Ho Hum, More Beautiful Beaches

March 23, 2024

Hallett Cove to Moana

The day started at Hallett Cove again, just going the other way and camping tonight.

I dawdled all day, having not far to go and all day to do it in. Dawdling wasn't difficult given the long uphill slog from Hallett Cove railway station on the Coast to Vines rail trail. Two small boys followed me on a scooter and bicycle asking all manner of questions and, under the fanciful illusion that my bike had batteries, asking for a tow. They were so interested in my lights that I felt it prudent to cancel my planned stop at Woolworths, not being confident of their ability to keep their sticky little fingers to themselves should I leave the bike unaccompanied while I used the amenities.

The path wound upward through a linear park embellished with playgrounds and over run with children and families spending Saturday morning out doors. Last time I passed through here it was one big construction site so it was good to see it finished and well used. I crossed the highway at the high point and ran happily down the hill past Old Reynella.

Old Reynella is considered the birthplace of the South Australian wine industry. John Reynell established Reynella farm here shortly after he arrived in the settlement in 1838. He planted wines and produced the first South Australian commercial wine in 1842.

At Pedlar creek I abandoned the Coast to Vines trail and followed an adventurous little path beside the creek toward the sea.

This creek must once have had enough water in it to make a tyre swing worth while.

The path ambled through a large culvert under Main South road before disappearing altogether, leaving me to push up the hill and navigate another dodgy road crossing only to discover that I should have been on the other side of the creek all along. Oh well.

I do like a generous culvert, a world away from the traffic growling overhead.

Noarlunga beach was colourfuly dressed with gazebos, flags, and hundreds of people with surf skis and brightly coloured rash vests. A loudspeaker implored contestants to gather for their events, to move their surf skis as the tide was coming in, to present themselves for medal presentations, and to please listen to the loudspeaker announcements. Coffee vans and food trucks lined the shared path along the cliff top, doing a brisk trade for spectators and contestants alike. I had a long chat with a fellow who fondly reminisced on his long-ago bicycle trip through Europe: a trip from which he came home with a wife, so I didn't think I could top that as a souvenir. Having dispensed with bicycle memories my friend moved on to a detailed appraisal of the surf carnival, the conclusion of which was that Grange was winning by a considerable margin and he wasn't from Grange. Good on Grange, I guess.

Beyond the surf carnival the beaches were quiet, the sea unbelievably blue, sparkling with sunlight and sprinkled with sailboats.

Every headland had a set of cliffs layered in white and red rock, topped with a froth of beach houses.

I stopped at the mouth of the Onkaparinga River where a footbridge crossed the river to the Onkaparinga Surf Club. The Onkaparinga is the biggest river in South Australia, not counting the Murray which can't be claimed by any one state.

The path was all downhill from the lookout over the Onkaparinga River to Moana and the headwind, disrupted by the cliff, was hardly discernible. Out on Moana beach numpties in 4WDs used big engines to compensate for their deficiencies in other areas (social skills, guys, social skills! What were you thinking?) while mullet hairdos cheered them from the esplanade. I decided to skip a beach walk and took myself off to the Moana Caravan Park where I was relegated to unpowered camping with all the Germans who traveled in flocks of camper vans and were (like me) too cheap to pay for power, preferring to plug their gizmos in at the camp kitchen when we had our morning cups of tea.

A cold breeze rolled in on sunset and soon sent me, wearing all my wardrobe, to my sleeping bag. Thankfully, all the Germans went to bed early too and all was quiet in my corner of the Moana Caravan Park.

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