Happily for visitors wanting to answer nature’s call, there’s a far more modern alternative a few steps away behind the Darke Peak information pavilion.

Built in the proud tradition of the two giant silos it faces at the Darke Peak railway station, this mini silo-shaped dunny is a masterclass in monastic minimalism, inside AND out. But there’s NO doubt THIS loo’s in use – or was that just me

Darke Peak Dunny #2 isn’t a one-trick pony when it comes to the view. From the prison cell-like comforts of the little silo loo, cunningly hidden under a giant pine tree just off the main road, I could see the silos, railway (complete with train), the Darke Range, the Hellbent Hotel, Erica the Emu, the Darke Peak Hotel and the Colman S**tter.

It just might be the only place in OZ where you get a tour of the town’s main attractions just by using the dunny!

And that trumps visiting a bunch of rocks any day, right??!!

Want MORE?

• Darke Peak
• Eyre Peninsula, South Australia
• MORE Scenic Australian Public Toilets
• My Book: Aussie Loos with Views!

Previous Post:  Why Port Clinton is a TOP Aussie Town!

NEXT Post:  10 TOP Things to do in Port Augusta!

The post Darke Peak and the True Blue Two Loo View! appeared first on Australia by Red Nomad OZ.

The 4000 km drive from east to west is such a LOOOONG way even getting halfway across Australia is an achievement.

Kimba, South Australia

The small town of Kimba, deep in the South Australian Outback on the Eyre Peninsula, leaves cross country travellers in no doubt that they’ve reached halfway mark. If you don’t feel a photo coming on when you reach the ‘Halfway across Australia’ sign, you’ve got WAY more willpower than I!

And depending on which way you’re travelling, just up (or down) the road is the ‘Halfway Across Australia Tourist Gift Shop and Bakery’! Even the most jaded traveller would be tempted to stop here, wouldn’t they?

The Big Galah

Because you can’t miss the Big Galah!

The eight metre*** high statue of this iconic Australian bird outside the gift shop is what’s known in tourism lingo as a ‘sure thing’. By the time you get to Kimba from any direction, chances are you’ve already driven through a whole lot of nothing – with a whole lot more to come!

So the Big Galah**** and the other tourist drawcards awaiting you will likely be an irresistable lure – for the photo opportunities alone!

Where is the REAL Halfway Point?

But is Kimba REALLY halfway across Australia?

It is – at least according to the Half Way sign, the Eyre Peninsula tourist guide and several websites promoting the town and region.  All of these conveniently fail to provide any distances to support their claims. Although the website indicates the measurement to be ‘as the crow flies’**

According to Google Maps the distance from Perth to Sydney is 3934 km by road. It calculates the shortest road distance from Sydney to Kimba at ~1700 km, and from Kimba to Perth ~2230 km. Even taking the longest possible route from Sydney via Melbourne brings the Sydney-Kimba leg to only ~1900 km – still less than half, especially as the distance to Perth then also becomes greater than 4000km.

And while measuring ‘as the crow flies’ would decrease the Kimba-Perth leg, it would also decrease the Kimba-Sydney leg.

Perhaps Kimba is the CLOSEST town to the magic 1977 km half way mark? No.  Other towns of varying sizes between Kimba and the Nullarbor, such as Ceduna, Wirrulla and Poochera would have greater claim to half way honours if it’s a matter of road distance.

So why Kimba? Maybe Kimba just thought of it first. Then travellers, grateful for something to break their long journey don’t question the sign’s authenticity.  OR the inexplicable presence of a Big Galah!

And unless you’re travelling from Sydney to Kimba and back again, you’ll pass the halfway point somewhere down the road anyway.

So lets keep this a secret, shall we?!?!

Want more information?

• The Galah (Eolophus roseicapillus)
• Kimba, South Australia
• Eyre Peninsula, South Australia
• Australian Travel Distances

The post Halfway Across Australia! appeared first on Australia by Red Nomad OZ.