Day 2

We took off early and headed towards Streaky Bay, where the first island was waiting. We went through a few towns which made outrageous claims. Kimba, 'the centre of Australia' clearly isn't. It's a desperate plea for tourists to stop. It worked on us:

Two fifths of the way. Tops.

Steve's obsession with big things meant we had to stop at this giant owl.

Steve covers the genitalia with his fingers. Such a modest soul.

..and this fearsome stuffed drop-bear (life sized!):

No issues here - the drop bear's genitals are thoughfully obscured by a gift shop.

The remainder of South Australia is perhaps the most desolate land I've seen, but not for the reasons you think. Yes, there is parched landscape which looks like it would leach the water out of your body in about half an hour. Which is what seems to have happened to this lizard.

Lizard kit - just add water.

The earth is a red as a rusted car body, and there are a few car bodies around to ensure that the comparison is accurate. However, the desolation really comes from the palpable presence of people, or more accurately, power stations and mines. You can't escape the feeling that it's a pretty fragile ecology that struggles to get by in this part of the world, and the presence of the lead smelter at Port Pirie with its drifting clouds of stink, and the Iron Knob mine make it look like the ecology has been pushed over the edge and can't be bothered looking good any more.

Lead smelter vs Environment. Guess who won.

Is Hell far?

The Iron Knob 'mine' is a hill which is being eaten by bulldozers and now looks suspiciously like the negative image of the super-pit in Kalgoolie. If you upended iron knob and stuck it in the super-pit, I think you'd end up with a flat plain. If they weren't almost a continent apart, the coincidence would be too much to take.

Streaky Bay turned out to be the kind of beach holiday place you take your family to if your surname is Manson; its just not that uplifting. By the number of boats I guess the fishing must be good. Just up the coast from Streaky Bay is the oddly named (and slightly freaky) Eba Anchorage. Our working theory is that drop-out scientists take their children here to hide from the impending doom in the rest of the world - we've never seen so many solar panels, Citroens and beards.

I set out on a lap of the island just off the shore from Eba Anchorage while Steve delved into the schmackerel supply. The southwest side of the island faces the open ocean and has been cut into low cliffs by the sea. Unfortunately for me, the sea hasn't stopped there and is now trying to grind the island into sand. The water just off the island consisted of waves from the Southern Ocean crashing into waves bouncing off the sheer side of the island and intersecting at the exact spot where kayaks should not be. I thought fear and seasickness would force me to turn back but they ended up cancelling each other out and I reached the west of the island where I managed to surf the rest of the way in about two minutes. The back of the island looked like a Bond movie - all blue water and empty, rocky beach. I expected a private submarine to surface and release sharks with freakin' lasers on their heads.

The only schmackerel I could find when I got back was a can of tuna which made me and the car stink like....well, tuna for the rest of the day.

We were aiming to get to Nundroo to stay the night, but mercifully only made it to Penong - the next day we passed Nundroo and saw that it consists of some cinder block huts, dust and a smattering of dingos. In Penong we had a cabin to ourselves with hot water and TV (but strangely, no bed linen). Score.