By Guest Blogger Jemma Pietrus
Eggs frying, bacon sizzling. Sandy feet, sandy tents, sandy mattresses, sandy showers, sandy hair. So. Much. Sand.
This is Port Elliot Caravan Park. This is summer for me. A thousand memories crammed into one camper-trailer, a few beaches, one seaside town.
It’s where as a toddler I learnt how to ride (and fall off) a boogie board. It’s where I had my first wipeout. Took my first surf lessons. Had my first of many bike collisions. Made my first prank phone calls. Performed unbelievably choreographed 90s dance concerts, to 90s smash hits, to oh so patient parents.
It’s where I experienced my first New Years Eve with alcohol. Where I had my first New Years Day hangover. It’s where I learnt to like a nice wine on a summer evening. And it’s where I was this summer – pitching a tent as a 24-year-old on my parent’s campsite just like I have almost every summer for the past 23 years.
Each year there are new faces wandering the familiar caravan park lanes, but for the most part it’s all the same – just a different swing set. You smile a familiar smile to those you’ve always seen, and smile a welcoming smile to those you haven’t. You make the same small talk to the line of 100 joining the queue at the shower block at the same time as you.
There’s always the child falling of their bike; always a new boogie board being shown proudly at the beach. And, there is always the person (me) who tries to look like a tanned goddess, never learns and gets so burnt they look like a tomato who spends the rest of their time under a beach tent lathering themselves in sunscreen.
Thank goodness this year I learnt.
And, I haven’t even got to the food yet.
Pt Elliot bakery anyone?
Image credit: Port Elliot Bakery
I suppose I’m lucky in some ways. To have this special place that I share with half of Adelaide who migrate down each summer.
It’s a place I look forward to, despite the amount of times I’ve been. It’s the first place I send overseas visitors. At the end of my round-the-world trip it’s the one place I looked forward to returning to.
It represents family. It represents friends. It represents deep conversations on the beach, as a 14-year-old, about how you actually care so much, like so much, about the boy you’ve been going out with who is maybe, possibly, your boyfriend but maybe not. It represents growing up.
And because of this, because of all of this, to me, it’s perfect. It’s the perfect summer holiday and it always will be.
If you haven’t been, make new memories and go there!
Jemma x
If you prefer the vineyards as apposed to the beach, check out our Barossa Road Trip Itinerary.
