The CrossingRest Day In Ceduna
Ceduna Was Amazing
Ceduna felt almost metropolitan after the Nullarbor. With no scheduled kilometres, we could rest, shop, plan and enjoy the kindness waiting at the foreshore caravan park.
There were no scheduled kilometres. That alone made the day feel unusual. After weeks of roadhouses, roadside stops, unpowered rest areas, and the rhythm of packing ourselves back into the campervan, Ceduna felt almost absurdly well equipped. Shops. Water. A foreshore. A caravan park in a central location. Actual facilities. Normal things, but normal things had started to feel extravagant.
Ten years later, I still summed it up the same way: Ceduna was amazing!
The day was not empty, because HAA rest days were never really empty. We rested, planned, shopped, and tried to put the next section into shape. I also had a photo and chat with Vanessa from the local paper, with the HAA message heading for the West Coast Sentinel. No selfie on this occasion as she was a little camera shy, which was fair enough. I was the one doing the strange thing in public.
Ceduna Foreshore Caravan Park became the right place to land. Craig, the South Australian road maintenance worker who had stopped to chat on the Nullarbor and then stopped again the day before, had recommended it. He was right. It was a fabulous spot, central, practical, and exactly what we needed.
Marty at the caravan park made a kind donation to HAA. We missed Jodie, who had headed off to Adelaide, but she had arranged a discount on the site fees. That practical support saved us a few dollars and reminded us that people were noticing what we were doing, then choosing to help in the way they could.
There was also a Kalari truck moment, because by then the trucks had become part of the story. We had seen plenty of them over the previous week. Glenn had stopped in a Kalari company ute the day before to check I was okay. In Ceduna we met another truckie who had seen us out there and told us a bit more about what they did. Apparently Glenn was the boss man.
The trucks were a distinctive colour and shape, and the drivers had been especially good with waves and toots of support. We had started referring to them as our mates. “Here comes another one of our mates” was the sort of thing that made complete sense after several weeks on the Eyre Highway.
The clearest proof that it was a rest day came from the step-count screenshot: 5,373 steps and 4.63 kilometres by late afternoon. On almost any normal day that would have been a reasonable bit of movement. On HAA it was almost comically low.
That was the point. Day 48 did not move the route forward on the map. It made the next movement possible.
The next morning would be back to work. For one day, Ceduna gave something back.
Images From The Day
