Nhill to Clare
Posted by Melissa on | July 4, 2008
We made it to chilly Nhill last night and booked into a motel claiming to be the town’s quietest. Our host, who is wearing shorts, dropped in homemade muffins with thick icing to welcome us.
We wake up to the hum of trucks and don’t waste much time getting back onto what is a major transport artery between Melbourne and Adelaide - long freight trains race the road traffic, which is comprised of more trucks and caravans than cars. The vegetation changes - stubby scrubby brush and native grasses set in sandy pale soil - the road is flat and straight and passes through farmland.
Bordertown was once home to Bob Hawke, and is currently home to a really good bakery - a rare commodity in the bush - and to a mob of white roos. We skip the former PM’s house and opt for a great pastie and a look at the strange white skippys, who keep company with peacocks and grey roos behind a tall cyclone fence.
A quick stop at Murray Bridge, a small town set on the famous river, where we see pelicans and houseboats and then we miss our turn north and find ourselves whizzing towards Adelaide on the freeway. No matter, this road takes us through beautiful scenery and the northern suburbs of Adelaide (slowly) and eventually we are back on track bouncing up the B82 to the Clare Valley and Clare.
Along the way there have been updates from my parents - Phil has extremely low haemoglobin, which in turn caused angina; nothing a transfusion of blood flown up from Perth won’t remedy in the short term. We all feel relieved.
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