Pliny's Holiday (end part)

I soon cheered up when we arrived once more at Moonta Bay. My companions decided to walk as far around the bay as the lighthouse, which looked like a very long walk indeed. You go, I said, and I shall potter here upon the sand. The tide was in but there were little islands of red-tipped samphire on which birds were standing. And I wished to make an inventory of shells.

I soon had a small collection of delightful molluscs. Because it was a holiday I had decided on a theme, and only picked up shells of reddish-pink, with the exception of two mussel shells that were bluish-purple, and a small orange winkle. The reddish-pink shells were gastropods of the type called Painted Lady, and bore designs of such intricate beauty one could scarce believe they were not painted with a brush.

Next I turned my attention to the birds. The birds seemed unafraid of me, and allowed me to approach them on their pretty islands. I identified gulls, sandpipers, pelicans, and sooty black oystercatchers with bright orange beaks. But the tide was rapidly going out, and they soon flew away.

My companions returned at last, claiming to have almost reached the lighthouse, which I did not think possible in the two hours they had taken, but of course it does depend on what they meant by almost. Together we ascended the metal steps to the top of the low seawall, and were surprised to hear a kind of natural music coming from them, created by the wind.

And now it was time to head for home. I should like to stay in Moonta Bay, I said to my companions. I believe I could find enough to do here to fill my days. But they looked very dubious, and pointed out that what seemed charming on a holiday might soon become tedious as a way of life. And so we set off to buy some lunch.

On the way home we saw a great fire billowing black and white smoke into the air at Paskeville, and people running to try and put it out.

At Cavan the salt heaps floated upside down in water that was tinted rosy pink.

And here I fell asleep.

Pliny's Holiday

I, Gaius Plinius Secundus, having returned from a two-day sojourn on the far-off coast of Yorke Peninsula, have these tales to tell.

I and my two companions drove in a car out of the city precincts following a long straight road to the top of the Gulf known as St Vincent. On the way we saw many wonders. The Palms of Cavan, an oasis of giant palm trees. Rows of white salt heaps reflected upside down in a lake of blue. An untended Cactus Garden. A field of metal creatures, a man, a metal beetle and a mouse. Dilapidated glasshouses, empty but for dried-out sagging weeds. Vast tracts of sand and rusty saltbush.

At Port Wakefield we walked through a deserted town, where it was very hot and the trees afforded no satisfactory shade, and there were horseflies.

At Moonta we looked for food. We found a small shop that served Cornish pasties, on blue and white striped plates. Here we found evidence of the famed Copper Triangle, for the knives and forks were tipped with copper balls.

Next we left Moonta for Moonta Bay. I spied a sign on a fence which read 'General Contractor'. I would have liked to stop and speak with a military man, but my companions were anxious to continue to the coast.

We arrived at Moonta Bay. The tide was out as far as the eye could see. There were white sand banks and pools of pale blue sea water, red and yellow rocks, and a fine long curving jetty. While my companions walked out on the jetty, I examined the rocks on the shore for traces of copper, which I found, and when my companions returned, they assured me that the deep sea's hue was a mottled coppery green.

Thence to the Moonta Bay Cabin Park, where our cabin had been left unlocked for our arrival. Indeed, there was no one there to welcome us, other than a large brown hopping creature that my companions informed me was a kangaroo. I should have liked to get a closer look at this kangaroo, but my companions wishing to go for a walk along the beach, I was obliged to put on a hat and some white sun-deterring cream and join them.

It was most pleasant on the beach at Moonta Bay. The sun was warm and mild, and the breeze was gentle. The coppery cliffs reflected in the coppery sheeny flat pools of water in between the sand banks. A man with two dogs of differing sizes speared a blue and white umbrella into one of the sandbanks and sat under it with water lapping all around.

I pottered on the shore looking for copper traces, and marvelling at the floating seagrass that was straight and flat, yet cast shadows that were polypy and curved, and edged with light.

My companions meanwhile walked towards Port Hughes. I did not accompany them, but one of them later told me that she had sat down upon some grass under a pine tree there, and been attacked by biting midges, on hearing which I suppressed a smile.

Of many more wonders I have yet to tell , but fearing lest I induce tedium, I shall leave them for tomorrow.

Vale!
Gaius Plinius Secundus.

Moonta Bay

What's this? says Pliny the Elder, looking at his Facebook. You didn't tell me you were going to Moonta Bay.

I was going to tell you, I said.

When? he asked.

About now, I said. We're going to Moonta Bay for the weekend. We're staying in a cabin.

By we, you don't mean me, I suppose, said Pliny, looking sorrowful.

Oh Pliny, you do look sorrowful. Would you like to come?

I do not know. Where is this Moonta Bay?

It's north up St Vincents Gulf to Port Wakefield then across Yorke Peninsula to Kadina then down to Moonta on the Spencer Gulf, I said. At least I think so. I get my gulfs mixed up, I added, unhelpfully.

How far away is it? asked Pliny, who was looking just a little bit too interested.

Two to three hours drive, I said, through very boring countryside.

And what is there? asked Pliny, not seeming at all put off.

Not a lot, I said. The Copper Triangle. Old abandoned mines, a jetty, and a windy coast. Impenetrable scrub.

Well, said Pliny, if you both don't mind, I'll come!