Three other vans arrived and parked in a line. Later the end one, which was keeping some wind off the others, turned 45 degrees to face directly into the nor’wester. The car park, and presumably the bar, was chokka full of 4WDs towing motorbike trailers by evening. We were warned when we ordered our fish and chips, that there was a long wait, but being able to phone and then wait in Frieda was no problem. They were just as yummy as we remembered.
Sunday was a much nicer day, and it was market day. We tried some sheep’s cheese but walked on rather than pay $13 for a tiny piece. We bought a coffee and sat at a table near the old guy singing out of tune, did our lap of the town and bought some pork sausages on the way back. Their venison salami was not even close to Dene’s, which we’ve been having in sandwiches for our lunches.
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