Day 5 – Just the Two of Us

 Today we became loners. In the best way possible.

Over the previous couple of days, one by one, our camping companions had fallen victim to the cruel realities of adulthood. Work commitments, responsibilities, car issues back home and all those other inconvenient things that seem to interrupt perfectly good holidays had gradually reduced our little campsite village.

And now it was just Tracy and me.

For the first time this trip, we were getting a glimpse of what retired travelling might actually look like.

More importantly, Tracy was about to discover whether she could survive an entire day with just me for company, without the safety net of other people to distract me from whatever random thought happened to enter my head.

The day started in familiar fashion with a couple of coffees and a leisurely discussion about the future. We talked about travel, caravanning, retirement and whether spending months on the road was something we could genuinely see ourselves doing one day.

The answer was a fairly quick "yes". The only detail we still need to figure out is how to pay for it.

Eventually our conversation turned to the day's activities.

One of us suggested a walk. The other immediately thought that sounded like a terrible idea.

I'll leave you to work out which one was which.

As every experienced husband knows, however, there are occasions where only one response is acceptable.

"Yes Dear."

So before long we found ourselves in Wilmington preparing to tackle the walk up Mt Maria. The first part of the track was actually rather pleasant. A gentle stroll through trees bordering the local golf course where the hazards consisted of sheep wandering around the fairways rather than golf balls screaming past your head at high speed.

I started thinking this wasn't so bad. That was my first mistake.

What initially appeared to be a relaxing walk soon revealed itself to be a mountain climb disguised as a walking trail. The path cleverly wound its way up the hillside through a series of criss-crossing tracks that somehow kept climbing despite appearing reasonably flat from a distance. It's the walking equivalent of someone saying, "This won't hurt a bit."

The scenery made the effort worthwhile though. Open scrubland gave way to shady pockets of bushland, while the occasional kangaroo appeared from nowhere before quickly deciding that whatever noisy creature was approaching wasn't worth hanging around for.

To be fair, if I heard someone huffing and puffing as loudly as I was, I'd probably leave too.

Throughout the walk, I spent my time doing what I apparently do best. Talking. About anything. Everything. Nothing. A random thought would enter my head and immediately become a conversation topic.

Meanwhile, Tracy seemed to be enjoying the scenery while perfecting the fine art of selective hearing.

Apparently when you're walking through beautiful countryside with your spouse, you're not actually required to verbalise every single thought that enters your brain. Who knew?

Eventually we reached the top and joined the proud ranks of older travellers sitting on a bench admiring the view and pretending we weren't really there just to have a rest. The panorama stretching across the countryside was magnificent.

After soaking it all in for a while, it was time to begin the descent. Thankfully our knees cooperated. There was even a brief period where I wasn't saying anything.

What Tracy didn't know was that I was quietly typing notes into my phone about things I could bring up later. Preparation is everything.

Back at camp, the reality of tomorrow's departure started to settle in. It's always a slightly odd feeling on the last full day. Part of you wishes the trip could continue indefinitely, while another part knows you've probably timed it perfectly. The weather forecast suggests rain and cloud are on the way, so perhaps heading home tomorrow is the universe's way of telling us not to push our luck.

As evening arrived, the fire was lit for one final night. Dinner was cooked over the coals, smoke continued its seemingly personal mission of following us no matter where we sat, and the camp settled into a peaceful quietness.

Looking back, these last five days have been everything a camping trip should be - Great weather, amazing scenery, fun 4WD adventures, far too much food, a few drinks & plenty of laughs.

Tomorrow it's time to pack up and head back to reality.

But not before we start planning the next adventure. After all, every good camping trip needs a sequel.

Day 4 – Beer, Mud and Sheep That Couldn't Care Less

Sunday arrived much the same as every other day so far this trip.

I was awake ridiculously early.

Again.

At this point I'm beginning to suspect my internal body clock has been permanently set to "retired farmer".

So whilst the rest of camp was enjoying the luxury of sleep, I sat outside with a couple of coffees watching the local wildlife start their day. This morning's entertainment featured birds, kangaroos and a few sheep that looked about as motivated as I felt before coffee number two.

One thing was certain though.

There would be absolutely no walking today.

My legs had lodged several formal complaints overnight following yesterday's unexpectedly athletic efforts and I had every intention of respecting their wishes.

Today's agenda was much more sensible - 4WDing.

Before that, however, we had an important detour planned to Jacka Brothers Brewery in Melrose.

Set within a beautifully restored old flour mill, this place has quickly become one of those attractions that should be mandatory for anyone passing through town. Whether you enjoy a beer, a wine, a pizza or simply admiring old buildings that have been given a second life, it's well worth a visit.

After a leisurely lunch involving several excellent pizzas and a couple of sneaky refreshments, we pointed the vehicles towards the Bridle Track.

Now I've driven this track before, but it never gets old.

The route winds its way through private farmland, over rolling hills and through enough muddy puddles to ensure any freshly cleaned vehicle immediately regrets its life choices.

As we climbed higher, the reward became obvious. Once again, the views were absolutely spectacular.

To one side sat Port Pirie, Port Broughton and Port Augusta stretching out across the plains. Behind us rose the magnificent Flinders Ranges, creating a backdrop that looked almost too perfect to be real.

The weather certainly wasn't hurting the experience either.

For four days straight we had somehow managed to order perfect winter conditions. Endless blue skies, brilliant sunshine, lush green hills and virtually no wind.

It's the sort of weather that makes you immediately forget every cold, wet and miserable camping trip you've ever endured.

Of course, no scenic stop was complete without Tully demanding her own moment in front of the camera.

At several lookouts she happily posed amongst the greenery as though she personally owned the mountain.

If you're wondering what a Cavoodle influencer looks like, check out IG @Tully_thecavoodle and you'll understand. Fair to say she's becoming far more photogenic than the rest of us.

After spending far too much time admiring the scenery, taking photos and generally pretending we were explorers, we cracked open a celebratory drink at the top and enjoyed the view.

Because if you're going to stand on top of a mountain and admire South Australia, you may as well do it properly.

Eventually it was time to head back down.

Oddly enough, the track became rougher as we descended.

There was more mud. More ruts. More opportunities for the cars to get sideways than perhaps Tracy considered entirely necessary.

In other words, it became even more fun.

By the time we reached the bottom, every vehicle was wearing several kilograms of premium South Australian mud and looked considerably happier for it.

The drive back soon turned into an unofficial race against both The Ghan and a passing freight train.

I'm pleased to report we eventually won. Mainly because the train went somewhere else.

Back at camp, the familiar routine resumed. A fire was started. Drinks appeared. Chairs were setup..

Right on time, we wandered up the hill to watch another spectacular sunset where Kayla decided she would attempt to make friends with the local sheep with what she thought would be protection of Tully under her arm (Yeah Nah...). This yielded exactly the same result Tully achieved earlier in the trip - Nothing.

The thing about sheep is that they're sheep. Their interests are largely limited to grass, more grass, and occasionally wondering where the next grass might be located.Human interaction ranks un-surprisingly low on their priority list.

As darkness settled across the ranges, we headed back to camp, stoked the fire and started preparing yet another meal over hot coals.

The conversation flowed as easily as the drinks. Stories from the day's adventures became increasingly entertaining with every retelling, laughter echoed around the camp and everyone simply enjoyed being exactly where they were.

It's easy to get caught up in the destinations, the scenery and the activities, but some of the best parts of trips like these are the simple moments spent with good friends around a fire.

The weather has been incredible.

The scenery has been breathtaking.

The 4WD adventures have been outstanding.

But the memories we'll probably talk about longest are the laughs we've shared with a great group of people.

Not a bad way to spend four days in the Flinders.

Not sure I could ever get tired of this, but my bank unfortunately is telling me I have to .... for now. Who knows what will happen in the near future however.

Day 3 - My watch thinks it's been stolen

 

For the third morning in a row, I found myself awake before anything or anyone else in the campground.

The birds weren't awake.

The sheep weren't awake.

I'm not entirely convinced the sun was awake.

Yet there I was, sitting outside with a coffee wondering if sleeping past 7am is now a privilege reserved exclusively for younger people whose joints don't sound like a bowl of Rice Bubbles every time they stand up.

With Tully staring at me as though I'd personally organised the sunrise for her entertainment, I decided we'd go for a quick morning walk.

Now when normal people say "quick walk", they generally mean a gentle stroll around camp.

Apparently my definition is different.

One moment we were happily wandering along a track. The next thing I knew we were 3.2 kilometres from camp.

Which meant we were also 3.2 kilometres from getting back.

At that point I considered calling Tracy to come and collect us, but I wasn't sure my pride could survive the conversation.

So I soldiered on.

By the time I returned to camp, I'd completed a respectable 6.4km before breakfast.

For context, I work from home, spend most of my day within a ten metre radius of my desk, and the last exercise I can confidently remember doing was probably reaching for the TV remote.

This was not part of the plan.

I staggered back into camp just as everyone else was emerging from their vans, made coffee number two and collapsed into a chair.

It was at precisely that moment I remembered we were doing the Gorge walk.

Not the little walk.

Not the "there and back in half an hour" walk.

The proper gorge walk.

The one measured in hours rather than minutes.

As I sat there feeling every one of my approximately 147 leg muscles, I briefly considered my options.

Fake an injury?

Pretend I'd developed altitude sickness?

Claim I'd been traumatised by sheep during my morning expedition?

Unfortunately none seemed particularly convincing, so off we went.

The walk itself was spectacular.

Massive cliffs, ancient creek beds, towering gums and scenery that once again proved photos are little more than colourful lies when compared to seeing something in person.

My legs, however, had lodged a formal complaint.

Every step was accompanied by a reminder that the earlier walk had been a monumentally stupid decision.

Still, the kilometres rolled by surprisingly quickly as we chatted our way through the gorge.

Well, I chatted. Others occasionally got to chat.

Over the course of several hours I managed to discuss camping, caravanning, weather, food, fishing, 4WDs, politics, retirement plans, coffee and probably several topics that hadn't even been invented yet.

Anyone walking near me either willingly joined the conversation or simply couldn't escape.

Somewhere during the day we moved in and out of mobile coverage several times and I became convinced my Apple Watch had finally had enough.

After recording more than 14 kilometres of walking, it probably assumed it had been stolen.

I'd like to imagine a message was automatically sent somewhere:

"Alert. Regular owner Barry Weyland has been replaced. Current wearer appears active and motivated. Investigation recommended."

There is simply no historical data supporting that level of exercise.

Eventually we limped, shuffled and groaned our way back into camp where we immediately commenced the important process of replacing every calorie we'd just burned.

A few drinks appeared.

Then a cheese platter.

Then more drinks.

Science would probably argue this defeated the purpose of the walk entirely, but fortunately science wasn't invited.

As has become tradition on this trip, dinner was cooked directly over fire. Every meal so far has involved some combination of grill, hotplate, camp oven, flames, smoke and occasional panic.

Tonight also happened to be chocolate pudding night.

Or at least that was the intention.

Somewhere between preparing ingredients, consuming pre-dinner beverages and negotiating campfire cooking temperatures, things may have drifted slightly off course.

What emerged from the camp oven wasn't really pudding.

It wasn't entirely cake either.

It occupied a mysterious category somewhere between the two.

Now I'm certainly not pointing fingers at the person responsible for making the mixture. Nor am I suggesting the cook may have got the temperature slightly enthusiastic.

That would be unfair.

Let's simply say there were multiple contributing factors and move on.

The important thing is that the ice cream performed flawlessly all evening.

Sometimes one member of the team needs to carry the rest.

Eventually bedtime arrived and I collapsed into bed.

My legs were now communicating exclusively through pain.

They made it very clear that no further walking should occur tomorrow.

For once, I think I'm prepared to listen.

After all, 14 kilometres in one day is enough exercise for at least the next six to eight months.

Day 2 Spear Creek - Let the fun begin

One of the main reasons I wanted to come back to Spear Creek this year arrived bright and early on Friday morning.

4WD day.

Well, eventually anyway.

First, there was the small matter of me waking up ridiculously early for absolutely no good reason. Somewhere along the journey from young bloke to ageing camper, my body decided that sleeping past 7am was no longer an option. Apparently aching knees, a sore back and random noises coming from various joints are now my built-in alarm clock.

While the rest of camp remained completely unconscious, I sat outside with my first coffee of the morning.

Then my second.

Because let's be honest, one coffee simply isn't enough to make me pleasant before sunrise.

With the caffeine levels finally reaching acceptable operating levels, I grabbed Tully and headed up a nearby hill. The plan was simple — watch the sunrise, stretch the legs, and introduce Tully to some of the local residents.

The sheep seemed relatively unimpressed by the introduction.

Tully, however, was convinced she had discovered an entire paddock of new friends.

 

As the sun crept over the surrounding ranges, it lit up the mountains we would soon be exploring. The morning air was crisp, the skies were brilliantly clear, and for a few minutes everything was perfectly peaceful.

 

Then everyone else woke up and started making noise.

Before long we were loading into the vehicles and heading off to tackle the property's two 4WD tracks.

The first option is the Southern Scenic Track, which is described as the easier route.

The second is the Northern Track, which helpfully includes sections where a spotter is recommended.

As someone who enjoys driving rough tracks, these descriptions translated loosely to:

Track 1: Fun.

Track 2: More Fun.

What neither description mentioned was the impact these tracks were going to have on the passenger sitting behind me.

Let's just say that Tracy wasn't entirely convinced that some of the inclines, descents and off-camber sections were designed by sane individuals.

Several moments throughout the day were accompanied by the traditional sounds of white knuckles gripping door handles and the occasional high-pitched reminder that gravity is not always your friend.

Oddly enough, I found the entire experience very relaxing.

Whenever we reached another ridgeline or lookout, all concerns about steep climbs and rocky tracks disappeared instantly.

The views were simply ridiculous.

 

 

From our vantage points we could see across to Port Broughton, Port Augusta and what felt like half of South Australia beyond. Behind us sat the Southern Flinders Ranges and Mount Remarkable National Park, standing proudly under some of the clearest winter skies imaginable.

The weather couldn't have been more perfect if someone had ordered it specifically for us. Bright blue skies, sunshine, absolutely no wind and temperatures that made being outdoors a genuine pleasure.

It's one of those places where every lookout convinces you that you've just seen the best view of the day.

Then you drive another couple of kilometres and discover an even better one.

Photos were taken in abundance, but as usual they'll only do a spectacular job of showing about 10% of what it actually looked like.

 

By the time we rolled back into camp, the vehicles were dustier, Tracy's nerves were back to normal levels, and I was already convinced that coming back to Spear Creek had been a very good decision.

Now all that remained was to resume the other important camping activities.

Namely sitting around with friends, discussing the day's adventures, and making sure the wine consumption didn't become dangerously high (That’s what the Bourbon and Gin is for).

Spear Creek July 2026

 Thursday 16 July 2026 – Here We Go Again

After what seemed like an eternity of counting down the days, Thursday finally arrived and it was time to hook up the van and head north once again to Spear Creek in the Lower Flinders Ranges. For those playing along at home, it's a touch over four hours from Adelaide, or closer to five if you're towing a caravan and have naturally adopted the mandatory Grey Nomad speed limit.

We rolled out of home around 8:30am and pointed ourselves north. The drive was pleasantly uneventful, which is exactly how I like it when towing several tonnes of caravan, food, clothing and approximately 87% of the possessions we own "just in case".

We visited Spear Creek at exactly the same time last year and, unlike last year's flirtation with rain and muddy shoes, this year greeted us with absolutely perfect winter weather. Blue skies, sunshine and around 19 degrees.

Unfortunately, I had packed for winter.

This meant I spent most of the afternoon looking longingly at people wearing shorts while I wandered around dressed as though I was preparing for an expedition to Antarctica.

Upon arrival, we were shown to our campsite, which we were sharing with friends in their two vans, along with Tyler and his partner who had chosen the rooftop tent option. At first glance the spot looked fantastic.

At second glance, Tracy realised it wasn't the same spot we had last year.

Now, I'm not saying there was a hissy fit.

But if there was a scale between "slightly disappointed" and "formal complaint to management", we may have landed somewhere comfortably in the middle.

As is often the case in life, expectation and reality sometimes need a little time to become friends. Thankfully, experience has taught me that this process can be significantly accelerated with the addition of a few glasses of wine.

Once the initial site-location crisis had passed, it was time for the important business of setting up camp. A process which generally involves me carrying heavy things around, forgetting where I've put things, moving them three times, and eventually deciding the original location was probably fine after all.

