Ceduna

Smoky Bay

We leave the Streaky Bay Foreshore Tourist Park filled with fisherpeople, although many have hitched up their boats and headed out for a day of piscatorial pursuit. It’s only a short 110 km run to Ceduna, but we still punctuate the journey with a cuppa stop at Smoky Bay. A caravan-friendly car park on the shore and adjacent to the caravan park entrance provides a magnificent view of the bay and the jetty. This appears yet another place to consider for an extended stay should we pass this way again, especially with fishing and crabbing mind.

Shelly Beach

Arriving in Ceduna, we make our way to the Shelly Beach Caravan Park, a park that we stayed at last August when heading to our Canning Stock Route adventure. An ideal park to stay in, the beach is immediately behind the  sand dunes at the back of the park. Our site is ideally placed, being shaded, protected from the wind, and close to ensuite style amenities.

It isn’t long before we are on the Ceduna jetty in search of a catch of crabs and fish, but the presence of a large ray swimming around the crab net and lines makes the task difficult. Running short of crab bait, we approach a fellow crabber, who not only provides us with some smelly fish pieces, he gives us his whole bagful. Fellow fishermen can be generous.

Next day is Betty’s birthday, and she rises early on the low turning tide to get a few bites, but the only whiting landed eludes final capture by slipping from her grip while being measured. The pressure is on Ken to provide a respectable feed of crab, so it’s back to the jetty. To our combined joy, we come home with six crabs, two tommy ruffs, and two eating-sized trevally. We missed a squid which we managed to jag under a float, but it cut through the line and disappeared with the lure. Betty’s birthday wishes come true, and its sweet chilli crab for tea.

It’s cup race day in Ceduna, and the last ever running of the Thevenard Cup. The racecourse is literally across the road from the caravan park, and we are the 202^nd and 203^rd paying customers (wrist bands are issued and provide entry into the $1000 raffle – we did not win). John Letts is the roving MC, commentating on the fashions on the field, and is happy to sign our race book. Betty backs the winner of the first race, punting on the third favourite in a four horse race, and scores again in the fourth race of the day (six starters).  The TAB Telstra lines are down, so for the crowd of around five hundred it’s pretty much what’s in front of them. Back at the caravan park, it is another meal of fresh seafood, as we consume the tommy ruffs and trevally. 

Denial Bay at Davenport Creek

A trip out to Denial Bay and Davenport Creek turns into more adventure than anticipated when a sharp rock puts a split in a rear tyre. Without the high-lift jack or trusty jack block (both in the caravan boot), the Pathfinder scissor jack is inadequate to cope with the extra 40mm lift that the Ironman suspension affords, so we call on the RAA to help us out. While waiting , Betty throws a line into the bay, but trying to stand in knee-deep wet seaweed soon takes any enjoyment out of this activity. Inside an hour, a chatty old bloke is on the scene and the tyre change is complete. (Memo: leave block in car).

On the way home, we pick up a dozen fresh oysters, which serve as an entrée before yet another feed of sweet chilli crab (still not tired of these lovely crustacea).

That’s it. Time for a bourbon.