Friday, 25 April 2014

The fearsome beasts of Tolderol

This includes a personal encounter with fearsome beasts, rather than recounting a second hand tale.

Our day began as usual with a walk along Maslins Beach.  After breakfast I took a shower and on emerging from the sheds encountered Frances' youngest sister who had come to check out the camper.

After an exchange of pleasantries I took off to deal with the birds and wines of the Lake Alexandria area.  This involved some negotiatin of the routes through the Fleurieu Peninsula.,  This was achieved easily (albeit with a small detour to the Kitchener Bun infested bakery in Strathalbyn - there were less Buns there afterwards).

On getting to the Langhorne Creek area I noted that many of the rows of vines ended with rose bushes.
My objective was Potts Bleasdale winery, from which we have had many good bottles.  On this occasion I rolled in and indicated a desire to taste and buy.
I was served by a casually dressed bloke who seemed pretty knowledgeable about the business.  Then he referred to his cousin ... Potts and I realised I was talking to The Man!  After a very pleasant time chatting, sipping, and spitting I ordered a few bottles and headed off to explore Tolderol Game Reserve as recommended.

Mr Potts directions were excellent apart from not mentioning the very alert guard Kelpie at Tolderol Homestead nor the closed gate.  The gate was nt locked, but merely there to keep the fearsome beasts where they were supposed to be.

Getting on with business I drove a few km though the station and the Reserve without finding too many birds.  
 So I went back from whence I had started , pausing only to note this artistic irrigation system.
Driving along the shores of Lake Alexandrina I approached the burg of Milang where a small jetty was full of water birds.
The most amusing item was seeing a Pelican arrive and realise at the last moment that there was no space left in the Pelican arena and crash untidily into the water.

I passed on the rest of Milang and sped out to Point Sturt.  Nearly out to the point I noted this decorated gate.
For those with eyesight of my level here is the nifty pome in a legible format!
The point was pretty well replete with identities engaged in pursuits related to drowning worms and other types of bait.  As they say in the movies "No fish were harmed in the this process".

Beside the piscatorial area was a lagoon well endowed with birds.  I was most impressed with the 16 Caspian terns resting on the mud.
I initially thought the small sandpipers were Red-necked Stints, but on looking at the image and reviewing my references have concluded they were Sanderlings.  A bunch of Red-capped plovers were also present.
I swung by Clayton, mainly on the grounds that it was there, and looked across the channel to Hindmarsh Island.  This has been spanned, somewhat further downstream, by a bridge despite pleas that this would interfere with traditional secret women's business.  Taking that symbolism a stage further one wonders what the two kayaks represent?
OK  Time to go 'home' or at least to pick up Frances from her sisters house.  This process went well until I reached a larger bitumen road with no indication where it led in either direction.  I took a guess and turned right.  Then I saw a dirt road with a name I recognised and took it.  This led to more intersections with no directions and suddenly - OK after about 25km of driving on mainly dodgy dirt roads - I found myself back where I had started.  Neeaarggghh  Why does this State Government hate direction signs: does the Lutheran background of the Barossa make them fear invasion?  Are they just stupid.  Take a brickbat guys!

Eventually I found a sign to Mount Compass which I knew and took.  After some distance I found that the Southern Expressway was open in the direction I wanted to go (although I thought it would be running in the opposite direction).  Whatever: I picked Frances up and headed back to the caravan park.

Evening meal was an totally excellent pizza from Cesar's Pizza Bar in Maslins Beach.

Awards time:

Bird of the Day: No spectacular entries today but several good birds seen  Black-tailed Native-hen got the guernsey,
Bad taste of the Day: Signpost policy of SA Government was a contender, but Frances description of the behaviour of a brat where she had lunch gave its unknown parent a Flying Fickle Finger of Fate.  Or at least a raised finger.
Art of the day:  Gate at Point Sturt
Scene of the Day: The jetty full of birds at Milang.

Back to the Index Post

No comments: