Yorke Peninsula, SA

Posted March 10th 2024

We asked random people as we travelled, “what should we do on the Yorke Peninsula”. Many said forget it, not much of interest there. Even the tourist information officer in Ceduna seemed vague and only directed us to the National Park right down on the southern tip as a place with great beaches. So the challenge was on. 

I scanned all the glossy brochures and determined a route for us to take. First off we landed at Wallaroo, after a smooth ferry trip across Spencer Gulf from the Eyre peninsula. We hadn’t pre-booked any accommodation, so were prepared to wing it and camp wherever we could. First campground we came across was fully booked and crammed cheek by jowl. The suggestion was to try North beach van park, which luckily had plenty of room for us and our site was a gem. We asked for unpowered on grass. We were located right at the back of the park on thick green grass, right beside the beach with a cafe 50 paces away. It was quite hot so we swam late in the day. You could drive on the beach, it was almost like Cable Beach in Broome without the hordes of cars, camels and people. Sunset was towards the west, what a treat each evening for us to see from our van.

Anyway, still scanning the brochures I realised that many towns on Yorke had art installations or murals mostly on water tanks, so we started with a goal to find and photograph as many as possible. Each painting had an interpretive board, helping us to get a deeper understanding of the history of the area. The painting above at Wallaroo station was about 50 metres long, but this picture shows an empty jetty, in memory of the 1917 Spanish flu pandemic and the arrival of Covid 19, while this mural was being painted.

So from Wallaroo, we did a quick day trip to Kadina, the biggest town on Yorke, where I found a couple of lovely murals. The town was a good service area for the north of the Peninsula.

We took the main road south to Moonta, Maitland and Port Victoria. They were each quite nice towns which could warrant a short stop, but we chose Port Victoria for a coffee and cake stop. Wrong decision. We opted for the boxed cold coffee as there was nothing else on offer. 

The towns are only about 20km apart. The whole Peninsula is just 40km wide. The landscape was dry, wheat stubble everywhere, poor sheep again nibbling the dirt.

We drove into Minlaton, where we should have had our coffee, anyway, we found a display about Harry Butler. Not the naturalist who was popular in the ’70’s, but Harry Butler the aviator. He was an army Captain and Chief Flight instructor during WW1. Here in Minlaton was his aircraft, the Red Devil, the sole remaining Bristol MC1 fighter plane out of 130 made in England. In 1919, he flew the first over-water mail run in the southern hemisphere across Gulf St Vincent. Sadly he crashed his plane on a later flight and died aged 34.

As we drove southwards, the landscape was a little repetitive, so many dun coloured fields. Many pretty farm houses made with sandstone blocks and red brick corners dotted the horizons, but not much greenery. Maybe people were right about “boring” Yorke Peninsula.

We came in Yorketown, quite a big well populated bustling town. Reputably it is surrounded by pink lakes. We looked and looked but only found white salt lakes, dry and nothing like pink. Since leaving Wallaroo in the morning we had barely travelled 150kms and yet we were close to the south coast. So we decided on Edithburgh for a couple of nights. This was instead of the National Park at the end of the Peninsula, mainly because we had seen lots of great beaches and bush scenery and we didn’t care to camp in the dunes as it was quite hot. 

Edithburgh was perfect for us. A quite historic town on the south east coast almost directly across the Gulf from Adelaide. It once had a bustling port, it’s biggest export being salt from the alleged pink lakes. We took off on the bikes when we first arrived to do a reccy of the town and to my delight I found a sea pool built into the cliff. We spotted a couple of pubs – possibilities for dinner and a great art installation of a horse in the main street.

So straight away, seeing as it was 34C, I headed to the pool. A group of school boys were there so I swam in the small pool until they left. Then pure heaven. Being in the sea, over rocks and corals and seaweeds with a shark net around the edge and I was in my element. Very hard to get out, but Nick doesn’t do cold water, (which it wasn’t), so he sat in the shade for the hours that I swam and chatted to a local. 

After Edithburgh, the Vincent Highway took us up the east coast. The cliffs along this coast are fairly low and the shore seems to have been eroded. Seaweed mountains line the beaches and the smell knocks you over. Tiny cheap shacks huddle together on the edge in these remote fishing towns.

At Stansbury, quite a big town, we got coffee and I saw and photographed some lovely murals. At Port Vincent I bought some local green prawns from the fisherman….and it was Sunday! How good was that! We kept a lookout for more art and were not disappointed. Some artists were very good, others not quite, but each mural brightened up some pretty dull walls.

We decided to stop at Ardrossan for the night. We had no booking but snagged a grassy spot without any noisy neighbours for 3 nights. Ardrossan is quite a substantial port where they still ship out dolomite. There’s a long jetty where people throw nets out to catch the blue swimmer crabs or the squid, like we saw at Edithburgh. 

The crash

There are some lovely bike paths along the foreshore cliffs. We headed off towards the north one morning, I’m quite confident now on my E bike, probably too confident. I crashed as I squeezed between 2 bollards, down onto the gravel knee first. The bike ended on top of me, wedged between the bollards. I instantly knew where the main damage to my body was…the end of the handlebar went straight into my boob. I had my mobile in my pocket, hence a large bruise on my thigh. Two weeks after that day, the scabs are better but the bruises persist. It took a couple of days of aches to realise I had more sore points than I thought, but all’s well now and I’m back on the bike.

There’s a history connected to the stump jump plough and Ardrossan. The National Trust museum in town is excellent with a great variety of memorabilia. A full history of Clarence Smith and his pioneering work to develop the stump jump fills the museum. It’s staggering to think that all the thousands of acres of wheat paddocks were once covered in Mallee scrub that had to be cleared. The physicality of such a feat on such a large scale  is reaping benefits today with massive wheat harvests but at the cost to the environment that could never be measured.

So the verdict about Yorke Peninsula…. definitely was worthwhile, very different from Eyre, glad we went there.

The weather was hotting up. 37C on the day we ventured across to Clare, north of Adelaide, for our next stop. The car did well, we survived. We drove along some small dusty backroads, still seeing acres of wheat stubble, until we reached the hills of the Clare valley. Suddenly, rising up off the flat plains, everything just compacted into small quaint villages, narrow roads lined with grape vines, very charming stone cottages and enormous gum trees. Such an instant contrast to where we’d been. The pool was fabulous at the caravan park, shaded by huge gums, surrounded by lush lawns. 

As you do in Clare, we visited wineries, until we got to realise it was an expensive luxury and the car drawers were filling up fast. At Sussex Squire winery, the lady said they’d had no rain since late January and relied on tank water. The vines weren’t withering and the harvest was coming in, but the aridity seemed heartbreaking, even if the grapes were going to produce a good vintage.

Next we considered a history stop and chose to visit the oldest winery in Clare, Sevenhills, founded in 1851 by a Jesuit priest and named in honour of the seven hills of Rome. The historic information on display was terrific. It reminded me of the book club novel we did called Devotion by Hannah Kent, which featured the pioneering Lutherans.

There was a 3km walking trail around Sevenhills property, which would have been informative if you could manage the hot dusty weather. But we did look through St Aloysius’ Church and the crypt, which had 42 Jesuits entombed. Apparently no other parish church in Australia has a crypt. The shaded lawns under huge plane trees, cypress’ and oaks is a welcome venue for outdoor and theatre events for the Clare community.

The next planned stopover was at Gawler. We wanted access to Adelaide but not to be too close to busy streets. It was a short distance from Clare. We stopped on the way at Martindale Hall, a remnant of the early squattocracy of the region.

Built in 1879, costing 30,000 pounds, it’s opulence must have stunned the average battlers at the time. Edmund Bowman Jnr brought 50 craftsman from England and 10 carpenters from Victoria to build it. In 1965 the Hall with 45 acres was handed over to the SA Government. The photos might give you an idea of it’s magnificence. The huge billiard table was placed in the library before the north wall was completed. It was another worthwhile stop to see how the other half lived, but still they were not immune to hardships like drought and the depression, even in their lavish Georgian fortress.

I’ll end here, even though I am writing this today from Robe. We’ve had some fun since Clare, lots of car pictures coming soon, and Nick’s write-up about them. We begin what feels like the homeward journey as we traverse the south coast of SA and Vic. There’s probably one more blog in me, maybe two!! In 8 weeks we’ll be back in Lennox. Where’s the year gone?

Lotsa love to all

Jen & Nick xxx