Evil Snails

And The Quest For Coffee In Kadina

If I was a snail in South Australia I wouldn't haul myself up onto grass stalks and bushes and glue myself there to dry out in the wind and sun. I wouldn't cluster on rocks in dry paddocks and set out to traverse the sahara-esque wastelands of gravel roads where I would grind to a halt in the dust and stay there to make a satisfying pop! if someone should run over me with a bicycle tyre.

I'm not a snail, thankfully, although I did run over a few lot on the way to and from Kadina on my bicycle this morning.

I didn't set out to ride to Kadina and back. I thought I might just ride in to Wallaroo to get some fresh fruit but one thing led to another, I stopped here to photograph that,

I detoured to look at an old building or two, I explored a road I hadn't previously ridden, and before I knew it I was halfway to Kadina on the Copper Coast Rail Trail and I might as well continue. So I did.

Back in the 1860s the ore was taken to the Wallaroo smelter by horse-drawn trams. The horses struggled to pull the ore up this hill. No such struggle for me, I was full of beans today.

theRotary Club kindly provided shelters and information boards all along the Rail Trail. There were posts to tell you how far you had come or how far you had to go, depending on whether you were an optimist or a pessimist.

Of the three towns (Kadina, Wallaroo, and Moonta) that comprise the Copper Coast triangle, Kadina is the largest and also the business hub, with important shops like Woolworths, Subway, and Kmart Lite. By the time I got to Kadina I had drunk my water and eaten my (boring) snacks and thought I might just partake of the cafe scene in Kadina. I kept my eye out for outdoor seating, advertising, and all the clues that usually point to somewhere that a cyclist can get a nice pot of tea and maybe a vanilla slice aka "snot log" (I'm learning how to speak South Australian). I'm partial to a good snot log.

Just a quick pose with the May Queen (not to Cornish/Welsh heritage there) and then I'm off to find a cafe.

Alas, my quest for coffee was fruitless. Kadina was entirely bereft of open cafes, the only options being Subway or the BP $1 coffees and those just don't count as coffee even if you're desperate, which I wasn't.

I pedaled up and down deserted streets littered with closed cafes. Everyone was at Woolworths buying their groceries. Downtown Kadina was a coffee desert.

While I was looking for cafes in Kadina and getting terribly disappointed, Google told me that the North Beach Kitchen in Wallaroo was open until 4pm, which was exciting because I was beginning to think that the North Beach Kitchen never opened and was really just a cruel hoax played on the coffee-seeking persons living in the Copper Coast Marina. "I'll ride back to Wallaroo," I said to myself. "And I'll stop at the North Beach Kitchen and have lunch. It will be lunchtime by then."

I started riding back to Wallaroo, and because I couldn't possibly ride back along the rail trail up which I'd just ridden, I struck out across the wheatfields on a succession of small gravel roads. I had a fantastic tail wind which was sometimes a good-enough side wind and occasionally a most annoying head wind.

There was no traffic on the little roads, just me, the wind, and a million snails to pop. I saw donkeys!

Sorry, the baby donkey beats you in the cuteness stakes.

I admired old farm machinery while a single aeroplane traced a crisp white line across the bright blue sky.

I had a discussion with myself about the North Beach Kitchen which I suspected would be very exposed to the wind. The wind was cold too: I was still wearing my rain/wind jacket even though the sun was out. "It might be a bit exposed at the North beach Kitchen," I said to myself. Myself agreed. We decided that maybe we should just go home and save the North Beach Kitchen for when Roger gets here and we can bicycle down there one morning when the wind is from the North and the Kitchen would be sheltered. I like talking to Myself: she's very intelligent and an excellent conversationalist.

On the edge of Wallaroo I saw a sign. 'The Book Cafe' it said. 'OPEN'.

All by itself my bicycle turned left and followed the signs to the Book Cafe, which was a big shed with bicycle racks outside and a whole second hand book shop inside with a cafe and a cupboard of games that I could have played had I had anyone, other than Myself, to play with.

"The books are all for sale," said the waiter. "Or you can just read them here while you have your coffee." There were comfy couches too. I didn't sit in the comfy couch and read, though, because I had to park my bicycle outside and even though there was no-one else around it was still my (almost) brand new bicycle and I was afraid that someone might pop out of the bushes and steal it, so I sat outside and ate my lunch and watched my bicycle. It was a nice lunch too.

Although now I come to think of it I sat with my back to my bike. So someone could have popped out of the bushes and stolen it and I would have been none the wiser, because I was too busy stuffing my face.

I considered the cafe situation in Wallaroo and Kadina. The score stood at Wallaroo 2, Kadina 0 and there was a definite need for more research which I declared myself willing to conduct, sacrifice though it may be.

I pedaled home past the North Beach Kitchen where hardy patrons huddled on the deck as the wind whipped the froth off their cappuccinos and trailed streamers of sand up from the beach. I was glad I hadn't stopped there today.

The photo doesn't do justice to the wind, or the cold.

The moral of today's story is: Don't expect to get coffee in Kadina on a Sunday.

PS: The snails are evil. They are invaders from Europe and cause lots of problems by eating crops and clogging up harvesting machinery. I do not feel bad about popping them when I'm out riding.

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Today's ride: 36 km (22 miles)
Total: 843 km (524 miles)

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