The Hidden Treasure

It was a remarkable Thursday afternoon; I skipped my weekly routine of visiting the Elizabeth Shopping Centre because of the scheduled activity in the poultry farm by nightfall.

For a change, I opted not to stay inside my caravan and wait until after sunset so I took the farm ute and drove off to Port Wakefield to enjoy the rest of the afternoon outdoor.

I chose a spot along the Wakefield River; it’s a picnic point towards the north-western side of the town, around 250 meters from the roadhouse strip. I had driven by this area many times before but didn’t really dare to stop and stay like what I did last Thursday.

Thursday, February 25, 2010

What a peaceful place! There’s nobody here except me and this middle-aged moustached man in the other side of the riverbank who’s tidying his SUV under the shade of the pines. Luckily, there are flocks of seagulls resting on the sand and some are perching on the wooden fences whose casual squawks perfectly blend with the clatter of the lush pine and palm leaves blown by the mild, late afternoon wind.

Port Wakefield is one of Australia's most important sites for migratory birds! -About Australia

It’s late summer but the breeze is relatively cool, as if reminding me of the coming of the colourful autumn in the next four days.

The river has been flowing smoothly yet its surface distinctively ripples every time the south-easterly wind sets a powerful puff. From the wooden bench where I’m sitting right now, the water appears to be boasting of its bluish dye, when in fact it is only a generous reflection of the mostly clear sky.

The wooden bench.

A streak of cirrus cloud has been selfishly depriving the river of its faintest image, forcing me to gaze up above thus allowing my eyes to capture the rapidly soaring jet across the big dome as it leaves a thin strip of visible gas that gently dissipates in the air.

The Wakefield River.

Two cars have passed by the road nearby—one with a learner-driver’s plate and the other with four panting dogs inside but the drivers of both vehicles never decided to hit the brake and get off the vehicle to experience the serenity of this place... they just wound their windscreen down, had a glimpse, and off they’re gone! I'm sure they were locals but, like those weekend tourists who just drive through the highway and only stop at the fuel station if they need to fill both their tank and stomach full, they were strangers in the neighbourhood! Never did they know that this frequently ignored site has its own unconcealed beauty waiting to be discovered!

Sunset at the Wakefield River...

The sun is now hiding behind the sparsely painted clouds as its lowest brim touches the tip of the Yorke Peninsula hills in the west. Simultaneously, the previously azure sky is gradually transforming into a grey canvas with an abstract artwork of gold and deep orange colours! The vegetations and the birds are now silhouetting against the remaining glow of the day...

Bird-watching...

This magnificent scenery would have been lovelier if the clouds are thicker and if a beautiful maiden will come and cross the wooden bridge reclining in the distance. How I wish... but just before my vulnerable mind totally succumb to these early evening illusions I was averted by the mouth-watering aroma of a sizzling steak diffusing from the neighbouring hotel.

Built 1856 as Rising Sun Inn, renamed as The Rising Sun Hotel in 1859.

The moustached man had packed-up and left, probably to have his evening tea and a mug of ice-cold West End Draught in the adjacent tavern.

T-bone steak with mushroom-black pepper gravy and mashed potato
of the Rising Sun Hotel.

Finally, the great ball of fire is now invisible across the western horizon and the once golden firmament has turned greyish and purplish-red... it’s now time for me to leave and go back to the poultry farm to shut the blinds off... and I guess it’s now time to end this lengthy log for the day.

The roadhouse strip by night; Port Wakefield, South Australia.

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