There’s a work ethic we affectionately dub “The CARE Factor” in all walks of life. You see it in the private sector, but more predominantly in the government run, insulated from the real world kind of workplace. It stands for ‘Cover Ass, Retain Employment’. Hence, the Department of Conservation’s range of Risk Warnings that we encountered throughout Western Australian.

This way, if you fall, trip, go near a tree, go on the beach, go near the coast, get near a bee, climb just about anything, take your vehicle on their land, explore a cave or even let your dog near the bush (this won’t happen to us), or even look at the land in their care – they won’t be to blame. And I bet they sleep well at night because of their signs. Soon enough, they’ll have us all staying at home. Then there might be a House Risk.

By the way, there were more – like “Gorge Risk”, “Beach Risk”, “Climbing Risk”. You get the idea.

South Australia has its own version of the Devil’s Marbles. It’s called Murphy’s Haystacks. Right there in the middle of the fields of wheat are these weird pillars of granite. There’s a detailed geological explanation for them, but I’ll just leave it at weird pillars. Easier.

Murphy’s Haystacks

It was now a howling northerly, which of course is a warm wind, and that means the flies will be there with you. I still wonder how they weren’t blown away. Anyway, these rocks were very cool.

Murphy’s Haystacks, again

I took rather too many photos of them, and this is just a sample. But you have to see them, seeing as  they need to shared.

Harry in a wind tunnel

Where there’s a photo of Harry, there’s a photo of Ferg.

Fergus with a big door knob

And seeing as I was amongst the rolling fields of wheat, with itchy eyes, in a howling wind, I thought I’d make the most of the photo opportunity.

Most of this region is cropping country, with a few places running sheep. The wheat fields go right to the coast. It doesn’t seem right to see wheat so close to the ocean.

The flies came along to our next stop for lunch at Port Kenny. Now this is not a happening place. Feel free to skip Port Kenny if you come this way, unless they tart the whole town up!

This covers everything in Port Kenny

We entertained the idea of a bush camp near Venus Bay (population 20) but with the wind still blowing, we settled for Elliston, a little further south.

On the way we went via every beach, headland, lookout, coast drive and cliff top. We went to the Tahlia Caves and found this great windswept coast.

The windswept Eyre Peninsula

Nearby, there was this big rock that the boys rolled over the edge into the sea.

Glad I’ve been feeding them well.

Can you believe it? We woke to a perfectly still morning. Of course the flies liked it too, but you just have to deal with that. Here’s how Streaky Bay looks on a calm day.

Streaky Bay under a grey sky

Beautiful, isn’t it?

We packed up to head down the west coast of the Eyre Peninsula. First we check the surf break at Granites, and I’d have to say I’ve never seen John untie the boards from the roof any quicker. The ocean was glassy and the waves were sweet.

The car park was full, but that means there were only about a dozen others going for the same wave. They were mostly in the ‘old dude’ category, and they weren’t the cranky locals John had back at Cactus. It was even sunny sometimes, but the sky was menacing with the wind to come. If this had been at home, there would have been 60 guys on the water.

Here’s a few shots from the morning.

And sometimes it was not a pretty exit off the top of the wave.

This is the ‘head first’ re-entry technique

And I’m adding in Ferg’s favourite tube ride.

Fergus and Harry took most of the photos, but also entertained themselves on the granite boulders along the shore.

The wind eventually changed and spoiled the party. John was the last one out of the water, and we were the last car in the car park.

No one in their right mind would enjoy a day with this much wind. But we don’t have a caravan to hide inside, so we went in search of a protected bay for a dive. We drove here and there, round and round, and were about to throw the towel in when we found a wave to surf in Sceale Bay (pronounced scale). The wind was still howling, but the dunes protected the water just enough to make it a sure thing. I even went for a swim! I have no photos of this beach, as the sand was bound to have seized up my camera. And the flies. Have I mentioned the flies? They are having a bumper breeding season. They love getting inside your glasses. They stick like glue. They are in plague proportions. We are not enjoying the flies. Just had to get that off my chest.

We came back for a customary late lunch and the boys retreated to the kids’ games room, which was behind a flyscreen. John and I stood knee deep in the knee deep water, as you would expect, where the flies don’t go. Streaky Bay is one very shallow bay, and it must be a good 500m till the water gets past your knees. So we just stood there, yacking with a lovely Nomad from Shepparton.

It was time for action, so the boys took the kayak out and paddled off for a dive. I met them down on the jetty in town. They collected 4 razor fish. These are a weird kind of mollusc, in a fan shape, about 25-30cm long. You crack them open like a scallop or a mussel, and the flesh is quite like an abalone. John cooked up the small harvest in garlic and oil, and it was yummy!

After all the awful wind, I had quite forgotten to get anything out of the freezer for dinner. Oh dear. We had to go to the pub for dinner. It was a lucky thing that everyone coped okay with that.

There was much chewing of the fat today, as the wind blew away any chance of a good surf. Or any surf, actually.

Surf Patrol

Here at Cactus, they say you come for a day and stay for a week, or you come for a week and stay for a day. The thing that makes Cactus different to the others is the set of rules that Ron uses to run his place. There are no surfing contests held here, no commercial tours, no professional photography or video, and nothing to be published about the surf here on the internet – or anywhere else. This means that over the past couple of decades, Cactus is much less spoken of, and perhaps much less visited. I think the locals like it that way.

We moved on today, in search of more fun. We passed through the Quarantine Station at Ceduna where we had the remains of our fruit and vegetables confiscated. At least we knew it was coming this time. Although there’s not many opportunities for fresh food shopping on the Nullabor, so we didn’t have much left anyway. Ceduna marks the end, or the beginning – depending on your personal compass, of the crossing of the Nullabor. We then headed south down the Eyre Peninsula to Streaky Bay. This is about 110km from Ceduna where the landscape is primarily rural cropping.

There’s just the one caravan park in Streaky Bay, so we picked that one. By the time we had our lunch, the Grand Final had started, and by half time it was not very interesting. I think all those expensive flights and all those cars full of Western Australians will have a rather quiet journey home. So we jumped in the car to explore the region.

Smooth Pool – looking not very smooth

We drove around the area, including Cape Bauer, The Granites (where there was no surf), Point Westall, and Yanerbie Beach.

From Yanabie Beach towards Cape Blanche

We made our way back to Streaky Bay where the local fishermen were cleaning their fish on the beach. I should mention that the politically correct term is ‘fishers’ not fishermen. It might take me a while to get used to that.

Pelican’s dinner time at Streaky Bay

The pelicans were well fed on fish guts and scraps today. They wanted to eat Harry too.