Before long our friends started rolling in and setting up around us. The campground quickly transformed from a quiet patch of dirt into a small village of caravans, camp chairs and people standing around offering advice nobody asked for.

                   

With everyone finally settled in, the first official Wine O'Clock of the trip was declared.

The sun slowly dipped behind the ranges, conversations got louder, stories got better with every retelling, and another camping trip was officially underway.

There's something special about that first night away. No work, no alarms, no schedules and absolutely no plans beyond deciding who was responsible for opening the next bottle.

Day one was done.

The caravans were level, the drinks were flowing, Tracy had mostly forgiven the campsite for not being last year's campsite, and I was once again exactly where I wanted to be.

My happy place. 🍷🏕️😁

Why can't I drive?

Another beautiful winter's morning greeted me as I got up at the crack of dawn and sipped my coffee whilst secretly getting annoyed that everyone else wants to sleep in when camping.

We were now on our own and I had been hanging out wanting to get into a bit of 4WD'ing so I went and booked for access to the local parks tracks.

Once again, when you have an L Plater that has already got the taste for offroad adventures, I dont really get a choice of whether I want to drive. However, once again, it is actually really satisfying seeing a youngster with a total of 30 hours of driving experience so far, learning how to navigate some tricky dirt sections, creek bed crossings, slippery tracks and downhill descents with the local widlife watching from nearby.

After a couple of hours of driving around and testing out the capabilities of my car and nerves, we headed off to Alligator Gorge which is another well known attraction with an amazing walk through the wild cliff faces and trickling water .

This walk also tested our nerves - only this time it was physical nerves that included our knees, ankles, backs and everything else that commonly hurts nowadays.

However, it was just stunning - vivid red cliff faces with some scattered burnt trees from a recent bushfire, but also a huge amount of striking gum trees that seem to grow out of sheer rock faces and an apparent lack of soil.

Sadly, our time at this gem of a location is now coming to an end

Its a true mix of bush camping yet still has enough creature comforts to make it more pleasant in the not so good weather (which admittedly we only had 18 hours of with most of that being overnight)

There was just one more stinky fire and cooking experience to tend to - this time barbecued meat direct over the coals and flames of the fire. (One of my favourites as the meat absorbs some amazing flavours from the smoke)

Sadly, tomorrow is pack up day and time to head home.

I have to say, this has been one of my favourite short stays in a long time. We will definitely be back

Pichi Richi and 4WD

Waking up on Tuesday morning to the continuing sound of light rain is good for the land, not so good for those in swags. However it turned out only 1 discovered their swag is not waterproof, with everyone else still snoring away whilst I made my first coffee for the morning.

We had predicted this wet weather, so we set off to nearby Quorn where the famous coal powered steam  tourist train Pichi Richi Railway was scheduled to run for its short 2 hour trip through the Flinders Ranges. We have all known about this for ever, but none of us had been on it before. Whilst it could be described as "just another train", it was an amazing experience to learn about the history of the train and to see some amazing scenery roll by

The end of the "downhill" leg saw us stopping at the historic town and station Woolshed Flat which was run by voulunteers specifically to serve passengers a nice array of coffee, scones with jam and cream - not that anyone in our group complained about the scones being cold, but fair to say the preference would have been for them to be warm.

We then had the return leg back to Quorn with the other side of the ranges to view, then decided what better way to top it off than visit the local Gin Distillery for a quick drink or two. This is a fairly new establishment and doesnt yet serve any food or platters, however we had learnt already that we could actually take our own stuff in, and so we did!

Whilst the rain had almost cleared up by now, it was time to head back to camp, get the fire going and start prepping the Camp Oven for yet anither spectacular WheresBarryNow dinner. Tonight was a pulled chicken with cream of chicken, carrots, onion, too much garlic and a spattering of other deliciousness. Yum.

The rain finally stopped and we enjoyed the rest of the night with small talk around the fire, a few drinks and more smoke penetrating our already stinky clothes.

As is the usual case (for me anyway) I was well and truly ready for bed by 9pm - probably due to too much to eat and too much to drink, but hey - we are camping.

