KI, Sunday

That night was noisy. Not the animals, which I thought it was, but the teenagers. Pity the couple with the young child. And then whoever was on the bottom bunk was cold so got up to put the heater on at around 5 (which did leave the room warm at 7 when it was time to get up.)

I gave up at 6:30. I could hear Simon clattering in the kitchen (and the music was on) so I got up. I sat for a good half hour before anyone else got up, watching the dawn. The fire was alight so it was warm despite a quite obvious autumnal edge to the air. The stars were dimmed by the full moon, which was setting as the sky turned turquoise behind me.

By the time everyone else got up, I had had breakfast. So I had a shower when the bathroom was free, and washed up while the others ate then did my drug round. We left at 8, packed and fed, as the sun was rising above the golden mist in the fields. The road (everywhere is 20-30 minutes away from the last place) took us to the far western end of the island to Flinders Chase which was the most burnt last December. You could still smell the acrid char on the air and where the sand is pale gold elsewhere, here is grey. But already there are bright, light green new leaves around bases of the black gum skeletons and regrowth is happening.

We reached the coast and the sea sparkled. There was still a light dusting of mist along the headlands and solid in the distance were lumps of the remarkable rocks (still original in the names). After a quick photo stop we got to the rocks, only two cars in the car park and one family was just leaving. The Rocks are lumps of granite, weathered and torn and alien in the sand and limestone scenery, perched on a large dome of granite. They balance and lean drunkenly and in every view you can imagine animals and faces. The dome slides gracefully and ever so inevitably to the rocks below where the sea washes stripes over.Several rocks are hollow and there were lots of photos and general silliness before we all stopped for a group piccie. 21 cameras later, the tour guide was loving it.

After we left there it was a few minutes down the road to Admirals Arch. This is a huge limestone arch across a spectacular bay of base rocks which slope to the sea ( in the same way the balcony of the hotel in Victor Harbour sloped) and to two islands which obviously formed when similar arches fell. The rocks are dark, the sea a sort of sapphire except where the waves are creamy against the dark rocks. And then you look again and you realise that half of the rocks are actually more seals. You can’t walk among the seals here and the air is as pungent as you’d expect. From the roof of the arch hang ancient petrified tree roots and there are massive cracks through the rocks. It is spectacular, absolutely beautiful, and we just stood and watched the seals fighting and playing in the waves.

But all good things come to an end and it was lunch time. So back to the Flinders Chase visitors centre to cook dinner on another barbie. Much round there (including the platypus walk) is closed because the trees are too unstable after the fires. Chicken wraps for dinner, and a chance to sit and read for a few minutes as the magpies come close in a desperate but futile hunt for food. Two kangaroos were watching and one came right down into the shelter as we were clearing up.

We had a half hour in the visitor centre itself. After discussing Mother’s Day while eating, I finally remembered to buy Mum a b’day card. Found one with some local finches on, painted by a local artist. As I was paying, the bloke behind the counter said I must see the other bird cards which were so nice – open them up and they would play birdsong. God, he must have a low opinion of tourists. I bought the local rag instead, I don't think he was impressed.

From there to Stokes Bay (not quite Gosport), with its secret beach. To get to it, you have to walk (crouch) through a narrow tunnel formed by huge fallen rocks (likethe Siq in Jordan, on a tiny scale). It suddenly opens out into a curving bay with the most gorgeous white soft sand, shallow lucent sea that fades through all turquoise imaginable to crystal clear. Intending to sit and read (I really can’t afford to lose my lenses – I need new glasses as it is - so I didn't swim), I completely failed and spent the time standing just where the sea laps the beach, talking to the Americans. The time flew and it was time to get back on the bus for the final sight. Why haven't I been here before?

That was Kingscote, bustling metropolis, capital of KI, with a population of about 50. We stopped by the pub and after a short while wandering along the beach there, picking up shells and sea-glass and skimming stones, had a quick drink. Then we had a quick hunt for the Swedish lads, who had disappeared, and went to see the pelicans.

Simon is obviously a regular fixture there, and led us right to the front. There were about 15-20 pelicans, huge ungainly birds with big blue pigeon-toed feet until they fly when they soar on the thermals. Feeding frenzy. The gulls barely got a look in before being chased away. Then the pelicans had a go. The bills are incredible. They are fleshy and expand with the weight of the fish, which are then flipped around (eventually) so they are gulped down whole head first. Like a snake, you can see the lump of the fish in the neck as it slides down the oesophagus.

Then it was time to drive back to Penneshaw to get the ferry. We were told to bugger off awhile and find food, so three of us (Beth, Naoko and me) went to the take away. Which was pretty much just a screen door in a wall next to the pub. It could have been into someone’s kitchen, had there not been a blackboard outside with “Take Away” scrawled on it. But the fish and chips were cooked to order and were beautifully fresh. They still don’t get the vinegar thing, though.

Anyway, we sat in the park and ate with Karen and Sonya who had pizza. Then we walked along the small reserve at the top of the cliffs. Sadly no penguins. So we thought we’d talk about seeing dolphins instead – and there they were, three of them right at the base of the cliffs. So close you could hear them.

Time to say farewell to Simon and onto the boat. This time I found the van that took luggage so didn’t have to carry my big rucksack. Which wasn’t that big, but just enough to be a pain and prevent moving around. Unfortunately the ferry left just slightly too late to catch the sun going down so we didn’t stay long on deck, but sat talking.

Back in Cape Jervis, the boarding of the coaches was managed with the military precision of the Bolivian Navy. ie non-existent. You just had to crowd around a little man with a clipboard and shout out the name of your hotel until he heard and told you which coach you were allowed to board. It was dark and as we drove up to Adelaide, the moon was bright enough to define the trees and their shadows sharply against the black. Not that I was suggesting it, but it was probably light enough to be able to see the road without lights.

Back in Adelaide and we were dropped off at various hotels, down side streets I never knew existed (and certainly wouldn’t walk down some of them alone in the dark). I heard one man asking to go to the hospital so managed to persuade the driver to drop me off there instead. As it turned out, he had left the bus at a hotel, but I got taken to the corner of North Tce and Frome which suited me fine.

So into the car and home by 11pm. Just in time to phone home for Easter Sunday.

PS. I've (obviously) got my photos back. Just how many photos of seals is it possible to take?