Alixe in wonderland

Among rolling wheat fields 50km south east of the smelter town of Port Pirie, 200km north of Adelaide, and 60km from the Clare wineries, lies Georgetown (pop. 200).

We enjoy an ale with my sister Alixe (right) at the Georgetown pub.

Like the other hamlets that dot this part of South Australia, most of Georgetown's buildings are made of stone, including the local pub and a couple of churches.

Many of the homes are well over 100 years old, and of those still standing some are being bought up and renovated by people who love old-style country living.

One of these people is my dear sister Alixe, whom we visited for a few days on our long journey around Australia.

Alixe, who shuns big cities and crowds moved here from Bedourie in Western Queensland, where she lived for a few years, selling paintings of the outback.

Alixe's son Mark and me. He's looking more and more like his Dad Ian.

I won't go into her personal life other than to say she's had more than her fair share of misfortune, including the tragic loss of her eldest son (one of four children) in a motorcycle accident.

However, Alixe has really struck a winner in moving to Georgetown.

At this point I should say she is and always has been extraordinarily talented: an accomplished painter (water colour and oils), seamstress, singer and pianist.

Georgetown pub which has been underpinned to stop it falling down. The architecture is typical of the area.



Inventive and tireless

But none of us had the slightest idea that she could also be an inventive and tireless manual laborer.

In Alixe's back yard. The van fitted easily.

Eight years ago Alixe identified an old 4-bedroom stone house on an acre in Georgetown and bought it for $12,000. It had cracks in the walls caused by subsoil movement, had been severely damaged by squatters, the surrounding yard was overgrown and full of junk, and it was marked for demolition. But she loved the architecture and recognised the home's potential.

Alixe with her pond bridge made from an old sheep dip ramp.

Singlehandedly and with meagre resources, she has transformed the house into a home: installed a second bathroom, ripped out old carpet, repaired floorboards, rebuilt masonry and repaired corrugated iron roofing, renovated plumbing and shifted a huge amount of junk and rocks. She also attached an art studio, built a large vegetable garden and a goldfish pond fenced with large rocks.

Even thinking about all that work gives me a pain in the lower back! Petite but physically robust and mentally resilient, Alixe would put most men to shame with her capacity for hard work.

This stone house purchased in nearby Gladstone for $44,000 a couple of years ago is being renovated. Very typical of those in the region.

She now lives happily in a wonderland of her own creation with her son Mark, his partner Rusty and three boisterous dogs, and is looking forward to doing more painting. In the meantime, Mark and Rusty have begun an Arts Degree online.

Here only the screech of cockatoos or bleating of sheep interrupts the peace. And the clear night sky displays a mesmerising Milky Way. A good choice I'd say.

Old copper mine in Burra.

During our visit, Alixe showed us around the district, including the towns of Gladstone, Jamestown, Crystal Brook (another top place for pies!) and the old copper mining town of Burra.

She also kindly re-upholstered our folding chairs with new material.

Underground riverbank mining cottages in Burra typical of those occupied by Cornish and Welsh miners in the 1800s and early 1900s.

I was glad to help out with a bit of plumbing and the removal of a gum tree with roots threatening the foundations of a wall. Mark and I hacked around the roots and the Pajero with cable attached to the stump did the rest.

Whooping worries

Readers may recall that in our last blog I mentioned Carol's persistent cough.

Medical advice in Esperance and later in Ceduna pointed to asthma. However, the cough was bad enough for us to sign off and hit the sack before midnight on New Year's Eve. A game of golf there in the heat probably didn't help.

At Ceduna Carol insisted on being tested for whooping cough as she had been in contact with our grand daughter Lucinda who had been treated for the condition in Sydney in December.

As we motored into Streaky Bay we received a phone call from the Aboriginal Health Sevice in Ceduna to say the test was positive. What to do?

Seaside a few kilometres north of Streaky Bay.

We decided to rest in Streaky Bay but the cough was just as bad so after five nights there we made for Port Lincoln (diverting to Coffin Bay to pick up some of the famed oysters) where she again saw a doctor.

The doctor said the cough just had to run its course as it was too late for antibiotics. In China they called it the 100-day cough, he said.

I should add that I nearly died of whooping cough at age four in the transit camp in Deolali. That must have given me immunity.

We parked at a great spot on a terraced hill overlooking the harbour at Port Lincoln, but despite the sea breeze, the days were warming up uncomfortably.

Coffin Bay -- famous for large, plump oysters.

One morning we decided on a round of golf but Carol began wilting in the heat so we called it a day after nine holes. On the course the temperature must have been close to 40 degrees.

Our next stop was the steel making town of Whyalla, where once again we set up beachside.

Port Lincoln from the Lookout.

It didn't help much as the temperature climbed to 48 degrees under our awning. Our air conditioner struggled to keep the van cool and even the fridge was doing it tough.

Thankfully, when we arrived at Alixe's place, a cool change came through.

Camped at Whyalla. It was 48 degrees under the awning.

After five nights with Alixe we made for Adelaide, stopping at the Seven Hills winery established by the Jesuits in the 1800s, to buy some of the famous fortified wine. I can attest that the hand of God was definitely at work with the cream sherry.

Here in Adelaide we are lying low as the Tour Down Under cycling event featuring Lance Armstrong gets under way amid enormous traffic congestion.

Whyalla steelworks. Note the 3.7 inch heavy anti-aircraft gun in the foreground. A battery of four such guns was installed during WWII.

We did, however, manage to call in on my old mate and fellow journalist Kevin Boyle who is recovering in a lodge from recent surgery.

Kevin, whose brother Colin married my sister Mary (now deceased), has also moved to Georgetown from Alice Springs. He's renovating a stone house (circa 1875) a couple of blocks from Alixe's, and using it as a base to pursue his passion for off-road four wheel driving and camping.

More news soon.