After school this morning, we set on a provisioning trip to get food for the coming week from Exeter.
Here’s a snapshot from Google Earth on the area:
That blue dot on the far right is where we are moored. We went for a row in the dinghy up Stony Creek to the boat yard and tied up at a little floating pontoon there.
There is, allegedly, 2.5 meters of water at low tide by the bridge over Stony Ck. there’s a boat already there, but there’s enough room for another. It might be an option to leave ERIK there if we go away for a period if when I get work somewhere.
It’s possible to row a long way up the creek, but getting out without getting muddy is a challenge.
We walked up Stony Brook Rd, a little apprehensive that the signage indicated it was a “No Through Road”. The was an older bloke following us up the road, looking like a local. I doubled back to ask him if we could walk up here to get to Exeter.
“Oh yeah” he replied. “Walk up here a go up the hill. It’s called the Billy Goat track.”
“Thanks”, I replied, probably redundantly explain that we weren’t from around here.
“Yeah”, he said. “Kids went missing on it back in the sixties.”
“What!?” I said.
“They never caught who did it, but they warned us up at school… ‘Don’t go walking down the Billy Goat Track’ they said.” he said, in a quite matter of fact manner.
“Rrrrright… Well, thanks for the directions”, I replied. He didn’t say anymore, but walked with us for a while until his pace left us behind.
Exeter is a charming place. It’s got a great bakery, a pharmacist, two butchers and an IGA supermarket. The butcher next door was a bit expensive, but made his own bacon and sausages. He also cryovacc’s the meat at no extra charge.
We loaded all the groceries, four dozen eggs and therapy onto our trolley and set off down the infamous track. Wary, of course, for the serial killer lurking uncaught for the last fifty years.
…and back to our dingy on the pontoon:
Lachie got himself into a bit of strife when he carried a large rock over onto the walkway down to the pontoon and dropped into the mud, hoping to make a big hole in it. Grant, the bosun at the slip yard yelled out, and we turned to see the rock sitting too close to the rail of the slipway. It was going to block the travel of the cradle. Much to Lachie’s embarrassment and annoyance, he had to go down into the mud and get the rock out if the way, with three adults giving him instructions from up on the walkway. Then he had to be hosed off, then strip off his clothes when we got back to the boat, then have a tub bath.
Not a very impressed nine year old!