We needed to
get the real story; there was no point in further speculation.
Was the place
really ‘terra nullius’ prior to white settlement? Were there six-foot tiger
snakes all over the Island? Would
‘The Oyster Shop’, ‘open seven days’,
really have oysters for five bucks a dozen?
And, what about
Lisa! What would her story be? Shrouded in mystery and myth, we needed to find
some answers.
There seemed
little reason not to fly. A mild day
at YKTN, a reasonable South-Westerly breeze, and a good prognosis along our
track, and at the Island itself.
The
chef-come-magician commanded the F.O’s seat. He is much younger than I. He
could do most of the flying today.
Clutching four
litres of Aldis’ dry white and a paper cup, Heather was restrained in the back
of theUGlyDuckling. 
Graham in the Bristol was very organized, and rolled on
‘18’ a bit before us.
My ‘leg’ was
YKTN to YHSM. At 3,500 with scattered Cu above and a bit of a headwind, Horsham
came up in an hour and a half.
Topped up the
tanks, emptied bladders, and Graham in the Bristol collected his logbooks from
Tony’s workshop.
Off again, with
the chef in control this time. A long slow climb to 6,500 above fluffy Cu, as
smooth as a babies bum in cruise, but only about 95Kts.
Graham was in
view initially, but he gradually pulled away even though heavily laden with the
chefs’ larder and bags of tricks. We decided to bypass Goolwa with the handbag
getting lighter and Heathers’ bladder approaching capacity.
And so we
headed out over the ocean from the mouth of the Murray, and caught up with the
Bristol as we tracked over the island. Found YJOH airfield and landed on about
23,24,25 or 26?
All out for an
urgent bladder stop; the handbag volume critically low. We were welcomed by
Dean, and Judy drove us to our seaside palace to drop our gear, and then on to
pick up our mini-bus. Graham drove back to the airstrip to cover his aircraft,
and pick up Anthea and Peter, who had departed YKTN a couple of hours later.
Back at base
camp we surveyed the situation. A good camera can lie a bit! The place is passable, but a bit downtrodden and
someone forgot to toss out the empty beer bottles and rubbish and polish the
crockery!
However, as
drink O’clock got underway the general demeanor of our happy group was greatly
enhanced. Our resident hostess Lisa invited herself to join in, and was quite complimentary
of the dregs of Heathers handbag.
Was there a man
in her life? Was that only Vietnamese mint overgrowing the vegie patch, or
cover for a fine crop of marijuana? Does she really shoot kangaroos and
possums, butcher her own sheep and generally live off the land?
The Irishman
was soon down to the serious business of constructing a suitable banquet for
our first evening meal overseas! Even he seemed to enjoy the fine ALDI wine!
Against all
odds he had obtained the finest cuts of free-range pork. None of that farmed
stuff for him! Fine fillets wrapped in bacon, (also free range), and cooked to
perfection.
With mushy
peas, shredded apple lightly stewed as a special sauce, and crunchy roast
spuds.
A great prelude
to the much anticipated floor show!
And what a
show! Two completely empty shopping bags, verified as such by all!
But, where did
the contents come from? ---a
couple of metre-long plastic rods, a six foot pole, numerous large dice,
and lots and lots of large oblong decorative objects. Very impressive, and
accompanied by fine Irish music from an electronic device.
As the applause
subsided, we were entertained by a fine Irish concert, visually displayed on
another electronic device!
Finally to bed;
what wonders would tomorrow bring?!
Friday on the
Island would surely be a busy market day for both locals and visitors.
After breakfast
of brewed coffee, slow-toasted homemade bread, local honey and Halal certified
Vegemite, the ‘younger’ lot were off to explore the vast outdoors.
Not being
designed for such intense activity, the Minto crowd kept watch over base camp.
We nibbled on cold free-range pork for lunch whilst the adventurers indulged in
a counter meal at Pennishaw, but neglected to apply for their Seniors discount!
In the
afternoon Heather and I joined Graham and the Irishman on a mission to obtain
vast quantities of seafood for dinner. Anthea and Peter kept guard over base
camp and Anthea went for a long walk of discovery.
The ‘Oyster
Shop’ at American River would have a vast range of mollusks, crustations and
pices! Being market day, they would be doing a roaring trade.