Wednesday weather was beautiful. Blue skys, crisp morning weather and perfect environment for waking up early and sipping hot coffee whilst watching the local wildlife wake up.

Today we decided to go for a drive up through the local 34km Bridle Track that crosses the Ranges from Melrose to Port Germein (or close enough). Turns out that with a young 16 year old L Plater in the car, I no longer get to enjoy the fun of driving off road 😒

However, this is classed as a novice track and it turned out to be a fun drive where I actually got to enjoy the scenery a whole lot more than I normally do when driving - and she did an awesome job even with intentionally driving through every mud puddle trying to get bogged. Some of the views over the mountains and down through the valleys to the ocean were simply spectacular - no photos can show just how amazing this is.

The car was well and truly filthy now with about 80 kg of mud caked underneath the wheel arches and many other places I couldnt yet see, but it had been a great day. Our little L Plater was beaming from ear to ear with having experienced being off road for the first time, and fair to say it was time to get back and start up the smokey fire once again with tonights gormet delicacy being Lamb Shanks on a bed of mashed potato (laced with cheese, butter and more cheese of course) with some damper wrapped in foil hopefully being ready at the same time.

Turns out that without adding any yeast to the bread flour, we (ok - when I say we I obviously mean my darling wife) may have just tried cooking some of the rocks surrounding the fire -  it was about the same consistency and not anywhere as near as nice as it looked.

Some of the group left camp today to go home early, with the last of them leaving tomorrow, meaning we are on our own for the day - which is absolutely fine by me.... I am intending on tackling the parks own 4WD tracks  of which they have two of. Looking forward to that

So far - the experience of exploring Spear Creek Holiday park and its surrounds has been amazing and is highly recommended for those that like to get out and about

Arrival Day and Day 2

 July school holidays had arrived and it was finally time to get the caravan out and disappear for a few days.

This trip was a little different in that there would be no dogs and only Kayla coming with us, plus some of the usual camping buddies that we would meet at our target destination of Spear Creek - about 45 minutes NE of Pt Augusta, which is about 4 hours North from home.

I am about to be in my happy place once again

I have  read all these posts from people saying how easy it easy to go away with a caravan - just pack the food in and go.... Well after a week of me packing everything I could possibly think of, and probably being overloaded, we set off around 9:30am Sunday morning.

The trip was non eventful apart from the 70Kmh headwinds that caused me to refuel and restricted 

my already Grey Nomad maximum speed down another 10 clicks to around 85Kmh, and thankfully our camp was about 2k further inland from where the wind apparently suddenly stopped according to the location of the giant wind turbines dotting the open paddocks on the way in.

The camp location was actually amazingly set out - we were away from the general caravan sites in our own secluded location with no defined site as such, where we had our two vans, multiple firepits, and a swinging tyre for us to try and hurt ourselves on when we had drank too much. Yet we still had power, water and a communal flushing toilet hidden behind a great big gum tree in the middle of the creek bed.

Sunset was pretty spectacular, but as always, photos don't really show just how nice it was. We climbed up a nearby hill and watched the darkness creep in, before sliding our way back down to camp to sit around the fire and talk crap, have some laughs and begin the process of getting our clothes reeking of smoke for the rest of the week

Monday arrived and the weather started off with a touch of wintter sun intermingled with a cool breeze and some cloudy patches as one would expect in the middle of July.

We decided to go for a walk into the gorge at the back of the property, whoch turned into a bit of a marathon for the kids and a bit of a hike for some of us ageing adults with failing body parts. The scenery was amazing (from what we could see when lifting our eyes up from our stumbling feet) and was a great way to pass ome time before heading back to camp for a bit of Wine O'Clock time. The weather forecast was predicting a bit of a drizzle overnight which was literally going to dampen the mood a bit, but we stuck it out as long as we could, even managing to get a self saucing chocolate pudding done in the camp oven.

After stuffing ourselves full and braving the drizzle for as long as we could, it was time for bed. Its a bit of a mix between listening to the serenity of the patter of rain drops on the van roof and lying there asking myself WTF is getting flooded out .....

But at least we had some creature comforts of a heater and a heated blanket in bed (unlike the tween-agers that were braving it out in the swags in the rain 🤣🤣)

The rain is suppopsed to stop around 9:30 in the moring, so it may work out out well.