Driving from Coonalyn to Tailem we pass kilometres of burnt scrub on either side of the road. This definitely is a country of drought, fire and flooding rains. We have to constantly watch our speed. The GPS tells us when we go over the limit, but there is always the fear of being fined. It's so easy to plant the foot when you have a wide open expanse of bitumen, no other cars in sight and many kilometres to go before you get to your accommodation for that night.
Back in 1974 we never had to worry about speed. Our F100 ute and old renovated pickup camper with bulky Luton overhang couldn't speed if our lives depended on it. We bought the pick up camper through The Trading Post, knowing it would need a lot of work before we could take it away. My Dad and several farmhands manhandled it onto a flat tray trailer from its resting place beside a dam at Kurrumburra. He and Alan worked on it every night for months, attaching hydraulic legs, and fitting a larger water tank. They made extra cupboards and added a tiny fridge. When opening the door I had to be ready to catch the two eggs which consistently fell out of the egg rack. Dad and Alan also installed a pump for the sink while I sewed curtains and bed covers.
Our motel tonight at Tunundra has all mod cons. I told a man we were heading for Port Augusta the next day.
'You won't want to stay there long', he said. I agree with him. If my memory is correct Port Augusta is a place to buy provisions and leave at the first available opportunity. However, I simply nod and decide to wait and see.
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