March 19, 2024
We Don't Do Camping.
Back To Gawler
The lady at the Gawler Caravan Park screwed up her nose when I asked for an unpowered tent site. "Sorry" she said, "We don't do unpowered camping. Or tents. You'll have to go to the Barossa Park: it's just up the road."
"Can I have a caravan spot then?" Apart from the fact that 10km wasn't 'just up the road' on a loaded bike, I'd ridden past the Barossa Park on the way from Tanunda. It looked decrepit and the reception was boarded up following a fire: I didn't want to stay there.
She was horrified. "You won't be able to peg your tent in!"
"The tent can stay up without pegs." I did my best pleading face. "I'm on a bicycle. Please?"
I hadn't done anything as sensible as checking to make sure that the Gawler Caravan Park would accept tents, having instead rashly assumed that they would have a patch of grass set aside for travelers such as myself. But that wasn't the case, and while she screws up her face and considers I'll tell you about the rest of the day.
I powered out of Tanunda on another cool, cloudy morning, zipping past vineyards like nobody's business. Having reached my northern most point in Nuriootpa yesterday, it was time to start traveling south and the day held no surprises, just a ride back down the Barossa Way to Gawler.
With no intention of returning to the silly and unnecessary hills on the silly and unnecessary detour by the creek, I popped on my big girl panties and took to the Barossa Way where the traffic was far less intimidating than the hills. With the exception of one or two scary pinch points the grades were reasonable, the trucks were courteous, and in no time at all I rolled into Lyndoch and succumbed to the lure of the Lyndoch Bakery. No peanut butter and crackers for me today: I had a nice pot of tea and two mini snacks which I'm sad to say looked much better than they tasted.
Lyndoch marked the end of the vineyards and a return to rolling hills of cattle pasture, fallow cultivation, and wild artichokes proliferating in the rail reserve.
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By lunchtime I was ensconced in the Gawler public library where I happily recharged all my devices in the large common/cafe area. I like public libraries, especially the new ones. The toilets are always clean, they have comfortable chairs, and you are positively encouraged to plug things in and take your time perusing the books and using the public wifi. I dawdled at the library for rather too long before taking myself off to the caravan park and that was where I discovered that me and my tent were not desirable guests.
Begging did the trick and I was grudgingly allowed to pay for the privilege of pitching my tent on a concrete slab, although I had to promise to use the boom gate and code to enter and exit the park. I politely agreed and proceeded to set up a shambolic camp on my concrete slab, surrounded by caravans and watched with fascination by a collection of grey nomads who pretended not to be looking when I caught their eyes. The tent, held down only by the weight of the panniers and tied to my bicycle, threatened to blow away with every gust of wind. I decided to stay in camp rather than going for a walk, on the premise that if the tent converted to a kite I would be able to run after it and catch it which was unlikely, but it felt better to stay close.
Down in the camp kitchen I made the mistake of throwing a ball for Tilly the dog, who promptly became my best friend and caused some anguish to her owner by refusing to return to him, preferring to wait at my feet in hopes of another ball toss. Once that was all sorted out, and the vagaries of doggie desires had been discussed in some detail, the wind had died down and I crawled into my sleeping bag quite happy with the knowledge that I was now unlikely to blow away in the night.
Today's ride: 27 km (17 miles)
Total: 94 km (58 miles)
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