Tantanoola to Robe S.A

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Waking up in a railway shed was a bit different, just another new accommodation to the strange places where one greets the new day. Annoyingly we were greeted by 6 million mosquitos during the night. With railway shunters beginning work wondering who the cycling vagabonds might be in their work place, we quickly packed up and rode off under threatening skies. A few ks down the road a heavy rain shower was looming, so a nearby bus shelter afforded us shelter from the buses, and a good place to cook up a hot breakfast. While waiting for the rain to clear, passing motorists were seen scratching their heads at the strange men on bikes cooking in a bus shelter. This distraction unfortunately caused them to take their eyes off the road and bump into things. (or not). With patches of blue appearing in the clouds, we soon set off for Millicent, only 15 klicks down the road.

Millicent, an innocuous boring town is famous for one thing, somebody with nothing better to do, had collected millions of shells and decided to create 'Millicent Shell Gardens.' Its a fantastic tourist attraction if you like that sort of thing. "what do you think Colin, shel we have a look", Colin clammed up and showed his pearly whites, and said something about "Shell be right mate!, lets push on". 36ks of tailwind soon saw us enter the town of Beachport, famous for the second largest jetty in S.A at 2,500 feet in length or exactly 772 metres in "New School".

Wanting to crack some big Ks,whilst we had the tailwind, we set of to cycle the 42 ks to the historic town of Robe. Along the way we passed Lake George, our first giant Salt Lake, it had huge salt plains in the foreground with miles of salt water stretching far into the very distant horizon. We took a break overlooking the lake, while we cooked up some tuna and curried rice for lunch. Further on down the road we passed the salt lakes of St. Claire and Eliza. It was mid afternoon when we rode into Robe. Checking out the town and its historical past we learnt that in the 1850's over 16,000 Chinese gold prospectors landed in Robe. To avoid paying the 10 pound landing tax to a Victorian port, they instead walked the massive 320 kilometres over the Vic/S.A border to the Ballarat and Bendigo goldfields, to try their luck.

After another long day in the saddle, we deserved the luxury of the facilities of an overnight caravan park. We set our tents up, and then did the touro rubber neck thing and checked out the historical buildings lining the main street. Dressed in our best evening wear, we found ourselves the very posh Caledonian Inn, an historical hotel, with cocktail bar. We ordered and ate our dinner, Parmy Jarmy, chips and salad, washed down with a good chardonnay and then found ourselves in the upmarket cocktail bar. "I say Colin old chap, isn't that So and So from the Port Fairy Folk Festival over there," Sir Colin looked over his Harvey Wallbanger and replied, "Well Dazz my good man, I do believe you are right," So we picked up our La De Dah cocktails and moseyed on over to their table. Sure enough it was Dave and Cathy, who were hitching their way from the festival back to Adelaide. In my best Casablanca Bogart voice, "Of all the low down gin joints in this two bit town, you had to pick this one! A little surprised, but they soon recognized us, as the bike dudes from the festival. It was late in the evening when Colin and I returned to camp, to rest our weary bodies and grog filled heads.

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