We left Ceduna on Sat am bound for Coffin Bay and saw spectacular sights of the Bight all along the way down the western side of the Eyre Peninsula. South of Streaky Bay was a sculptures by the sea type of thingo high on the cliffs. Pete insisted, with absolutely no prompting from me, that I take his photo astride Malcolm Fraser's head. Please see photo as that I know will sound a little awkward. The trip to Coffin Bay was all white sand, cliffs, brilliant blue water and huuuuuge wheat properties.
Coffin Bay is a very pretty town, seemingly populated by very well-to-do farmer refugees from the GFC. The houses are very modern and extremely well built and designed. Pru ande Trude would be ecstatic to live there. (An aside: How did Coffin Bay get its name? Neatest correct entry will be treated to a personalised powerpoint presentation by yours truly of the entire 4-month trip. Some prize eh! For those not interested in the prize, the answer is it was named by Matthew Flinders after his good mate from the British Navy, Sir Isaac Coffin.)
This morning we chanced our fishing arm after another tent night in Coffin Bay surrounded by Skippy and friends. With skipper Gary at the helm we managed to haul in a goodly stock of whiting and trevally, as well as some rubbish. Gary was an intriguing guy who had some fairly radical ideas as to how we should treat our indigenous cousins. I did suggest that his ideas might be a tad extreme but he didn't seem to be listening. I therefore felt no compunction at the end of the trip in extracting a donation to CCAF from Gaz. Thanks Gaz and good luck with your reconciliation ideas!
We have now breezed in to Cowell on the eastern side of the Eyre Peninsula, eagerly awaiting the RWC Final. Reluctantly, I have to say go the All Blacks, but my heart is heavy at what could or should have been.
I'll let you have more soonish.
Cheers
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