Port Lincoln

After leaving Coffin Bay, we returned to Port Lincoln for a day to visit Lincoln NP, which turned out to be another venture along unsealed roads through lots of Aussie bush, seeing very few other people. There were fewer dramatic sights compared with Coffin Bay NP; we enjoyed the rugged coastline and a couple of lovely deserted beaches but the highlight was a climb up to Stamford Hill to see the Flinders’ Memorial which also provided spectacular 360 degree views of Boston Bay, Port Lincoln and the NP. The climb was arduous and involved fighting off the biting flies. However, when compared to the achievement of carting the marble blocks up to make the memorial, I don’t think we should complain.

Furthermore, the story of Matthew Flinders and his crew, who surveyed much of the South Australia coast around 1800 is both inspiring and extremely sad. In 1802, they were off the coast of what is now Lincoln NP, desperately in need of water, so Flinders sent a party of 8 on a cutter to the shore. They were never seen again, not even their bodies. Evidence that they came to grief on the rocks was found but, despite numerous attempts, no trace of the sailors was ever found. I should remind you that sharks reside in the area. Subsequently, water was found close by and meant Flinders was able to survey much more of the Eyre Peninsula rather than set sail further east. The various rocky islands off the coast are now named after individual members of the stricken party.

Matthew Flinders was a remarkable explorer, sent by the British Government, he only lived to the age of 40 and yet his discoveries provided an incredible amount of detailed information and his legacy lives on with numerous references to his name, most notably the highly impressive Flinders Ranges.

On leaving Port Lincoln we had a classic Aussie “can do” experience. On checking our tyres, we were concerned that one had a slow puncture, so contacted the rental company who gave us the number of the local office. By then, we had driven to a tyre repairer called Beaurepaires. When we told the local guy where we were, he said that was “highly fortuitous” and to ask for Brett and tell him the beers would be delivered on Friday. We duly found Brett, passed on the message to which he replied “you bet they will”, proceeded to arrange the immediate checking and repair of our rogue tyre and uttered the immortal phrase “it’s good to go” with no charge, although we tipped him, of course. This was all done in about 20 mins from arriving at the place.