Alas, it was
not to be. We arrived a few nanoseconds past three, but madam had just rung off
the till, and was unable and most unwilling to oblige!
A large shed
opposite had tons of fresh oysters however, only $8.50 a dozen, but unshucked!!
Graham and I
hastened to inform the others; but our paths had crossed, and on enquiring they were told that ‘two elderly men have just left! Did the McCathys like oysters
anyway?
Confused and
disappointed, we drove on a further 40Km to Kingscote—surely we would find seafood
here, in the supermarket if not elsewhere.
But it was not
to be, and after careful examination the Irishman settled on some fine pommy
sausages and a large slab of steak to share. No doubt he could construct
something exceptional out of such basic fare.
And he
did! As we all enjoyed
drink-o’clock he produced grilled snags, steak pieces, superbly re-cycled pork
from last night (free-range of course), and sautéed spuds.
Followed by Antheas’ fine fruit cake. And more magic, a remarkable feat of mind reading!
And the scotch
and the wine and the beer and the music continued. And thus it was time to rest
for the morrow.
Saturday would
surely produce some exceptional local seafood.
And it finally
did!
Anthea, Peter,
Graham and Colin headed off on a mission; again Alan and Heather would keep the
home fires burning, and perhaps interrogate Lisa.
The Oyster Shop
was again unfruitful, and the sad story that had befallen the lady proprietor
unfolded, and we all, even the chef, retreated from the resolve to admonish
her.
After visiting
far off lands, an alternate and abundant source of 'fruits de mer' was
discovered. Freshly shucked plump
oysters, local prawns impaled on skewers, fillets of King George whiting and
scallops.
Together with
condiments and embellishments to accompany, the Irish Chef would be busy again this
evening.
Meanwhile I inspected
the vast hot house of vegetables where lots of strange plants grew under the
cover of mint, kale, beans, tomatoes and garlic. Medicinal botanicals abounded but nothing questionable was
detected.
Lisa appeared
and explained her methods of meat acquisition. Nothing fancy here, she is a bit
of an Annie Oakley. With a permit to eliminate kangaroos (and possums), there
is no shortage of animal protein.
She is quite
versatile with a rifle and shotgun; kills and butchers her own sheep, runs
chooks and guinea fowl, bakes her own bread, has bees and harvests honey and would be pretty self
sufficient in food. And is about to invest in a home flour mill—why not when
wheat is bought by the tonne!
She smokes
fresh ‘roo meat and gave us a couple of fillets to try. Not bad either, but rather
heavily smoked.
The explorers
returned laden with seafood and the Master Chef got on with his culinary magic.
The timing was
impeccable, as, as we were about to sit down to a feast, Dean and Judy arrived,
ostensibly to organise the return of our mini-bus.
However they
sampled our wares, the chef was unruffled, and the oysters Killpatrick, prawns
and whiting were superb. Anthea opted for oysters natural and enjoyed them immensely.
The visitors
finally departed and we polished off fine fruitcake, solved most of the worlds’
problems, imbibed leisurely, and enjoyed more magic and Celtic music. The
stories grew exponentially as we mellowed, but no one had been placed under
oath!
Lisa appeared
in her finery, off for a night on the tiles. Colin observed much later, a ‘ute
and a pair of boots parked in the yard!
No business of ours!
More fresh
bread, bumnuts and brewed coffee set out for our breakfast, also cereals and
free-range milk! We were thinking of bagging her and the place, but she hasn’t
been too intrusive, and quite interesting.
And so our stay
on Kangaroo Island was drawing to a close. The bus was returned to Johnsons
Field, and as we prepared the aircraft, Judy and Dean had assembled Peter
Hupfeld (convalescing from a major heart attack), and Marilyn and Russell
Hicks, formerly of Faraday.
Peter and
Anthea tracked over Goolwa, landed at Nhill, and beat the rest of us home. The
Piper is a bit quicker than us, despite the wings being in the wrong place!
theUGlyDuckling
crew and Graham landed at Goolwa for fuel, then Graham tracked direct to YKTN,
whilst we also dropped in at Nhill, and then on home.
A great group
of warriors and another flying adventure! Superb weather, great company, food,
magic and fun.
We had talked
about it since our Flinders Island trip, or was it Three Hummock?
